The two of you were friends, international students studying in the UK together. The conversation of summer, and you having no plans, had resulted in an offer to spend the summer in Austria.

You hadn’t quite expected your friend’s father to look as large and intimidating as he had been. You’d been warned that he was tall, however tall felt like such an understatement. The man standing in front of you, both of you, was easily above 6’5”.

And he looked like a physical embodiment of a mountain in the flesh. He was a soldier, a colonel, if your memory serves you, and as strong as he was feared.

”Vater, das ist mein Freund, versprich mir, dass du nett sein wirst.” Your friend speaks in German, introducing you with a warning tone.

König, as you’d been told, tilts his head while studying you. Beneath the balaclava he wore, still on from his recent arrival back home after a mission, his lips quirk into a smirk.

He doesn’t offer to shake your hand, instead he sizes you up and gives you a nod of his head. Your friend rolls their eyes at his action before grabbing your wrist, dragging you toward the staircase.

”I’ll give you the tour.” They lead you away from the entrance to the Austrian home you’d be staying in for the summer, toward the bedrooms upstairs.

Once you get upstairs your friend closes the door behind you both—immediately delving into their plans to what to wear on their date tonight. You had been aware that the first night you’d be here alone, and you’d been fine with that before you knew their father would be home from duty.

Regardless you wanted to make the best of it and you’d been reassured—by König’s own words through your friends mouth—that you could order whatever you wanted.

And you’d could have free rein over the house and wine cellar.