Violator (Noun): A person who breaks or fails to comply with a rule or formal agreement.
Chapter One: Clean
"Clean
The cleanest I've been
An end to the tears
And the in-between years
And the troubles I've seen
Now that I'm clean
You know what I mean
I've broken my fall
Put an end to it all
I've changed my routine
Now I'm clean
I don't understand
What destiny's planned
I'm starting to grasp
What is in my own hands
I don't claim to know
Where my holiness goes
I just know that I like
What is starting to show
Sometimes"
Sometimes, life is not what you planned. Sometimes, it's worse. Sometimes, it's better. But moreover, no matter how much you try, you cannot control the path your ship takes. Oh, you can guide it – with force of will and strength, you can steer it against the waves of change and fight until your last breath to keep your life on course. But, if the sea wishes, it will take you and your ship to lands unknown and from there you must do your best to adapt.
Georg had been told this, by his grandfather, when he was a small child. His grandfather, a self proclaimed wise man, who, much to Georg's grandmother's annoyance, would recall to young Georg strange and enchanting tales of how he commanded ship after ship. These stories were always fanciful, but when you're a child you'll believe anything. Or at least, believe anything if you know your grandfather will give you a piece of chocolate and the promise of more exciting tales. But then Georg had grown up, and left these silly stories behind.
However, he had still followed the footsteps of his grandfather, and father, before him and been called by the sea. He had joined the Imperial and Royal Austro-Hungarian Navy and graduated four years later. But after several voyages and posts on multiple cruisers, Georg had decided that a life under the sea was for him. Submarine ships did not care for waves, or stormy weather. They soared through the depths, silent and undetected, not caring what was happening above. It was this that an older Georg had told his grandfather: you can control the path your ship takes – you just need the right ship.
Order, control, discipline. These were the principles he had lived by in his career and they have served him well. He had fought bravely, kept a cool head and maintained a tight ship. This had resulted in many medals, a name for himself in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the respect of his fellow officers. He had become his own man, and he had hoped that his grandfather would be proud. But it had all come crashing down. The empire lost. The sea gone. There was no use for him anymore. And so he had returned to his home, knowing that he at least had his beloved Agathe and their dear children.
But then God, Fate or whoever – whatever, was in charge of the universe had decided that Georg von Trapp still had too much happiness and so they had taken the last of it. It was then that Georg had remembered what he had said to his grandfather all those years ago, that a submarine was silent and undetected as it moved through the ocean. And he could do that too; he could maintain some sense of control as the rest of his world fell away. The children could have a governess, and maybe a nanny for the younger children. Other teachers could be hired.
It had worked, to an extent. Over the past four years he had hired twenty-six different people to keep his children in line. Eleven governesses, three nannies and twelve other teachers had come and gone. It had turned into a grotesque routine of sorts. Go to Vienna, receive call from a frazzled Frau Schmidt, return home, reprimand children, hire replacement, return to Vienna, enjoy a few months of peace and then the whole process was repeated.
Elsa's mother had suggested during one evening that he send them to boarding school and be done with it, but he couldn't do that. Despite what his children and staff believed, he still had a heart. And he would not subject his children to the kind of education he had had.
And so he sailed on, believing the false sense of security that he felt in his little submarine as he moved through the ocean, unaware that above him the water was frozen and eventually he'd drown.
A/N Another story? Yes I know; I clearly have a problem. Anyway, I've been listening to the album "Violator" by Depeche Mode a lot lately and realised how many songs are so damn fitting. One of the songs on the album is called "Blue Dress" – I mean, come on, how could I not? Plus, gotta love me some old Brit synth-pop.
This story will be from the Captain's perspective and will have a slight dark tone to it. Nothing overly sinister but I like my angst and I'm happiest writing it more than anything else, and since I wrote this listening to these songs that will be reflected within the story.