Germany x Country! Reader - Fellow country
[F/n] ran her hands through her hair, nails digging her scalp.
I just want to make the pain go away.
The mute screech stuck on her hoarse throat, because sounds wouldn’t make any difference, the explosions and screams made an overwhelming mixture, drowning her thoughts, pounding over her ears, dragging her down.
Her legs were smashed against her chest, currently a bleeding mess; the camouflage from her clothes a useless thing now.
The salty, iron like smell filled her nostrils.
Not too far away from where she was, gunshots could be heard through the wind, mixed with the yells and cracking of the flames in a fire started by the enemy.
[F/n] started shaking.
Her people cried and it was such a desperate sound. The tears made [s/c] lines on their way down on her dusted face, but they weren’t [c/n]’s.
Her whole nation cried. And she could feel them, her body bleeding and her eyes leaking nonstop. Each tear and blood drop not hers, but theirs. For every one the war hurt, they were her people and the pain would stab her deeper and deeper. And she would feel the agony with them.
They haunted her thoughts and soul.
And, while the cold mud that seemed to stick through her bones with every step she took on the battlefield; she would try to ease their despair, along with brave, good men. Her soldiers.
The metal from the weapon was a dry, frozen piece of memory, a reminder that now stood a few feet away from her, next to the creased helmet, and a few pieces of wood.
Coughing, she looked to her too thin and dirty hands. A bit sticky with blood. She shrugged.
“[F/n]!”, someone called.
She frowned. Who…?
The girl lifted her head towards the voice. It sounded… Familiar.
“I’m”, a horrible sound, a poorly made joke of a voice, came out of her lips. Too low to be noticed. She tried again. “I’m here!”
Footsteps on the dusted ground, running, closer to her.
First, she saw the uniform of a soldier, the broad chest and strong arms holding a rifle, the faint sense of gunpowder and sweat invading her over saturated nostrils. Then, a pair of blue eyes stared at her, two rigid stones, which slowly melted once checking her appearance.
Ludwig kneeled beside her.
-[F/n]. – He whispered, in an unusual kind, yet worried, tone. –What happened to you?
Coughing, a new gush of blood soaked her hands when she covered her mouth.
She gave him a faint smile.
-I’m defending my people. Buying their peace, as they wanted me to.
On a stiff gest, he stretched his fingers, taking a [h/c] strand away from her forehead.
-That doesn’t work like that. You’re… Too young to understand.
Her [e/c] had a dull way, as she tiredly gazed at him, a hitch of despair blurring the color.
-What else could I have done? I’m their nation. I must protect them.
He picked her up, like she weighted nothing at all. She cringed in pain, her eyes shut tight. He held her like he would do to a child.
-Yes, you are. – He answered. –But to protect them also mean to stay that way.
She dug her hands on the open wounds, a wince distorted her features, yet a twisted smile made way in her pain.
-That’s what I’m trying to do.
Everything went black.
He looked at the pieces of feature that the moonlight reveled, her [s/c] face and hair becoming monochromatic under the dim source of light. The filthy barrack that served as a poor excuse of a hospital, with the barely muffled cries, the sounds of the bones being broken and the constants drips from the horrible thing attached to her thin arm didn’t seem to fit her. It created a suffocating aura around the place and that simply wasn’t right. [f/c] was a cheerful girl, and [c/n] was a happy place, which Ludwig would always think of when he thought about somewhere peaceful.
And that’s why it was so wrong.
A separatist movement grew within the lands of [c/n]. And as their demands seem to attract more and more people, he watched horrified as [f/n], the merriest among the group of crazy nations he had to bear with, became a shadow of herself. A shadow that was always trying to hide her pain behind her sweets, yet slightly bitter, smiles.
When the situation finally became unbearable and the war within her country exploded, he was the first to feel her absence. He was also the first to suggest they should do something to help her, only to be surprised as the other wouldn’t, or couldn’t, help in any way.
So he did it.
And when he found her…
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He could still hear [f/n], feel her light body pressed against him, while her conscious faded away. It pained him to see the light on that incredibly [e/c] went out.
And, while he engraved her features on his mind once more, Ludwig extended his hand, almost taking a [h/c] lock between his fingers, but she moved in her sleep, and he withdrew it as fast as if it burned him.
He felt himself blush.
What he was doing? It wasn’t as he had any right to touch her, or that she had any feelings for him to accept that behavior and he -.
Germany let his head hung for a moment. The tips of his boots sinking on the mud became all that he could look at.
He would do his duty there. He would help a fellow country.