A/N: so after my 46 chapter story I fancied writing a one shot that's more lighthearted! I find these harder to write than all the angsty ones, so I hope it's still entertaining!
It's Christmas themed, so for the sake of the story, just imagine that everything happens as it does in canon, but during the festive season instead. Also, I've made the assumption that mistletoe isn't a big thing in Salzburg, since it's an English tradition, and so the children wouldn't be too familiar with it. Again, it's for the sake of the story, so humour me! :)
It takes place somewhere between Edelweiss and the Ländler.
Underneath the Mistletoe
All he could do was sit back, attempt to relax, and clutch tightly at his glass of scotch while chaos ensued around him. The children were scattered in front of the tree, some on their knees, some reaching high to decorate the taller branches with endless reels of tinsel while fir needles scattered haphazardly at their feet. Their excitable chatter filled the room, and baubles, treats and various other glittery paraphernalia littered the drawing room floor. A teetering step ladder stood ominously in the corner, waiting to be used when the time came to decorate the most unreachable of branches.
Not three weeks ago, such mayhem would've sent him flying into an intolerable rage. And as it was, he couldn't quite deny that the old disciplinarian in him was tempted to launch to his feet and demand that order be restored immediately. But, unbelievable as it seemed, he found that he was actually rather enjoying his children's contagious enthusiasm. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so... happy.
An odd sense of peace had settled over the house in the last month or so, wrapping around him and warming his body from the inside out, much like Gretl's favourite comfort blanket. It puzzled him greatly - if anything he should've been feeling ill at ease. After all, his feathers had been ruffled and his nest entirely upturned by an unforeseen distraction in the form of a vivacious young postulant. A whirlwind who'd unwelcomely catapulted into his life from her unlikely hiding place at Nonnberg Abbey.
Frustrated, he let go of the breath he'd unknowingly been holding and took a much-needed swig of his scotch, welcoming the burn that slid down his throat. He should've been focusing on the children's festive joy but, in truth, his eyes kept drifting of their own accord in the direction of delightfully flushed cheeks, guileless eyes, and curves that a modest homemade dress did absolutely nothing to hide... And it was in the midst of such inappropriate musings that the subject of his attentions suddenly chose to bend over and capture a runaway bauble that had slipped from Gretl's grasp.
He swallowed hard.
Forcing his eyes away and sinking lower in his chair guiltily, he took another large slug of his scotch to calm his elevated pulse and chanced a glance at Elsa to see if she'd noticed his little faux pas. It was hardly his fault after all - it was simply unfortunate that he happened to be looking in that particular direction when his governess had unknowingly accentuated her... attributes. She was surely far too innocent to understand her own appeal, too naive to have any idea that she'd awoken some long-dormant hormones in her employer. As his eyes fell on Elsa, he felt no such heat - only relief when he noticed she was far too engrossed in her inane chit chat with Max to give much thought as to what was going on in the rest of room.
Elsa. He'd been neglecting her yet again and he was old enough and wise enough to know exactly why, for heaven's sake! The entire situation was getting rather ridiculous. Here he was, with his ship sailing steadily through clear tides for the first time in years, his relationship with his children almost completely restored, and a woman of impeccable social standing hanging off his arm awaiting an offer of marriage. Any other man in his position would've been over the moon. And yet he found himself feeling troubled. Troubled by his complete inability to stop brooding about the enigma that was Fräulein Maria.
At some point during his musings, his mutinous gaze had drifted back to the young woman in question again. Her eyes were dancing with innocent wonder as she drank in the sight of the tree, smiling broadly and nodding her approval at the youngest children's handiwork. He chuckled quietly to himself, marvelling at the way in which she could becomeso utterly enraptured by the simplest of things. With the children milling around her excitedly, she was entirely too absorbed in her task to notice what was going on around her - so much so, that she'd barely even acknowledged his presence in the room since their decorating extravaganza began. And the neglect left him feeling a rather bizarre pang of... envy?
Surely not.
Their truce a few weeks ago had led to a mismatched friendship of sorts, and with it had come an odd - though purely physical - attraction on his part that had entirely caught him by surprise. The realisation hadn't been cause for alarm however - after all, he'd been attracted to plenty of women in his lifetime and they'd all been of little consequence. He hadn't wasted any time dwelling on it. That is, until the moment his eyes had met hers, guitar in hand, as the melodic sounds of Edelweiss had filled the room around them the night of the puppet show. Everything had changed that evening, for he'd discovered a similar heat, a similar admiration, churning away in her own irises that he'd hardly dared to acknowledge.
She had unknowingly worn her heart on her sleeve for him in those moments, and with it came the shocking realisation that he was most definitely playing with fire. An unrequited attraction on his side was one thing - his bizarre desire for her was entirely harmless when he knew he could never act on it. He was, after all, a gentleman and he certainly wouldn't make it his mission to steal into her bed. But the unmistakable longing in her eyes had momentarily stripped away the illusion that she was off limits, making her appear not so untouchable after all. What was worse was the fact that, as the days had gone by, he'd found himself seeking out her heated gaze once again - chasing the strange euphoria that her admiration and approval had evoked.
But as irony would have it, she'd been avoiding him like a shrinking violet ever since that night, as though she were suddenly self-conscious in his company. And it was only now that he realised how much he actually craved her attentions - to witness her genuine smiles, to see her chin pointed in bold defiance, to fall victim to her unashamed honesty.
He couldn't help but wonder if her newfound self-consciousness was entirely his own doing. Had she somehow noticed his inappropriate interest - despite her sheltered background - and was now trying to distance herself from him? "Well obviously, you imbecile!" he reprimanded himself irritably, clutching a little harder at his tumbler, "she'd have to be blind not to catch on to the way you've been looking at her... she may be naive, but she still has eyes!"
Lovely blue ones in fact...
No, he decided firmly - the entire situation was most definitely all her fault. She had been the one to thrust that godforsaken guitar in his face that night and insist that he sing for everyone - all the while looking utterly captivating in swaths of flowing chiffon. And he hadn't had a moment's peace since!
He took yet another irritable swig of his drink. So disturbed was he by the riddle of blue eyes, pink blushes and full lips, that he entirely failed to notice his eldest son bounding up to him with a hopeful look in his eye. It took him even longer to register that the boy was actually asking him a question.
"Hmm..?" Georg replied lazily, pulling his gaze reluctantly from his governess. It was then that he realised his entire brood was staring at him expectantly, awaiting his response with baited breath. He froze, caught with his guard down. How long had they all been watching him, he wondered uneasily - and had they noticed what, or rather who, had been distracting him?
Meeting his son's hopeful gaze once again he wracked his brains for what the boy's question might've been but, much to his chagrin, he had absolutely no idea. He'd allowed himself to slip... again...
"Wh.. what?" He blurted stupidly, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat in an attempt to regain some composure, "sorry Friedrich? What was that?"
He knew instantly, without having to look, that the Fräulein was now observing him too, though she would look away and blush furiously if he were to return her gaze. It was bizarre really - she could face him head on in an argument but whenever they found themselves entangled in one of their perplexing staring contests, whenever he chose to gently tease her within the margins of their newfound armistice - the boundaries of formality would blur and she would become shy, bashful, flustered, overly wary of him. Unless of course, he dared to provoke her... in which case she would forget her caution and rise defiantly to the challenge. She was so young, so innocent and naive in some respects and then she would surprise him with something so profound, so honest, so refreshing that she would appear incredibly wise beyond her years.
"Father..?"
Forcing himself to concentrate, he fixed his eyes to Friedrich's face, absolutely avoiding the temptation to glance at his governess.
"Can I put the angel on top of the tree?" the boy repeated, "I'll be especially careful!"
Pondering the request for a moment, Georg cast a weary eye towards the monstrous fir tree in the corner. It must've been at least twelve feet tall and the step ladder in the other corner looked entirely too ominous for his liking. He found himself suddenly in a quandary. If he refused the request, he'd be met with his children's immediate disappointment. But on the other hand, his refusal might be just the thing to goad the tempestuous little Fräulein out of her nervous shell...
He made up his mind immediately.
"Absolutely out of the question. You could fall and break the heirloom. Or worse, your neck!"
"Ohhhh, Captain... you can't be serious!" Fräulein Maria interjected exasperatedly as if on cue. Georg smirked - as he'd suspected, she just couldn't help herself...
"I can assure you I'm deadly serious Fräulein."
"Well deadly I can believe..." she muttered under her breath.
It took all his willpower not to grin gleefully at the fact that he'd successfully resuscitated her fire. Instead, he raised an amused eyebrow and she hurriedly corrected her mistake, "er... what I mean to say Captain, is that Friedrich isn't a boy anymore, he can climb a ladder just fine!"
He should've been annoyed by her impertinence and yet he couldn't help the flicker of fiendish delight that her challenge evoked. Gone were her shy blushes and nervous glances, instantly replaced by the previous ferocity that was far more befitting of her character. He wants to be a man like you but there's no one to show him how. Her previous words about his son rang clear as a bell in his mind but still, it was far more fun to simply contradict her...
"Nevertheless Fräulein," he responded, attempting to appear nonchalant, "I think it's best for Friedrich's somewhat clumsy feet to remain firmly on the ground."
The will-o-the-wisp's only response was to roll her eyes at him, though her smile remained, serving to both irritate and... satisfy him immensely. Either way, her protests would go unheeded. In this house, his word was law - she ought to know that by now. But much to his amusement, it seemed the wayward governess was not yet willing to surrender.
"Sir," she needled, with a hopeful Friedrich watching as though observing a particularly rapid tennis match, "if safety is your main concern, then surely it's best to leave the more laborious tasks to the young men of the household..."
The small smirk that had been playing around his mouth during their thoroughly entertaining exchange rapidly disappeared and he found himself suddenly aggravated beyond measure. Did she think he was too old and decrepit to climb a blasted ladder?! He'd always considered himself an active man who worked hard to keep himself in good health and now this mere slip of a girl was indirectly drawing attention to his seniority. For reasons he hardly dared to admit, he didn't much like the thought of the energetic little Fräulein regarding him as an aged man.
"Are you implying that you think me old, Fräulein?" He retorted venomously.
"Oh no sir! Not old!" She cried in defence, "Just older... than some people," she clarified bluntly, "But... younger than... " she trailed off as though desperately trying to come up with a hasty answer that would satisfy him.
"Than..?" Was his dangerously steely response.
She pondered for a moment, then gave a hopeless little shrug, "Most trees..?"
The faint sound of giggling could be heard from his brood a few feet away, but Georg found himself far too taken aback to silence the young traitors. With a sullen scowl etching his brow and an absentminded hand wandering defensively to his greying hairline, he opened his mouth to reprimand her for her blatant audacity - but the words died on his lips when he suddenly noticed the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she looked away from him.
He could hardly believe it. The little spitfire was pulling his leg!
Oh ho, she knew exactly how to wind him up and she was taking the greatest pleasure in it! The realisation left him altogether impressed, aggravated, amused and - he could hardly deny it - inexcusably... stimulated.
So stimulated in fact, that it took only a few more seconds of her adamant coaxing for him to concede defeat over Friedrich's request. And before he could even grasp what was happening, his beaming son was thanking him profusely and ascending the ladder with Agathe's porcelain angel clutched in one hand, leaving him to silently puzzle over the unexpected turn of events. How had she done it?! He was never so easily persuaded! Shooting the enigma a dangerous glare, he noticed that her eyes were fixed on Friedrich, but her teasing smile remained. In fact, she was positively glowing with triumph. It seemed the wily fox had bested him!
"I have a marvellous idea Georg!" Elsa trilled suddenly, pulling him from his disturbing reverie. She broke away from her conversation with Max and floated effortlessly out of her seat, silently commanding the attention of the whole room, "let's really fill this house with festive cheer. You simply must decorate the villa with mistletoe!"
She flashed him a flirtatious smile from under her thick lashes, the implication of her suggestion quite obvious.
"O-ho, mistletoe indeed," he chuckled apprehensively, secretly hoping to laugh off the brazen request.
"What a charming idea!" Max interjected gleefully, fixing Georg with a satisfied smirk. This would certainly be an interesting development.
"What's mistletoe?" Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste, as though he already knew he wouldn't much care for the answer.
"It's a plant," Brigitta explained with enthusiasm, "in fact, it attaches itself to the branches of other plants and absorbs the water and nutrients from the host - so in theory one might even call it a parasite!"
Elsa looked entirely aghast as her face creased with unrestrained disgust. Somehow a parasite didn't quite fit in with her plans for being swept off her perfectly pedicured feet.
"Boringggg!" Was Kurt's exasperated retort, silenced immediately by a swift kick from Louisa.
"What's a parasite got to do with Christmas?" Friedrich enquired as he completed his safe descent from the ladder.
Georg heaved a heavy sigh. It was his own fault after all, that his children knew so little about the English tradition. Their knowledge of Agathe's homeland had been somewhat neglected in recent years and he made a quick mental note to remedy that fact immediately. He opened his mouth to explain the festive fable to his waiting brood but much to his surprise, the Fräulein beat him to it.
"According to legend," she began, nestling herself into a nearby chair as seven pairs of curious eyes fell on her, "the son of a god, named Baldur, was prophesied to die. His mother Frigg, the goddess of love, went to all the animals and plants of the natural world to secure an oath that they would not harm him. But Frigg neglected to consult with the unassuming mistletoe, so the scheming god Loki made an arrow from the plant and saw that it was used to kill the otherwise invincible Baldur."
Georg looked on in amusement as his brood gawped at their governess, utterly transfixed. He could hardly blame them, for he too was falling under her spell, his previous irritation dissipating as he observed her animated storytelling. In truth, it was a relief just to be given an excuse to watch her.
"But luckily, the gods were able to resurrect Baldur from the dead," she continued with a dazzling smile, "Delighted, his mother declared mistletoe as a symbol of love and vowed to plant a kiss on all those who passed beneath it. It's now an English tradition that men are allowed to steal a kiss from any woman caught standing under the mistletoe, and to refuse is viewed as bad luck!"
"How romantic!" Liesl (Liesl) gushed, clasping her hands together with glee, much to Georg's torment. The last thing he wanted was for his sixteen-year-old daughter to entertain silly ideas about parasitic plants and meddlesome telegram boys.
"And it's an English tradition?" Liesl pressed, "Did mother know of it, father?" The colour immediately drained from the girl's face and she clapped a hand over her mouth as she realised her mistake, but Georg merely smiled wistfully, attempting to put his daughter at ease. It was true that a few weeks ago the mention of their mother would've sent him into despair, but now he was greeted only with a melancholy kind of nostalgia for a love he'd once experienced.
How strange...
"It's alright Liesl," he reassured on a gentle murmur, his voice softening, "yes… she knew."
His daughter returned the smile with a relieved one of her own and it wasn't long before she and her siblings had fallen back into animated conversation amongst themselves, no doubt about the trials and tribulations of the invincible Baldur. It was then that he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the Fräulein was looking at him curiously again. With a hint of compassion and... was it gratitude? Whatever it was, the look she was casting his way was entirely too unsettling to dwell upon. Luckily, an unsuspecting Max chose that particular moment to break the mounting tension.
"Alas, it's quite obvious who Georg will be stealing a kiss from under the mistletoe, but who is poor old uncle Max to bestow such a blessing upon?"
"You call it a blessing, I call it a curse!" Georg sneered, but the impresario ignored him.
"Perhaps Fräulein Maria might grant you the luxury?" Elsa teased with an air of calculating self-satisfaction that wasn't lost on Georg. He immediately stiffened in his seat, knowing already that he didn't much like where this conversation was going.
The governess shifted uncomfortably in her own chair, "Oh, I really don't think-"
"Ah ah ah Fräulein!" Max grinned wickedly, raising a hand to silence her, "don't be so quick to refuse me my dear," he gave a playful wink, "I wager that just one kiss from Herr Detweiler and you'll be entirely convinced that a life of chastity is not for y-"
"Over my dead body!"
The silence that suddenly befell the room was deafening and Georg could hear nothing but the blood roaring in his ears. All eyes landed on him and it was then that he realised, much to his horror, that the aggressive protest had torn from his own lips. He was clutching the arm of his chair so hard that his knuckles had turned white and his nails were biting into the wood. Clearing his throat and trying to ease the baffling angry lump that had formed in his windpipe, hastily he added, "er... I shan't have my scheming lodger sullying my governess when she is under my protection - no matter how much of a charming sponge you may be!"
My protection, he thought bitterly. Ha! And who's going to protect her from you, you scoundrel!
Oblivious to Georg's discomfort, Max responded with a pout of mock offence that served to ease the previous awkwardness, "I'm not sure which part of your protest has hurt me more Georg... scheming, sullying... or lodger! I am nothing if not the perfect gentleman! And besides," he quipped, turning back to the governess, "I daresay Fräulein Maria is more than capable of holding her own!"
Much to Georg's annoyance, instead of blushing as she would have done under his own scrutiny, the governess was instead humouring Max with a guileless smile - a luxury that hadn't been bestowed on Georg in quite some time. He found it utterly maddening! Why was it that she could happily indulge the impresario's ridiculous wit and yet she couldn't bring herself to offer him the same courtesy?
"As persuasive as you are Herr Detweiler," she laughed, "and as lovely a tradition as mistletoe is, I'm afraid that trying to convince me is as fruitless a task as trying to convince the Captain to let the children sing in the festival."
Oh ho, she was damned clever...
"Challenge accepted!" Max bellowed, raising his glass of scotch high in the air and shooting Georg a look of mischief before taking a victorious gulp.
"Oh Max, you really are a beast!" Elsa tittered, and mere moments later the two of them had drifted back into their own quieted conversation near the liquor cabinet, entirely oblivious to the state of turmoil they'd left the master of the house in.
All that talk of kissing and chastity and his governess... it was enough to leave Georg far too hot under the collar!
Safe in the knowledge that Elsa and Max were now otherwise occupied, he allowed his eyes to fall to the Fräulein's rosy lips from across the room. Had she ever even been kissed - under the mistletoe or otherwise? At the very least she would've thought about it, he concluded - she was far too free-spirited for it to never have crossed her mind. He couldn't deny there was something quite... arousing about the notion of his young governess tucked up inside the abbey walls, restless and stimulated by sinful thoughts of clashing tongues and heated gasps...
But anymore thoughts of such a nature and his body would begin to betray him in the most conspicuous of ways, so he hastened to revert back to territory that he could safely navigate and, if he was honest with himself, could no longer resist - namely, provoking her.
He couldn't possibly fathom what made him do it - perhaps it was his perplexing need for her attention, or his desire to get the better of her after she'd tricked him - but his traitorous legs moved of their own accord and suddenly he was sitting in the chair next to her - though he made it seem like he'd moved purely to get a better look at the finished tree. No one else in the room seemed to notice his bizarre behaviour - except the Fräulein, who shifted nervously in her seat and focused on correcting a non-existence crease in her skirts.
"I had no idea you were so well versed in Norse mythology Fräulein," he teased, hoping to provoke just enough of a reaction to see the fire in her again, "I imagine such fallacies can't possibly be found in the Bible... surely it's against the principles of the Roman Catholic-"
She interrupted his chastisement with an exasperated moan and finally faced him with another roll of her eyes, "it's just a story," she said almost defensively, as though she knew deep down that a postulant ought not to be familiar with such fables, "Surely I'm allowed to be a little bit curious about such things..."
He resisted the urge to ask her whether there were any other sacrilegious enjoyments she was curious about... it certainly wouldn't be the first time he found himself questioning her choice of vocation. She was just so damned lively...
"I love a story as much as the next person!" the Fräulein insisted, oblivious to his inappropriate imaginings, "As long as I do not believe in it, I don't see the harm."
"Hmmm.. " he smirked, "and the fact that churches actually banned the use of mistletoe as a decoration due to its historical association with paganism doesn't pose a problem for you Fräulein?"
Again he couldn't help but bait her - anything to ensure that her rediscovered vivacity would remain. But she merely frowned slightly in confusion.
"Just to keep you informed," he explained smugly, "Norse mythology stems from paganism. And the Celtic Druids of the first century were fascinated by mistletoe - they came to view it as a sacred pagan symbol of vivacity, virility, and most intriguingly... as a method of restoring fertility. Am I not right in assuming that paganism is entirely contradictory to your beliefs Fräulein?"
She merely opened and closed her mouth repeatedly like a goldfish in response to his challenge and looked away from him as though defeated, her cheeks reddening delectably at his words. But before he had a chance to congratulate himself on successfully confounding her, she rounded on him again with that ferocity he seemed to crave.
"Not all churches... " she replied boldly, her defiant pout making her look altogether irresistible, "and besides, mistletoe found its way back into acceptance in Christianity decades ago as a sign of love, romance and good luck. You needn't worry, I'm not about to start dancing naked around your south facing willow tree in order to ward off evil spirits!" She threw him a look of pure defiance, "just to keep you informed, Captain."
It took him a few seconds to realise his mouth was hanging open. Whether it was due to her insolence or the vivid image she'd painted in his head, he wasn't entirely sure. Either way, it was dangerous territory. Hurriedly banishing her naked form from his mind, he managed to compose himself quickly and allowed a chuckle to rumble low in his chest. He couldn't deny it. He was thoroughly enjoying her impertinent sass...
"Come now Georg!" Max suddenly cried with a jovial wave of his glass, entirely interrupting his fun, "You never did give us an answer! Tell me! Will you be granting our dear Elsa's romantic request or not!"
Much to his chagrin, Georg realised his little debate with the Fräulein, though intended to be private, had at some point garnered the attention of a broader audience. For the twelfth time that afternoon he reprimanded himself for being entirely too obvious - governesses were meant to be treated with cool and detached politeness, not indirect flirtation in the corner of occupied rooms... he really was acting the idiot.
"I don't much care for such silly notions..." he grumbled, pulling himself out of his chair and moving hastily away from the governess, his fingers twitching irritably. But the unmistakable snort of derision that came from behind him made him swivel back in the Fräulein's direction so suddenly that he almost lost his balance.
"What's so funny about that?!" He demanded before he could stop himself.
She merely blinked up at him innocently.
"You're doing it again, for Christ sake!" His conscience screamed inwardly, "Duelling with the governess in a spat akin to a lover's quarrel - and in the presence of your children, your best friend and your intended, no less!" He must've been completely out of his mind.
"I didn't say anything Captain..."
"You... sniggered!"
"Shut up you foolish man!" His conscious chastised again, "Why in God's name do you even care whether she sniggered!" But the warnings fell on deaf ears.
"I merely cleared my throat, sir..." was her saucy reply.
He took a deep breath through gritted teeth, "and why, may I ask, did you clear your throat?"
She gave a sheepish little shrug while trying to disguise her obvious amusement, "well if you insist, I just... entirely agree that mistletoe wouldn't exactly be your cup of tea, sir.." she bit her lip to hide her mirth, "love, romance and good luck - as you said, a silly notion.."
He stared at her blankly, watching the knowing smile tug at her lips once more and realising that she was teasing him yet again - though she was doing her best to hide it. So not only did she think him old, but she thought him unromantic too? Was that it? He grumbled unintelligibly in response and moved grumpily to the window, trying to ignore the fact that her barb had bothered him more than it should have. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him - but he was acting like a petulant child! To allow such behaviour to continue would be entirely ludicrous. The sooner he banished the distracting little governess from his thoughts, he decided, the better.
Clearing his head and gathering what little resolve he had left, he finally turned back to Max - only to discover that the impresario had grown bored of waiting for an answer to his question and was now thoroughly engrossed in a debate with Elsa once again - all talk of mistletoe seemingly forgotten.
"Brilliant... just brilliant," his conscience sneered at him sarcastically, as he turned back to the window and watched the snowflakes fall with a bitter scowl, "not only have you made yourself look a complete fool, but you've managed to neglect your guests for the entirety of the afternoon because you've been too busy indulging yourself with your governess!"
Well - at least he'd managed to dodge Elsa's mistletoe bullet..
"But the Fräulein called it a lovely tradition..." another, far more daring, voice taunted him salaciously from somewhere deep within, "and she thinks you're unromantic... perhaps you should prove her wrong..."
Before he had a chance to silence the ridiculous voice, he found himself wracking his brains for a florist in Salzburg that would sell the festive plant at such short notice..
He gave a violent shake of his head, abruptly dismissing the ludicrous idea and heaving another irritable sigh.
It was going to be a long Christmas.
A/N: I'm not sure whether to keep this as a one shot or continue so let me know your thoughts :)