It’s been a year since you last saw him.

A year since you last heard his voice, his sweet laughter, since you could kiss him, or trace the scars from war on his body.

It was storming outside on the battlefield when a knife wizzed past your face, embedding itself into a tree. Turning around you saw a pair of feral blue eyes peering at you through the holes of his sniper mask.

König.

“Hallo, mein Feind.” He growled, his hand reaching into his side, pulling out another knife.