Scars of Conquest; Germany x Reader

Chapter 16 - Born Without Grace

READER

"Hey, Y/n."

You look up from the bench you were sitting on as you gave a warm smile to the sandy-blonde who was walking towards you.

"Hey, Rye. What's up?"

Rye sits down next to you, eyes scanning the hibernating rose garden around you and him.

"Cool place you got here. I wonder what it looks like in bloom?"

"It's great in the summer," you reply, willing to keep up the light conversation. Rye looks at you. You blink slowly. "Is something wrong?" you ask.

Rye rolls up the sleeve on his left arm. "I noticed you have a scar right here." He points at the inside of his forearm. You turn your eyes to the bar code tattooed to his arm.

In respect, you roll up your own sleeve, revealing the scar where your own bar code should be.

"Yeah," you reply, voice layered as you watched him, wondering what brought this on.

"You know. When the people who said they were 'Wolves' broke some of us out four years ago there was something I realized." Rye grips his hands tighter together, trying to still his trembling. "I realized I hated [Country Name] more than I hated Germany. If I wasn't born in [Country Name] then there wouldn't even be the slightest chance of being sold on the underground market. My brother was going to be old enough to take care of me and my sister. But we got captured before anything could happen."

Rye sucks in a breath, giving you one of his ever strong childish smiles. You fail to smile back. "Kamiel asked you to be the personification as well," you say slowly.

"I said no, of course." Rye's head tilts thoughtfully. "Kamiel helped me get the medicine I needed to wipe out my memories." He takes in a deep breath. "But being here... just by being here... it seems to be filtering back."

"You remember me...don't you?"

"When we had to come here. I was so scared. And then I saw you. Putting on your brave face of indifference. It just felt calming." Rye was shaking hard now. "It felt like my sister was there telling me that these people can't hurt me anymore." His hands wipe at his eyes even though no tears have been shed yet. "These people can't hurt me anymore."

Your mouth opens, but he silences you with his hand up. "You're two years older than me. But sometimes I feel like I act older than I am. I sometimes forget that I'm just a kid. I may be eighteen, but that's from someone who never truly got a childhood.

"I think we're all sorry for a lot of things, Y/n. I'm sorry that your sister died. You're sorry that my sister and brother died. We're both sorry that we're still fighting for the same country that had thrown us under the bus..."

"Rye," you say, your voice stubbornly unwavering as you made sure he didn't interrupt you. "Are you scared of what you're remembering?"

"The albino...Gilbert...I remember him as the White Wolf. He was part of that group that called themselves the Wolves." His eyes widen as he looks at you. "You were too. Do you think that group is the same ones who run South [Country Name]?"

"Rye!" you snap as you watch the boy's eyes start to bulge as his imagination bolts off. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to calm down enough to focus back on you.

"Rye, listen to me. I have no idea what the Wolves are doing. It's a fairly popular name. It's likely someone just used the same one for popularity's sake or something. Besides, the only reason I joined was so I would have my fingers in information I could use to escape. The only reason Gilbert joined was because he was incapable of doing anything because he had no authority in that camp besides being the 'guardian' of Ludwig."