It was the season of war. And the military was recruiting. It was time for your father's turn. But he didn't want to go. You understand; he was the head of the family and he had his own businesses to attend to.
It wasn't until you were called to the living room by your father did you know what he was planning.
He was planning to send you to war.
Your long (color) hair wavered as you walked through the halls. Servants bowed politely as you continued to walk. The aura was unbelievably scary. It was as if you were going away to die, and never to come back. That farewell kind of feeling where you'll never see anyone again from this large house.
The house was no longer joyful as your mother passed away more than eighteen years ago from giving birth to you. Your father always despised you for that fact, believing that you were the devil who killed his beloved.
"Father, what is it you need?"
"As you know, the military is recruiting. Will you sign up in place of your father?" Your father's hand faltered. "You know I cannot go and leave this house unattended."
"I understand, and I will. For your sake, father. But why not send someone el-" You were interrupted as your father's hand slammed his large chair's armrest.
"You are my daughter! You will do as I wish for you to!" Your father pointed his finger at you, rising his tone angrily. You were displeased, and heartbroken. It was unfortunate to be born into a home with a father as this one. Your mother; well, she was a beauty and well-loved by everyone in the house. She was a natural at being a socialite. As for you, you inherited her skills as being a bright one, friendly and almost always quiet.
"Yes, father." Your father signaled you over as you obeyed. He grabbed the scissor and cut your hair, styling it like a man.
"Good. I shall submit the form today! You will become a wonderful fighter, (Name)!" A slight smirk played on your father's mouth as you exited the room, without speaking another word.
You return to you room and sat blankly on your bed. Your father was basically forcing you into this business without your consent, and you couldn't decline his offer.
You began to quietly weep out of fear that you were never going to return back to the house. You began to look out the window. The birds were chirping happily to no end as the wind was softly blowing as music against your window. The curtains silently danced to the wind upon the window, as if the music of Waltz was playing.
Dusk replaced dawn as the morning sun began to set. The next morning would be your departure.
You were restless.
A soldier arrived early at your house, ordering you to get on the loaded truck to the training camps for soldiers.
You were to walk like a man, talk like a man, hide your breasts and conceal as best as you could.
The truck began moving away from your home. "Wow, sir. Is that really your home?" You nodded. "That's unbelievable. The military really needs people, don't they?" You only nodded again before putting a stoic emotion back on play. More men were loaded onto the truck as it became fuller and heavier.
You shook your head at the sight. It was horrifying to even spare another look. You only shut your eyes.
If it wasn't for your father.
The truck came to a stop as the men tried to steady themselves. Bumps and rocks were a problem on the road, especially in the time of wars.
Men unloaded themselves as the truck door opened. Most of them were walking into the training ground like dead zombies, about to fall.
"Hurry it up!" A soldier on the side shouted, aiming his gun at the newcomers. What caught your eyes wasn't him and his loudness.
It was a General on the side who kept his calmness together and was standing straight with a whip in his hand, looking at the new recruiters. He didn't speak a word, which caught your interest. You figured that you were looking at him for far too long that his blue eyes were looking into your own as well.
You swallowed hard, bowed and continued your way to the training ground, pacing.
"That is it, Sir."
"Very well." The General replied, waving off his underlings as he followed track to the training. You stood in front of another man, forming a new line. Sweat began dripping down your forehead in anxiety. Your heart skipped a beat, your face paled and you felt like your legs were about to give out anytime.
The blond-haired General spared you another glance before standing in front of the group of men, getting ready to speak.
"Men," his voice projected loudly and deep. "I'm General Beilschmidt. My goal is not to train you to become weaklings, but to train you to become the best of the best of the German army. Do you understand me?!" General Beilschmidt only cracked his whip before you shivered, afraid.
"Yes, Sir!" The men and yourself replied loudly as a smirk played on the General's handsome face. His icy eyes turned to look at you before he broke the eye contact.
"I want you all to run fifteen laps back and forth the training ground," he commanded. "No slacking or you'll suffer the punishment, and I can promise it will not be easy under my order."
The men only saluted, hailing the General before marching around and began to run.
Fifteen laps was enough to get people heaving their chest heavily and sighing about heavy workload.
But you were still holding fine, and doing some extra weight training to repair the essents of a man in the gym for soldiers.
The General's eyes were the first to catch yours. You saluted as he waved you off.
"There's no need for that," you heard him say. "We've been off guarding for five hours, soldier." You only nodded at his words, moving yourself to the lift. "What is your name, soldier?"
"(L/N), General." The blonde haired man only nodded, continuing his training. "I haven't seen a lot like you that can endure the hard training. I could tell you were a bit different. Hardworking soldiers are what I like."
"Yes sir. I believe that hardship leads to good ideals and results." General Beilschmidt only nodded and smirked.
"That's great, (L/N). I'm glad they recruited someone hardworking this year. Those slackers will need to shape up."
"I believe you will shape them well, sir."
"Very well, (L/N)." You only gave him a manly smirk before returning to your weight lifting session. You continued to watch General Beilschmidt from afar.
Maybe he wasn't that bad.
He was strict on the inside, but his exterior was friendly. It's just that people don't see this side of him at all.
You stopped looking at him, and began to focus on your own training.
"Soldier, let us have a competition, shall we?" You heard your General say. You nodded slightly. "Let us see who can do the most lifts." You gave him a defiant smirk as you began positioning yourself at the lift, with him doing the same. "Ready, set and go!"
It ended up that the General did 150 as you did only 102. It was a huge difference, but he still commended you on it. "It was great, (L/N)." He wiped his sweat away as he patted his hand on your shoulder, expressing man-to-man friendship gestures, as your father had told you.
"Thank you, sir." You wiped the sweat away.
"Let us go drink!"
"No sir. I'm not of the class to drink with a General such as you." The German quickly waved at your stupid answer.
"Impossible, soldier! Beer is how men bond with one another no matter the class! Now, let us go!" The German grabbed your wrist and led you to bar where tons of Germans were seated there, already drinking to their heart's content.
"General Beilschmidt!" A man hailed.
"Two for now." The man quickly walked off to come back with two mugs of beer, filled to the top. You couldn't refuse, you were too afraid to refuse; so you drank down the substance as the taste of beer lingers in your mouth even after you had returned to your bed.
Tomorrow could be worst, right?
Only God knew how to answer that.
Everything was unpredictable.