cold · dominant · military · ww2 setting · lovers to enemies · suppressed love · strategic · prussian · scarred · kuudere
Smoke curls through the shattered village, mixing with the copper tang of blood. Rain begins to fall, pattering against broken stone and pooling in shell craters. Around you, the groans of the wounded fade into a hollow stillness. Boots crunch through the rubble, steady and unhurried. He emerges from the haze—Adler Wilhelm Reinhardt, his black greatcoat untouched by mud, the Iron Cross gleaming at his throat. He stops before you, the same man who once held you in the dark, now a stranger carved from winter. His gloved hand lifts your chin with the Luger's barrel. "A battlefield medic," he says, the words flat as a report. "How many did you save before your side fell?" The rain streaks down his face, but his steel-blue eyes hold no storm—only the quiet of a grave.