A/N: so I took on board your lovely reviews and realised that I of course needed to wrap this up! (No Christmas pun intended!) So here's the final chapter. Sorry it's quite long. Just a note, the conversation between Maria and the Baroness in the bedroom doesn't take place in my story. The Elsa fan club will be happy to know I've painted her as an innocent party for once. Enjoy!


Whether it was for mere minutes or long hours that Georg remained hidden in the library, he wasn't sure - but he'd spent the majority of those ticking seconds wrestling simultaneously with his body's arousal and his mind's confusion. His first instinct had been to go haring after Maria, to catch up to her, wrap his arms around her, and beg her to listen to all the words his heart had left unsaid - even if it meant enduring the flapping tongues of the Salzburg elite after they witnessed the noble Captain Georg Ritter von Trapp frantically parting the crowd to pursue his stricken governess.

Propriety be damned! His mind shouted bitterly. So what if he tarnished his own reputation? Unbearable loss and empty grief had put things into harsh perspective for him years ago and he'd long since stopped caring about the complex and tedious intricacies of the aristocracy and the rules of social etiquette that it commanded. There was something about losing your first love and the mother of your children that made such monotony seem not only entirely irrelevant, but utterly ridiculous. Love was a sacred and beautiful thing, a blessing that once lost could tear a man apart. He should know, he'd experienced it first hand and all had seemed as good as lost. Until a young woman had stripped his mask bare, breathed life into his broken spirit and made him realise that the world around him could be vivid with colour and vibrancy once again. And he'd be damned if he was going to let his second chance at love slip through his white gloved fingers.

No, he didn't give a damn about his reputation. But he did care very much about Maria's. The only thing stopping him from doing exactly what he wanted and going marching after her was his desire to protect her. From the day she'd whirled through the front door she'd had to navigate the daunting labyrinth of his complicated world, endured sneering remarks from Franz, disapproving looks from his contemporaries, even disdain from him in the very beginning. No, he would not force her to endure the shameful assumptions and hurtful scorn that would undoubtedly be bestowed upon her if he were to expose them. The rumours would be bad enough when he eventually announced their betrothal - for that's exactly what he planned to do, if she would accept him. He longed for nothing more - and he would have to act cautiously, carefully, gently, discreetly - if he were to have any chance of making her his.

She may have welcomed his frantic kisses when they'd so desperately ravaged each other against the bookcase, but she had been acting entirely on impulse. Asking her to accept that they'd fallen in love would be a different matter entirely. It would mean asking her to acknowledge that her path in life was not what she had thought it was, that she was not meant to serve God's purpose. It would mean asking her to let go of the only life she'd ever known.

And it was for all of these reasons that he remained stood in his library, instead of tearing after the woman he longed to follow. To try and slip out into the hallway now would be too risky - especially after Maria had done the very same mere minutes ago. He could hear the majority of guests making their way back to the ballroom as the orchestra blossomed into another melody, but still he willed himself to wait, leaning back against the bookcase for some much needed support.

When finally the buzz of the chitchat beyond the door had subsided enough for him to feel safe, he shrugged back into his coat and chanced a quick glance in the mirror hanging over the mantelpiece. The man staring back at him made him freeze in his tracks. He hardly recognised himself - his hair was in disarray, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen, his Maria-Theresa cross crooked, a button or two coming undone at the waistcoat - and he gave a shudder as he remembered the touch of the woman who'd reduced him to such a state. He stood for a moment, transfixed as he gazed at his reflection. It had been a long time since he'd looked so carefree, so full of vigour, so unbuttoned...

Gathering his composure and what was left of his resolve, he took a deep breath and cracked open the library door just enough to assess the state of the hallway. Seeing nothing of consequence, save for one or two group's of people who were otherwise occupied, he hastily slunk out of the room and shut the door behind him with a resounding click.

Almost instantly, he let go of the breath he'd been holding, sighing with relief. It seemed by some miracle that he'd managed to get away with-

"Fancy a smooch my captain?"

Georg nearly jumped out of his skin, only to find that the voice in his ear belonged to none other than Max, who stood by his side as if out of nowhere, cackling gleefully with mischief.

"Jesus Max!" He growled dangerously, "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to sneak up on people?!"

The impresario gave a derisive snort, "The only thing my dear departed mother ever taught me, Georg, was how to enjoy a good party!" He chirped, raising his champagne glass and taking a hearty swig, smacking his lips appreciatively, "and I'm eternally grateful to her for it!"

"Hmm," Georg bristled, entirely unamused, "unless the jokes improve Max I'll be taking back my invitation."

"You didn't invite me to your party!" The impresario scoffed, "I invited myself!"

"Naturally.."

"And I think my mistletoe idea has gone down a charm amongst the guests, wouldn't you say?" The lodger beamed with pride, rocking back triumphantly on his heels.

"Erm, your mistletoe idea?" Georg drawled sarcastically.

"But of course!" Max was indignant, "I was the one who bought it after all, wasn't I?"

Georg rolled his eyes, grabbing a much needed glass of champagne from a passing tray, "well I'm sorry you went to all the trouble Max - but I'm afraid you're not really my type."

"No, I should think not," Max chuckled nonchalantly, "for one thing, I'm not wearing a wimple!"

Georg immediately began choking on his mouthful of champagne and Max, entirely unfazed by his friend's violent reaction, proceeded to thump him on the back, fixing a group of nearby ladies with an unperturbed smile.

"Bubbles went down the wrong way!" He explained loudly to the alarmed gaggle of elderly women, and Georg could do nothing but offer them an apologetic smile while he coughed and spluttered ungraciously.

"My my Georg..." the impresario chuckled wickedly under his breath, waving politely to a passing Count, "was your little library interlude so good that she has you struggling for air? How positively delicious!"

"I don't know what you're talk-"

"Your uh.. coat is inside out."

With an undignified little yelp, Georg hurriedly corrected the fatal mistake, suddenly grateful that their backs were still to the wall - for it seemed that no one else milling around the hallway had noticed the wardrobe malfunction. Much to Georg's irritation, Max could hardly contain his glee.

"The real question is," the impresario drawled, "which garment of hers did you remove?"

"That's quite enough Max!" Georg gritted, "how did you-?"

"I can be surprisingly perceptive when I'm keeping an eye on my potential protégées, Georg - with thieves like Sasha Petrie lurking about, one can never be too careful!" Max breezed matter-of-factly, his eyes constantly scanning the room for any unwanted attention, "After the Fraulein still hadn't come down to join the party I began to worry and went looking for her - only to witness her slipping out of the library undetected. At first I was baffled, but I shrugged it off - she's never quite where she's supposed to be after all!" He guffawed dangerously, "But then who should I happen to see sneaking from the very same room not ten minutes later with his tail between his legs? Our gracious host no less!" He gasped with mock outrage, "Imagine my surprise..."

"It's.. it's not what it looks like.." Georg stammered, suddenly feeling uncomfortably flustered.

"Oh-ho, I think it most certainly is!" Max grinned, "Who'd have thought that Captain Georg Ritter Von Trapp, decorated naval hero and experienced baron, could blush as deeply as the little Fraulein herself? I'm afraid it entirely gives you away, my friend. Now tell me," he leaned closer, his face still the perfect epitome of aristocratic sophistication to any passing witnesses, "is it Elsa for starters and Maria for dessert? Or the other way around?"

Georg flinched, his fists balling, "I plan to marry her if you must know!"

He'd wanted to shock his friend into silence with his controversial declaration but the impresario seemed entirely unruffled, studying his nails with an air of superior indifference.

"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify which of your two playmates you're referring to, Georg," he smirked unforgivingly.

He felt his jaw clench with distaste, "Maria of course!" he hissed.

In a flash, all the playful mischief was gone from Max's face and he turned to fix his friend with such a dangerously stony glare that Georg felt an unexpected chill run down his spine.

"Then pull your blasted act together and fix this damned mess you've created!" The impresario snapped sternly, "before you ruin two innocent women's lives!"

And with that he strode away defiantly, leaving Georg to stare after him agape, feeling every bit the chastised school boy. He'd never seen Max so serious but the brutal sting of shame he felt reminded him that he deserved far worse than the dressing down he'd just received.

"Georg darling, there you are!"

Oh God.

"Elsa." He breathed, turning to face the approaching baroness with a forced smile.

"They're about to serve the entrees," she trilled, entirely too wrapped up in her duties as hostess to pay any attention to his discomfort, "would you care to escort me?"

She offered him her gloved arm and frowned slightly when he hesitated.

Max was right.. he had to do this now.

"Elsa... " he began, but she interrupted instantly.

"Come now Georg!" She pressed with an impatient wave of her silken hand, "it would not do well for the host and hostess to be late to their own dinner now would it!"

He sighed, taking her arm reluctantly as his heart sank.


He'd barely touched his food throughout the entire meal and though he had been surrounded by almost one hundred guests, he had felt entirely alone. Despite being Max's dinner guest, Maria had failed to make an appearance for the meal and Georg was beginning to worry. At first, he assumed she was running late, as she so often was - but each course had come and gone, until he had to accept that she was most likely hiding away in her bedroom, scared and confused. The very thought broke his heart.

Finally a few hours later, the majority of guests were beginning to take their leave as the party started drawing to a close. Only a few ladies and gentleman remained for cigars and drinks in the drawing room, and so he excused himself quietly, slipping through the door and making his way towards the stairs that led to Maria's bedroom. He knew it was inappropriate but he just couldn't help himself - he needed to see her and reassure her that everything would be okay. He'd left her alone long enough.

He was halfway up the staircase before a quiet voice from behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"How long?"

He knew before he'd even turned around that it was Elsa - and sure enough there she was, standing elegant as a painting in the centre of the entranceway, looking serene and sophisticated as ever, her hands clasped calmly in front of her and her knowing eyes boring into him with melancholy acceptance.

He stared at her mutely, his heart in his mouth.

"How long have you been in love with the governess, Georg darling?" She clarified calmly, as though her question was of no greater consequence than what he'd had for lunch.

Had it been so startlingly obvious to everyone but himself? He wondered. He wanted the ground to swallow him up - anything to prevent him from having to acknowledge the hurt in her eyes. This woman had helped him through some of the most difficult days of his life, had wrenched the bottle from his hand when he'd drank himself into oblivion, had dragged him back into the welcome bustle of the aristocratic social scene when he'd been too broken to leave his bed. Elsa had brought some meaning back into his ever darkening world. But in the end, it hadn't quite been enough. And somehow she had been rendered the victim in all of this. It seemed that love, no matter how beautiful and unexpected, didn't come without sacrifice.

It was time to face the music. Time to take responsibility for the mess he'd created. He at least owed Elsa that much.

Enough is enough, old man, his conscience demanded.

"Elsa," he sighed softly, his voice laced with the remorse he felt as their eyes locked, "I'm so sorry," he gave a slow shake of his head, trying to find the words, "It's no use... you and I... I've been dishonest, to both of us. And utterly unfair to you," he took a step closer to her, "when two people-"

"No don't," she simpered breathlessly, halting his descent, "Don't say another word, please. You see, there are other things I've been thinking of, besides the party I mean," her eyes fell to the marble floor as she attempted to gather her composure. His Elsa had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You're much too independent. And I need someone who needs me desperately," she offered a watery smile while still looking every bit the epitome of aristocratic perfection in her golden dress, "or at least needs my money desperately!"

She was admitting defeat, he knew. She was stepping aside graciously to allow him a chance at true happiness, and the realisation made his chest ache with gratitude and remorse.

"I've enjoyed every moment we've had together and I do thank you for that," their eyes met again and he offered her the smallest of compassionate smiles, a silent acknowledgment that he would forever be in her debt for her unexpected act of kindness.

"Now, if you'll forgive me, I'm going to retire for the evening. But in the morning I shall pack my little bags and return to Vienna where I belong."

Her final smile was fleeting but genuine. How he would ever repay her he wasn't sure.

"Auf Wiedersehen, darling."

She turned on her heels and sashayed out of sight, leaving him with a heavy heart for having caused her such pain. But it had been a necessary evil, a selfish twist of fate that brought him one step closer to achieving his own happiness.

"Auf Widersehen, Elsa," he whispered.


It couldn't possibly be what he feared, surely he had to be mistaken. But there was no fooling himself this time. Maria was gone. Her room was empty. Her bags were missing. Her wardrobe was bear. She was gone.

Wrought with panic, Georg tore the entire upper floor apart looking for her. He ran through the grounds, to the gazebo, down to the lake - no longer caring who might witness his frantic behaviour. He tried the stables, he tried the boathouse, he tried the orchard, panting for breath and ruining his tuxedo in the exertion - but she was nowhere to be found.

Throughout his lifetime, he'd suffered terrible atrocities under fire, he'd watched his comrades take their last breaths, had said goodbye to the mother of his children - but never, in all his worldly experiences could he remember ever feeling so defeated. It was just that he had come so close - he'd held Maria in his arms, had experienced the profound joy and exhilaration of kissing her, had felt the delicate caress of her fingertips - only to have her slip from his embrace out of fear and confusion.

But the worst part was knowing deep down that he was loved by her in return - only she was too terrified to acknowledge it. She was so humble that she wouldn't have considered for one minute that he would want her for any other reason than physical gratification. Stupidly, he'd gotten so carried away with her body pressed up against his that he'd failed to tell her the simple fact that he loved her. And so she had fled.

Deflated and at a loss for where else to search, he made his way back to the house - only to discover an envelope perched against one of the vases underneath a sprig of mistletoe that hung from the mirror above it. Immediately he knew it was from Maria and his heart fluttered as he wondered whether she'd picked that particular place especially.

Tearing the letter open hurriedly, grateful that his remaining guests were tucked away in the drawing room, his eyes scanned the contents and he felt his stomach churn. It contained nothing but a hurried goodbye to the children and three words scribbled at the bottom that sent a chill down his spine.

"I'm sorry Captain."

The words echoed around in his head like loose stones. But if there was one thing that Georg von Trapp refused to do, it was admit defeat. Almost instantly his military sixth sense began to kick in - the very same gut instinct that had resulted in a cabinet full of honorary medals from the Emperor himself. If he knew Maria like he thought he did, she wouldn't have gone to the abbey... not after what had come to pass between them.

Pacing rapidly back and forth and muttering to himself, he counted off on his fingers the many places she had gone with the children during her time at the villa. There was Residenzplatz, the castle, the Untersburg, Hellbrunn Palace, the Mirabell Gardens...

He halted in his tracks. The gardens.

The Salzburg Christmas market was right outside the palace on Mirabellplatz! Would she be there, he wondered, her mind swimming with forbidden thoughts of the mistletoe she'd bought there with Liesl not two weeks ago?

There was only one way to find out.


"Hallo.." he cooed softly, careful not to startle her - but she jumped anyway, launching to her feet from her perched position on the steps that sat below the palace.

"I thought I just might find you here.."

She stilled, her face contorted with anguish once again as she stared down to the bottom of the stone stairway where he stood humbly - he the undeserving mortal and she his goddess. Nightfall meant that the gardens were shrouded in darkness, the only light the pale glow of the moon and the beams from the street lamps surrounding the walled perimeter of the Mirabell Gardens. Nevertheless it was just enough to make her look like an angel.

Her timid voice, rich with rising panic, broke through the night's peaceful silence, "How.. how did you-"

"For someone so wonderfully unpredictable, you can be surprisingly transparent, if one only knows you well enough.. " he smiled warmly, a playful lilt to his voice that he hoped masked the turmoil he felt.

She said nothing, eyeing him wearily, poised like a gazelle as though ready to flee again.

"Of course I had to scale a wall or two to get in, since the gardens were locked hours ago," he continued, "but I suspected such obstacles posed little problem for my governess.."

The silence hung thick between them as they simply stared at each other, each awaiting the opponent's next move, and despite the chill of the winter night he could feel his cheeks burn as he frantically searched for the words he wanted to say. He watched patiently, trying to decipher her reaction to his unexpected presence as their staring contest continued - only to discover that her eyes had darkened with sadness and a glint of something dangerous that he'd seen before. The combination made his cool facade come crumbling down.

"Why did you run away from me?" He blurted suddenly, the playful lilt having disappeared as his voice cracked.

She looked aghast by his question, wringing her hands continuously and shifting from foot to foot under his scrutiny, though her eyes remained fixed bravely on his, "oohh please don't ask me..."she rasped, her shaking voice betraying the fear she clearly felt.

"Why not?" He pressed innocently, taking a step closer, "because you are afraid of what you feel?"

He hadn't meant for the question to sound accusatory but his words clearly hit a sore spot for she suddenly flew into a pace along the steps, throwing her hands up in the air in confusion, "Oh I don't know! I don't know! I.. you.. you just make me feel such wicked things! I..."

"They are not wicked," he confirmed softly, "not with the way I feel about you.."

But she seemed not to have heard him, as her worrisome pacing continued.

"The only thing I am sure of is that I cannot be a nun, not with the things I have come to feel.." she breathed with anguish, "but I am still a woman of God and neither can I be your.. your... " she closed her eyes as though the word pained her, "as much as I may long to feel you close, I cannot do it. I cannot give myself to you... not like that."

He simply looked at her pensively for a moment, hands resting on his hips and a slight frown creasing his brow as he contemplated his next move. So he'd been right - she thought she was worthy of nothing more than a sordid affair - and the realisation made him suddenly angry. Not at her, but at the restrictions of his complicated world. Did she not know what a treasure she was? Was she oblivious to the richness she had brought to his life?

Suddenly she gave an involuntary shiver as a particularly cold winter breeze whipped past them and he realised with horror that she was wearing only her burlap jacket - the one he'd entirely despised upon her arrival. Deciding that ensuring her wellbeing was well worth the risk of having her potentially cower from his sudden proximity, he shrugged out of his coat tails for the second time that evening and hurried up the steps to her side. She looked somewhat alarmed but much to his delight she accepted his warm gesture as he wrapped the coat around her and settled her into a sitting position beside him on the steps. The tense silence stretched on and she failed to meet his gaze, so instead he fixed his eyes to the gardens below, taking a deep breath and willing himself to speak.

"I could take you as my mistress, Maria, if you permitted such a thing," he responded calmly, his voice quiet, "And I would keep you at a chilly distance in front of the watchful eyes of my children and contemporaries, only to slip into your bed after nightfall. I would teach you all the ways we could take comfort in one another, would worship your body with my own behind closed doors, would muffle your cries of ecstasy with my lips."

His intention had been to shock her and it worked, for the colour began to rise in her cheeks and she gave a twisted little moan that set his heart to racing, giving him the courage to surge bravely on.

"The languid time between dusk and dawn would be spent learning every freckle, every curve, every tender part of your body until we were both brought to the heights of unearthly euphoria."

He was vaguely aware that his voice had grown husky in his throat, betraying what his vivid imaginings were doing to his body. But still he pushed on, his eyes glued to the gardens surrounding them.

"I would whisk you away to secret and lavish locations to have you all to myself for long days at a time, spoiling you with fine cuisine and champagne. For many a woman it would seem a tempting offer for an easy and luxurious life..."

He gave pause before turning to face her, "But you are right Maria," he whispered with eyes burning ferociously, "you are not meant to be my mistress. I believe God has a different plan for us..."

She merely stared at him with eyes like saucers. And perhaps it was the beauty of the gardens surrounding them, or the shocking intimacies he had so vividly described, or the unmistakable longing he saw churning in her irises when their eyes finally locked - but suddenly the night air was thick with the dangerous hum of desire. He willed himself to keep a safe distance but the urge to wrap her in a heated embrace, to lose himself in her body, to taste and touch and kiss her until he could forget their turmoil, was almost too much to bear.

And within seconds they were in each other's arms once again, entangled in a searing kiss that confirmed just how deeply his words had affected them both. His entire body burned instantly and he couldn't contain the heady groan that escaped him when her sweet innocent tongue licked gently at his mouth, her lips parting to his insistent administrations until they were both breathless with need. Succumbing to his body's urges, he pulled her closer, gripping her by the waist until her every curve was his to claim. Half mad with lust, his hands moved of their own accord as they had done in the library - only this time they did not hesitate to roam wherever she silently demanded. His pulse racing and his frantic behaviour defying all logic, his fingertips danced down the exposed skin of her neck, down her collarbone, lower - her ragged pants against his lips leaving him dizzy.

No, he thought fleetingly as she whimpered into his mouth, he would never be satisfied with her only as his mistress - but oh what a mistress she would make! With the heady combination of her startling innocence, eager willingness and passionate disposition, she would bring him to his knees with a click of her fingers, he knew - and the thought left him altogether exhilarated and unbearably aroused.

But it would never be enough. Not for him. And not for her either. She was worth so much more than that.

Absentmindedly and quite without warning, her gentile hand gripped at his upper thigh to steady her against the sudden dizziness she evidently felt - and the effect on his body was both instant and shocking. He felt himself stiffen, the warmth of her hand spreading from their source all the way to his toes, setting him on fire. They had allowed themselves to get carried away in their passion once again and for the second time that night he reasoned with himself that a few moments more would do no harm - a few more forbidden caresses by her hand mere inches from where his body so boldly betrayed his thoughts - and then he would restore order.

But she beat him to it, suddenly pulling away from his embrace with a face wrought with anxiety, turning listlessly away from him, "ohh but the Baroness-"

"Is leaving for Vienna in the morning," he gasped as his chest rose and fell, "We've parted ways."

She whirled to face him once again, looking at him as though he'd sprouted a second head.

"But... but you were going to marry her!"

"I made no such promise," he retorted, frowning slightly, "But I do plan to."

Suddenly she looked crestfallen, her voice barely above a whisper, "You do?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I plan to make such a vow this very night in fact. But not to her, you see.."

Suddenly struggling to breathe again, he reached out to take one of the hands she was twisting in her lap, encasing it in both of his and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"Look at me.." he whispered, and immediately she complied, her eyes blown wide for him.

"Maria," he ghosted his fingertips down her satin cheek, "I vow to love you, to cherish you and support you... to provide for you for the rest of our days. I vow to stay by your side through thick and thin, to raise our children together, to grow old together - if you will only accept my hand and acknowledge that you are worthy of it. You must know that I yearn for nothing more."

If the look she'd given him before was one of incredulity, it was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now, her mouth agape and her reply choking from her throat.

"Men like you don't marry girls like me!" She cried.

"Which is why the majority of men like me are miserable, sweetheart," he smiled sadly, "As was I, until you came along and sat on that ridiculous pine cone. I can assure you I haven't had a moments peace since."

"But.. " she repeated on a splutter, "but men like you-"

"Men like me do whatever they damn well please," He chuckled, "that is, unless vivacious little Frauleins come charging in and give them a piece of their mind!" He fixed her with a mischievous smile before his face once again became grave, "But I don't just want a piece of your mind, Maria... and neither do I just want your body. I want all of you - mind, body and soul, if you'll permit me. It may make me a selfish man but I won't be able to live with any less. I want to share our love openly and without shame. Because I do love you, my darling - I may have been wrong about many things over the years, but this I know."

He watched her cautiously after laying his heart bare, witnessing the myriad of emotions playing out on her face. Shock, confusion, hope, curiosity, longing.. and for long painful seconds it seemed as though she was never going to acknowledge the words he'd said, but simply stare at him dumbstruck for all eternity, until he felt like shrinking away into the hedges.

He felt his heart sink, wishing he could read her fascinating mind - but he was at a loss. If she doubted him - or worse still, if she doubted herself - there would be no hope for them.

But much to his relief and overwhelming joy, the turmoil in her face eventually gave way to an earnest and unrepressed adoration that made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years - and his heart kickstarted like a drum in his chest when she dared to take his face gently in her hands, pressing a beautiful kiss to his lips that spoke of the promise they were making to one another. And he realised then that no words needed to be said, for the devotion behind her caress told him all he needed to know.

Overcome with tenderness he pulled her firmly into his embrace, giving her everything he had in the way his mouth worked in harmony with hers, in the way he peppered frantic kisses across her face, behind her ear, to the skin of her throat - until the heat of her gentle pants swirled into the cold air around them and the blood roared in his ears.

As she pulled away breathlessly, allowing their thundering heartbeats a chance to calm, he saw her eyes dancing with a newfound triumph, a surety, a confidence that hadn't been there before, "you know.. " she laughed softly, still breathless, "It was the first time you blew that silly whistle! That's when I knew.."

He couldn't help the beaming smile that etched across his face.

"Knew what, sweetheart?" He already knew the answer of course, but she was yet to say the words aloud - and oh how he longed to hear them.

"That... " she faltered only for a moment, the warmth of her deep blue eyes fixed on his, "that I love you too," she smiled breathlessly, "Because I do. I love you, my captain."


"Mother!" Gretl cried with triumph, thrusting a chubby finger towards a stall of festive puppets that hung on fine strings a few feet away, "oh can we get some? Please please please!"

And that's all it took for the other little ones to pipe up in excitement, their voices clashing simultaneously as each of them pleaded at once.

Georg chuckled to himself as his wife of ten months threw him an exasperated look, though a glint of amusement was still evident in her eye. Suddenly he was grateful that the Mirabellplatz Christmas market was bustling with people this year, for it meant that he could slip mischievously behind a passing crowd and feign a fascinated interest in one of the nearby wax candle stalls - a clever ploy to avoid his children's imminent tirade.

But Maria saw right through him.

"You'll have to ask your father," she retorted, shooting him a triumphant smirk - and almost immediately the children were running to him and wrapping themselves around his legs, begging him to buy the darned puppets for them.

Attempting to disguise his amusement, but failing miserably, he crouched down to their level and gave Gretl a little tap on the nose.

"Now why would you want these puppets, my darlings?" He cooed, "We have an entire puppet show at home, remember?"

He remembered all right - the day he'd sang to the woman in blue...it had been the first day of the rest of his life.

Gretl's face glowed with determination, "But these puppets have sparkly-"

But alas he would never find out which particular parts of the puppets were sparkly, because he and Gretl were suddenly interrupted by an ear-splitting squeal of delight that shattered his eardrums. He stood up ramrod straight in alarm, turning in sheer bewilderment to discover that the insufferable sound had come from his eldest daughter.

She was clapping gleefully and bouncing up on down on her feet, looking every bit as childish as Gretl as she pointed excitedly to another stall only a few feet away.

"Oh my goodness, look!" She gushed, her bright blue eyes shimmering, "mistletoe!"

The colour drained from Georg's face. Oh God no - not more blasted mistletoe...

"Oh, how wonderful!" Maria trilled in reply, though the devilishly knowing look she shot her husband was one of pure fire, her eyebrow raised in mischief.

He gulped, suddenly feeling hot under the collar.

It was going to be a long Christmas.


A/N: Apologies for the length of this chapter, it ran away with me a little bit - but if you can't write pure fluff at this time of year when can you ey! Merry Christmas all and thank you again for all your wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoyed the story, as always I love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again to mucwriter for organising the advent calendar!