Chapter 2:

Initiation

"Hurry up, Von Trapp!"

As the two young men bolted across the rocky coastline, the fair-haired one yelled to his friend to catch up with his own enthusiastic pace.

The dark haired youth watched as the lanky blond ahead of him scrambled to climb the jagged rocks and hop up onto the grassy cliff above.

Georg's pace slowed as he reached the base of the cliff. His hesitation was not out of uncertainty, but out of regret. He was hopelessly bound to the seashore. A silent protest rose within him as he lifted his feet from the sand and began to climb strategically up the rocks.

He regained his balance on more than a few occasions, learning quickly that he did not possess his friend's nimble nature. Arthur was considerably lighter, and his long, gangly limbs made his ascent resemble that of a spider monkey up a tree.

Georg swore softly as he grazed the sole of his foot against a particularly sharp rock. He did not need to look down; he was used to leaving behind a trail of blood. He winced as he found his footing on the last few boulders and hoisted himself up onto level ground.
Falling back onto the grass, he turned his foot over to examine the small cut, brushing out the dirt and dust that had collected there.

"Damn, I forgot my watch." Arthur muttered as he frantically struggled to stuff his legs back into his boots. "We're late, no doubts."

Georg glanced back at the sprawling hotel a good distance behind them. With an agitated grunt, he forcefully pulled his own boots over his feet and brushed the sand and grass from his clothes.

"Not quite the attire we want to be seen in this afternoon, eh, boys?" A bullish voice boomed from above them.

Both heads whipped up to regard their commanding officer where he stood, hands behind his back. Georg stood immediately at attention, as Arthur leapt from the ground just as efficiently, his blond hair bearing a comical resemblance to that of a ruffled yellow sheepdog. Georg winced at his appearance and secretly hoped his own was not as distressed.

"No sir." Georg accentuated humbly. He could feel the cut on his foot burning inside his boot, but he forced his face to remain stiff in the presence of his commander.

The emotionless, leathery face beneath thinning white hair was not a sight unfamiliar.
"You'd do well to make yourselves look the least bit presentable for the ceremony..."

The angry eyes of the elder man shifted to the other. "Get your ass up to your room, Greimler!" He barked in the face of the tousled blond boy.

"My apologies, sir!" Arthur pronounced, rightly flustered. He took off in the direction of the hotel, without a single glimpse back.

The man's dominant brown gaze traveled the length of Georg's body and stopped to stare him squarely in the eyes.

"You've come a long way as an officer, von Trapp. We wouldn't want to start off being a disappointment now, would we?"

Georg swallowed under the scrutiny and stood up straighter, grinding his teeth together to ignore the painful cut, now throbbing under the weight of his body. "No sir," he repeated quietly, keeping his eyes trained on those before him.

"Good man," The voice dropped in potency as he felt a hearty thump on his back. Georg could never manage to understand why his commander discreetly favored him above the other men in his crew.

"Don't be late." The man added gruffly as he turned to head back up the hill.

"Yes, Captain."
...

Georg leaned lazily against the marble pillar as he watched one stuffy member of high society after another stroll smartly down the grand staircase. Everyone who had wanted to talk to him had been given the chance to, and had exceeded expectations in the department of chewing his ear off. A man with such restless blood belonged not in a sea of people, but a sea of crashing green waves.

Not much earlier, he had been named lieutenant at the ranking ceremony. He had watched, with some shadow of envy, a select few of his commanding officers as they were decorated for their commendable achievements.

Someday, he promised himself, he would be more adorned than all of them. Somehow he would make his way up that daunting ladder. Somehow...he would need to put the reigns on his patience, if he had any left.

"I see someone is enjoying himself thoroughly." Arthur's amused voice came from beside him. Georg turned his head to see his friend's heavily dimpled smile widen as he handed him a glass of champagne.

"Hmph," He muttered a nonverbal response as he gratefully accepted the drink offered to him.

Arthur moved to lean against the opposite side of the pillar, swirling his own glass absently as he watched the chattering people mingle in the heart of the spacious ballroom.

"Congratulations by the way," he casually directed toward Georg, who gave a small smirk in reply. "As long as you keep making guys like me look bad, I've got no excuses."

"We're not all that different, Greimler...I just happen to have ambitions," he said loosely, studying the comforting pink liquid as it sparkled and bubbled in the thin flute.

"Right," Arthur's good-natured scoff met his ears as the orchestra started to play a simple waltz. "They just keep pouring in," he commented tiredly.

Georg's gaze drifted back to the staircase where even more impeccably dressed guests were congregating. A figure entered his field of vision from the top of the stairs, suddenly impeding his ability to roll his eyes at the scene.

A young woman, dressed in a pure, dove white gown that draped freely about her slim figure, her glossy brown hair the color of rusty sienna coiffed elegantly atop her head.

She made her way easily down the steps, with grace that would shame a swan gliding over water. With each step she descended, the material of her dress sparkled subtly. She held her head high, without so much as a glance to her feet; her posture was straight as an arrow, but not stiff, as many women tended to look. The people surrounding her seemed to part magically in her presence. In the few precious moments he watched her, his hearing was muffled as though he were submerged in water. She stopped at the foot of the staircase and surveyed the room contentedly, with a ponderous smile on her exquisite face. Georg found the sight enchanting. His eyes were momentarily incapable of moving away from her.

"Now that's what I've been waiting for." Arthur maundered as a line of servers carrying large silver trays entered from the kitchen.

Georg's wistful blue eyes drifted away rather drunkenly at the interruption, and he briefly watched the blond head of his friend recede into the crowd.

He felt his heart start to pound in a sudden, excited sort of panic as he was left alone.

Turning his head eagerly back in the direction of the stairs, his throat constricted as he saw that the beautiful woman had vanished. Something of a mysteriously delicious sinking sensation filled him as he desperately scanned the room for her figure.

Everything from relief to hysteria rushed through him, pressuring his senses keen with awareness.

"Can I refill that for you, sir?" An indifferent male voice asked him, shaking him out of his frenzied reverie.

He regarded the impassive façade of a suited server carrying a bottle of champagne and answered in a tone somewhat reminiscent of a child being caught doing something naughty, "Uhh, oh! Yes, please - just a bit."

He held his glass up as the man poured a generous amount into the flute. With some embarrassment, he realized his hand was shaking, if ever so slightly. Whatever was coming over him, he did not like it one bit...and yet, he found himself savoring it.

The man departed after he had filled the glass nearly past the rim. Georg winced down at the fizzing drink as he caught the enticing aroma of the alcohol; it was both the last and the first thing he needed at a time like this...

She was here...she was somewhere. She had to be...

"I presume you've put those new gloves to good use, Lieutenant."

He veered around at the stirring sound of a sweet feminine voice. A gentle sizzle of shock flew through his body as his eyes settled on the breathtaking beauty he had earlier admired from afar.

It was not more than a second before his mouth fell open in sudden understanding. This was the woman he had seen at the shop in Gateshead only months ago.

Now that she was up close, her diamond-like eyes gave her identity away. He most likely never would have recognized her as the mysterious, homely young girl from his memory. But now that she was before him again, looking the way she did...

He cleared his throat and replied with practiced smoothness, "Indeed I have, Fraulein. The proof lies in the sorry fact that they are now expertly torn again, even worse than the pair they replaced."

She laughed - a delightful, melodic sound. That sound he had tried fruitlessly to summon from memory not long after hearing it for the first time. He smiled in rare sincerity; just the simple sound of her laughter was so utterly satisfying.

She gave a prompt flourish of her feathered lavender fan - a mundane act being repeated by every other woman around him - but somehow, when done with the light wave of her slender hand, it fixated him with fascination.
"My father says he's never seen someone so young scale the ranks quite so swiftly before," she remarked with a notable tinge of impression, her bewitching little smile promptly fixing itself across her lips.

His restless eyes were instinctively drawn to her mouth at that moment. He had not remembered her lips being quite so shapely...or so full. Had it somehow conveniently escaped him before?
He shrugged - the gesture meant to both disguise his distraction and portray an expression of modesty. "I owe it to my passion, I suppose," he admitted, unable to diagnose the dazzled look in her own eyes as she regarded him, "I'm one of the few men in the fleet who actually enjoys being out on the sea, facing mortal danger every other hour."

Her smile grew as he spoke, revealing a flawless row of small, snow-white teeth. "Yes...you strike me as that sort of man," she noted eloquently, cocking her head slightly as she slyly considered his façade from the chest up.

He felt something within his heart swell luxuriously under her crystal clear stare. When he spoke in response, his voice had deepened involuntarily, "You strike me as well, Fraulein, but in an entirely different way."

It wasn't what he had meant to say... in other words, it was exactly what he had meant to say, which was why it should have remained unsaid. But the words had emerged helplessly from him before he could realize he was speaking his thoughts far too soon.

She lifted her delicate eyebrows in a charming expression of surprise. Her voice was slightly flustered, but in a consistently elegant fashion, "I do, then, do I, sir?" She brought her fan up to rest against her throat almost protectively as she studied him with a mild smirk on her face, "In what way, may I ask?"

He leaned his shoulder nonchalantly against the pillar again as he spoke, "Perhaps that wasn't the proper way of putting it. You see - you strike me is all." There was no taking it back now, he might as well embellish it.

She was taking it just as he would have her do. "Well, I'm flattered, Lieutenant," She brushed a fine wisp of hair behind her ear as a light blush dressed her cheeks. Her eyes looked up at him coyly from beneath her defined lashes and she added softly, "However...that which you speak of is not in an entirely different way..."

He became conscious of her implication and his pulse snapped to life. She was flirting with him.

He glanced to both sides to make sure that they were being watched. When a sufficient number of eyes appeared to be gazing in their general direction, he stood up to his full height and signaled for the man carrying the champagne tray. Picking up a glass, he held it within her reach and she accepted it with a look of mirth in its utmost purity.

"Shall we... Agathe?" He murmured her name for the first time, offering her his arm. She slipped her arm daintily through his and followed his lead out onto the veranda.