My Beloved Enemy [Rated R] - [Ludwig Beilschmidt x Billie Rousseau]

Chapter 1 - Contempt

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia nor Alucardvlad01!

PASSING REFERENCE: There are going to be two versions of the short story. A PG-13 version and a rated R one. This one is the rated R one. Don't like smut? Don't read it! Chapter 7/ chapter 8 are going to contain A LOT of mature content! The PG-13 version is going to be shorter and somewhat different, for I'm going to remove the obscene parts.

NOW THERE'S ONLY ONE THING LEFT TO SAY : Happy Birthday, Billie! ^-^ I hope you're going to enjoy your birthday present. I gave it my best effort!

Chapter 1 – Contempt

She didn't know where she was nor what was actually going on as she followed Japan along the streets of Berlin. The only thing she could remember was how someone had pulled a sack over her head, blinding her, telling her that she was arrested for breaking the German law.

“What on earth do you think you're doing?” she had scolded the policeman who had handcuffed her.

“Miss, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law”, he deadpanned mercilessly.

“You arrest me for buying a bouquet of flowers?!”

“Was für'ne dumme Frage [1]”, one of them said in an obviously patronizing manner. “No, but for disregarding and therefore mocking the German law”.

They had guided her to their office afterward, had told her to wait until their leader had delivered his verdict. She had wondered whether in Germany defendants didn't have the right to engage the services of a lawyer. Did they simply have to accept their punishment, whether it was just or unjust? – What a strange country! When Japan eventually had entered the office she had breathed out in relief – Japan was a reasonable man. Probably he had been sent to let the police know that she'd been the victim of a gross injustice and that they had to let her go. But it had been wrong to think that anyone had recognized the absurdity of her arrest. Instead she had found out that Japan had been sent to take her all the way from Strasbourg to Berlin for Germany wished to speak to her face-to-face. One and a half hour later Germany's private jet had come in to land and she had been treated like a hostage, having that black sack being pulled over her head. Japan had apologized for the German's roughness, but she hadn't cared much about it – after all it hadn't changed the circumstances.

“Mind telling me where we're going?” she sighed after another ten minutes of walking.

“I would love to, but Mr. Germany insists on secrecy concerning his whereabouts”, Japan replied.

“Secrecy concerning his whereabouts? Mon Dieu [2]! We're in Berlin, I guess that tells everything!” she murmured bitterly.

“I know. Sometimes I don't quite understand him myself”, Japan admitted quietly.

***

“Germany! Germany!” a rather high-pitched yet male voice yelled as they crossed the entrance hall of a huge building – she could tell that it was huge by the sound of their footsteps and the cheery man's voice reverberating throughout the entire corridor while they were heading for the stairs leading to the first floor. “Germany, great brother France is here!"

As she entered the room everyone immediately fell silent. She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable knowing that everyone's eyes were on her now.

“Well”, Germany eventually spoke up – she would've recognized his accent everywhere! “He looks rather feminine today”.

“Germany, you ought to know that this is not- “, Japan started, but he trailed off as she interrupted him.

“I'm not France”.

“What?” Germany's voice raised, betraying his usual short-tempered attitude. The next moment the sack was pulled off her head, revealing her face – revealing her obviously not being France.

“Who is this?” he addressed himself to the chief of police.

“This is the one we caught crossing the border this afternoon, sir”.

“But you claimed that you've arrested France”.

“I merely said that we've arrested an accomplice of France, a Frenchwoman”.

“Dummkopf [3]!” Germany shouted at him, flinging up his hands and kicking a nearby table. Everyone flinched.

“But sir, this isn't just any Frenchwoman. It's Sybille Rousseau. She's Mr. Bonnefoy's cook”, the chief tried to explain himself.

“I don't care who the hell she is! I told you to trap France, not his whore- “ Germany was interrupted mid-sentence as Sybille yelped indignantly and slapped him in the face. Deadly silence...

Germany slowly raised his hand to touch his reddening cheek, confused and apparently speechless. Sybille's cheeks as well turned a dark shade of red, pointing out her fury. She glared at him, biting back her tears.

“How dare you insulting me like that, pauvre connard [4]!”

Another minute of tense silence. Everyone stared at the two of them now, most probably expecting Germany's next fit of rage to overwhelm him. But instead of drawing back his hand to slap her back, the tall blond merely cleared his throat.

“Japan, please show our guest to her room”, he ordered calmly, his pale blue eyes never leaving hers – there was something threatening about his gaze, she thought.

“You mean-?”

“Ja [5]”, Germany answered tersely before turning his back on them, still holding his burning cheek. Japan sighed.

“I'm truly sorry, Miss Rousseau”, he whispered just loud enough for Sybille to hear him.

[1] Was für'ne dumme Frage! - What a stupid question!

[2] Mon Dieu! - My God!

[3] Dummkopf! - Idiot!

[4] Pauvre connard! - You asshole!

[5] Ja – Yes