GermanyXReader: The Grey Scale (Chapter 1)

          You remembered very little from before the war; your mother’s cooking, the sound of your father’s laugh, the old, red swing set which stood in the park. You had just been a small child back then, only at the age of 10.  A home by the sea, its beauty, glimmering in the light like a thousand diamonds; at least that was one thing that didn't change. You had also had an older sister. She was hotheaded that one, but so kind. You were always attached to her leg, begging to go on adventures. Yet she would always laugh, tossing her head back to let the bells ring. But that was before the war. Now all you owned were broken memories.

          You turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body as you went. Ludwig, who sat rigidly on the couch, looked up, his cold eyes scanning you for a moment before returning to his reading. Quietly you went into your chamber to get dressed.

          A few minutes later, you came back out to find your partner still in the same uncomfortable position you had found him earlier.

          “Shower’s free.” You said. He curtly nodded, getting up. Striding over, he passed you, nearly giving you a shoulder as his hand grabbed for the doorknob. You were about to go sit down when you heard a gruff voice.

          “(y/n), are you feeling alright?” You looked back to the man, his back facing you as his hand paused on the door. Sighing, a long moment passed before a reply came.

          “I’ll be fine.”

          “Gut.” He quickly shut the door with a loud slam. You sat down, flickering your wrist at the TV. A comedy came on. You knew, he wasn't really worried. He only cared that you were in “tip-top” shape to fight. Because slaughtering enemy soldiers took importance over the emotional health of comrades. You watched as the two brothers on TV laughed as the host made silly jokes. Maybe if the incident hadn't happened, maybe if he were still alive, Ludwig would be different. The army would lose its best fighter in place of a man’s happiness.

          “Let’s go.” You jolted. Ludwig must have finished his shower and gotten dressed while you were lost in thought. You got up and dusted off your skirt. The man walked across the small flat, the silver buttons on his uniform flashing like stars in the night sky. He extended his arm and your arm automatically linked with it.

          “You look very nice.”

          “As do you, my dear.”

          The party was crowded with important people; military leaders, famous politicians, and beautiful aristocrats.  You sat in the corner of the large, elegant ballroom; you weren't one for parties. As for Ludwig, you saw glimpses of him, charming his way into people’s heart.

          The quartet strung their pieces, the music carrying across gold encrusted ceilings. You spun the alcohol in your glass, watching as small bubbles formed in the drink. Then you poured it all into the tree next to you.

          “What? Not a fan of aged bourbon?” You looked up to find a pleasant surprise; an old acquaintance. He sported a familiar cocky grin.

          “Alfred Jones. I should have known. Back from the front already?”  He gave a small, nervous chuckle and ran his hand through locks of sandy hair. There was a flash of disgust in his eyes, as if you had said something offensive.

          “Well, y’see…it wasn't exactly what you would call a traditional discharge. You know how it is (y/n), ‘damaged goods’ are no use to them.”  He sat down next to you, his uniform wrinkled like you had always remembered it. He pulled up his pant leg up, revealing a large network of electrical wires sewn together ending at the foot. “Say they don’t want me to malfunction during battle.”

          Your face slew with surprise, gaping at the part. You could only work out, “Oh…I’m so sorry Alfred.”

          “Don’t be.  It’s about time I got to hanging up my boots anyway. Plus, now I get to eat real, unadulterated food. Can you imagine that?” You let out a loud laugh as the man’s eyes glinted at the thought of ‘real world’ food. Sure, the junk they gave out was healthy. But

          The man grinned, his signature smile spreading across his face. You had always compared it to a cat’s grin; full of mischief and adventure. “Y’know, there’s actually a good reason I came over here.”

          “Well, I was jus’ wondering if the lovely Miss (y/n) would honor me with a dance. That is, of course, if good ol’ sour puss is okay with me, a lowly soldier, taking his lady friend out for a spin.” He got up and bowed, clicking his heels together and kissing your hand gently, like a dove’s feather. You giggled and got up as well, smacking him playfully on the chest. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

          You and Alfred danced, not too fast, but just quick enough to impress. He spun you around the room, showing you off like a prize to his gawking friends. Something that Ludwig would never do; showed immaturity, was his reason. He whispered jokes of the old days into your ear, making you laugh loudly; peopled stared, but you didn't mind. If you were drunk, Ludwig could punish you later, but right now you were having fun.

          The music finally ended, and you and Alfred broke apart. He was partially laughing, for you had stolen his hat and had it tipped over on your head, one long finger wagging in front of his face. Well, that was, until you heard a sharp voice behind you.

          “I would like to introduce my partner to you. This is (y/n), the reason I can –sometimes- get up in the morning.” No, it isn't. There

          “Is that you Alfred?”  Ludwig smiled as if he was addressing an old friend, a cool, calm, content feeling radiating off his aura; as if he were charming snakes. “I couldn't be sure; usually you’re either chasing skirts or getting drunk when I’m around! It’s nice to see your sober

          “Well, Ludwig, I think it’s been too long. I haven’t done that sort of stuff since I was a kid.”

          You saw Ludwig smirk; a large, proud grin, animosity flashing in his bright eyes. “Ja, that’s right!  Last time I saw you, you could still walk ten feet without your legs malfunctioning! Am I right?  Too bad we all can’t be heroes.”  If you could, you would have slapped him right there; but you couldn't. He knew the things Alfred had done. He was just trying to twist the knife in deeper.

          “Y-Yes, absolutely.” He muttered out lowly; by now, Alfred was nearly shaking with anger. The color and cheerfulness was gone from his face; in place his fists curled up at his sides, dark, swirling orbs were bowed down under his cap, and his lips were pursed into a tight, straight line. He was going to erupt for sure. But he kept his composure and curtly bowed, saluting. Before he turned tail, he stared straight into your eyes and murmured out, “I’ll be seeing you.”

          Then he left; you watched his tall, lonesome silhouette as he walked away; the look of hurt in his eyes, like an open wound with salt rubbed into it. You didn't think you’d ever forget that face; the face of discontent. Ludwig slowly ran his hand ran down your back, playing with your silver rivets. “Come, my dear. Let’s mingle.” That was the most painful evening of your life, you decided.

          “I can’t believe you Ludwig! Alfred is a good friend of mine-”

          “Ja, especially in the way held you in his arms. As 

if he would never let go!” The large German man slammed his hands into the ebony 

desk, glaring at you from across the room. You had changed out of your uniform already and into some daintier nightwear, but you weren't any less mad than before.

          “At least he actually talks to me instead of treating me like a plaything! If I had known-”

          “What! Wouldn't you have married me! This was your idea! You silly little girl!”

          By the time Ludwig knew what happen to him, you were already walking out of the room. You smacked him, leaving a large red mark across his stone, surprised face, leaving his mouth slightly agape like a fish.

          “Don’t you dare insult me again.”

   

         The sheets were cold. You shifted uncomfortably under the Egyptian cotton, unable to find a good position. The moon seeped through the bedroom curtains, filtering in to create small, sparkling pins that danced on the walls. You gave up and sighed, your heart heavy and pained of melted lead, just sitting in the crevices; a pool of silence.      

          There was a click at the door and rustling of clothes.  You quickly closed your eyes and slowed your breathing, pretending to be asleep. The bed dipped deeply at the weight of your partner, making it slightly hard hide to disguise the fact you were awake. The sheets rustled and you felt and arm wrap around you waist. Smooth cloth rubbed up against the small of your back, lean muscles rippling underneath. It was warm again and your body subconsciously relaxed.

          “I’m sorry.” You said nothing as the man kissed the back of your head, his hands twirling locks around his finger. You lay there for a moment, silent, as he played with the hair. Then there was a yank. “I know you’re awake. Don’t try to hide it.”