When they arrived in Marseille the next day, both husband and wife forgot how tired the journey had made them as they both drank in the majesty of the town; Georg once again seeing his surroundings anew through Maria's eyes.

She however, did not notice Georg looking at her all; much less how he was looking at her. The Seine hadn't been nearly as amazing as this, and before that the only bodies of water Maria had seen were the lake by the villa and the small, laughing brook up on her mountain.

"It's so, so…" she couldn't even finish the sentence, so she started another: "Were you stationed here?"

"During the war?" he smiled at her. "No. My command was in the Adriatic. But I've been here a few times before. It's my favourite seaside town in France."

She inhaled the salty sea air, and looked over at Georg. She could see why her husband loved this so much. He was completely in his element.

Now he looked like a sea captain.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

They had lunch at a small café, looking out over the shining blue of the Mediterranean Sea. Maria's awe grew the longer she looked at it.

He told her they were going swimming, and Maria's desire to enter the water beat out her nerves. He bought her a bathing suit; her first bathing suit, and the first thing they'd bought for her since the beautiful golden-rod suit he'd bought her a couple weeks back. After she'd dressed and they were down on the beach, she shot off into the sea like a rocket, only to remember a few moments later that this was not the lake back home. But before she could move – either forward or backward – Georg had picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

She batted playfully at his back as he spun them both around, eventually landing them both in the water. A moment later she popped up, and both she and Georg laughed.

Georg relished every second of it. His regular morning swims in the lake were enjoyable, but there was something about the sea; it called to him in a way nothing else ever had. He was pleased to see Maria enjoying it as they continued to swim around together. When they at last emerged from the water, Georg laid his wife down on the soft sand and kissed her deeply. When he pulled back, his eyes told Maria exactly what he wanted.

"Here?" she asked, wide-eyed. "What if somebody sees us?"

"There's no one around, darling," he assured her.

Slowly, she nodded. Despite her nerves, she had come to enjoy doing something a little different during their intimate moments. And so, right there on the sand with only the sea and the sun in the sky watching, they became one.

That night, after he'd finished readying himself for bed, Georg, dressed in nothing but his robe, opened the bathroom door to find his wife lying on the bed. When she saw him she turned her head to look at him, smiled, and said one word:

"Hello."

Georg was momentarily speechless. There she lay, completely naked, so he was able to see every inch of her, and was reminded once again how beautiful his wife was. The fact that she wasn't dressed didn't really surprise him. Their nightclothes ended up tossed on the floor most nights. But she was lying on top of the sheets. For the entirety of their first week in Paris she had hidden under them whenever they weren't making love.

But as the honeymoon progressed she had gained confidence not only in the physical side of their love, but also her own body. Gone was his innocent, virginal bride. In her place lay a woman who had no reservations about displaying the body God had blessed her with.

He drank in the sight of her; all the way from her toes to her shoulders; finally resting on her beautiful face, with those blue, blue eyes and pink lips.

She was perfect. And she was his.

She smiled at him and by the time he'd reached the bed he had discarded his robe, and he fell into her waiting arms. They made love once more, and Georg's last coherent thought before he entered complete bliss was: 'How does she do it?'

"You were very bold tonight Baroness," Georg mused as they lay together afterwards. Maria made a face at her husband's comment, but didn't say anything about it.

"I suppose, just…after today, even though nobody saw us, I just…realised that I don't have anything to hide."

"No. You don't," agreed Georg. "You are beautiful."

"I know," she whispered, snuggling closer to her Captain. "Every time we make love you show me how beautiful I am."

Neither felt the need to pull the covers up as they drifted off to sleep.

Then the bad news came.

They hadn't been back from Marseille for even a week before the headlines bore the news that Chancellor Schuschnigg had yielded to the Nazis and now Austria was under their control.

They ordered breakfast, but Georg didn't touch his coffee. He was silent. Too silent. Almost catatonic. Not angry, not sad. He showed no emotion whatsoever.

"What do you want me to do?" Maria asked quietly. "How can I help?"

"I just – I need to –"

"Of course."

Knowing her husband needed to be alone, she returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

She didn't have a book to read; they hadn't brought any along, and she didn't dare pick up the newspaper. Irrespective of the horrendous news, she knew she wouldn't be able to understand it. Georg had taught her a little French, but none of that would help in this situation. Besides, she only knew how to say the words; she had no idea how they were spelled.

Things had changed since the wedding. In many ways, Maria felt like a different person. The Maria of today no longer cried out at everything that caught her interest, or ran around, desperate to get to her destination as quickly as possible.

But silence and inactivity still made her restless.

So she started to pack. She put all but a couple of dresses and suits into her bags, and her toiletries were quickly packed away in their cases, ready to be taken at a moment's notice.

She did the same for her husband, leaving only the barest of necessities in case they wouldn't be leaving immediately. After a while she saw him walk across the room and leave the suite. He didn't notice her.

When he returned and entered the bedroom his mouth opened slightly as he saw what she'd done.

"You're welcome," she whispered before he could say anything.

"The earliest tickets I could get are on Tuesday night," he said by way of an answer. His face didn't change as he looked at her and continued:

"I'm so, so, so –"

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry," she interrupted, her voice sharp.

"But –"

"But nothing Georg," she walked over to stand beside him. "You've given me more than I could've asked for these past five weeks. More than I could have possibly imagined. I don't want it to end either. But our family, our country, is more important."

"You don't deserve this though," he told her, his face forlorn; the most emotion he'd shown all day.

"And you do?" she shot back. "Nobody deserves this."

"You know what they'll ask me to do," he said. It wasn't a question. "You know what that will mean."

She nodded solemnly.

"I won't – can't – do it," he said resolutely. "But I'll be a traitor."

She kissed his cheek. "You can never be a traitor for doing what's right."

They still spent their nights in each other's arms, but, after that day, they barely made love. Often they just sat in silence, each seeking the other's comfort.

Maria had known Georg to be a silent, stoic man long before she married him. But now that there was no Austria anymore, his composure was crumbling just like his homeland. When he wasn't completely vulnerable before her eyes, he was silent and distant. But even then, the mask he'd always worn was gone.

She couldn't blame him. Despite his continued comments that she had changed everything – saved him – he had still lost so much. Her losses had come so early in her life that she didn't remember most of them.

They spent the entirety of Tuesday at the hotel, once more seeking silent comfort from each other. Everything was packed away and ready that morning, even though they wouldn't catch the train until that evening.

Night arrived, and as they left their suite, left their honeymoon behind for the last time, Maria paused.

She knew Georg could see it too. The differences. She was now more self-assured and more mature; older and wiser. Her outward appearance now matched the person she was inside; her fine clothes befit her statuses: wife, mother, Baroness.

And yet, she wasn't unrecognisable. Her vivacity was still there, her natural curiosity still present, her gentle kindness still visible.

But, in ways that couldn't really be explained, she had changed. A month ago, a girl had walked into this suite. Today, a woman walked out.

Wednesday morning, their train pulled into the station at Aigen. Flags emblazoned with the swastika hung everywhere they looked.

The sight made Maria uneasy, but Georg was furious, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint to keep from lashing out somehow. But somewhere in the back of his mind he felt guilty about the affect this would have on his wife, even though she insisted none of it mattered. She'd either interrupted or shot him down every time he'd attempted to apologise.

When they pulled up into the driveway they were both speechless, struck dumb at what they saw. The flags around town were insignificant compared to the giant one hanging over their front door: the flag of the Third Reich; an ugly black spider on display to anyone who walked by.

Georg couldn't stand it.

"Georg, please," begged Maria. Franz had disappeared inside with their luggage and they were alone. "I know how much you're against all of this, but try not to let it get you down too much. At least right now."

He let out a sigh. "If it were only that simple. This isn't just a flag." He grabbed the corner of the flag, but didn't pull it down. "It has happened. The Nazis could be looking to me to serve any day now. And the less time we have, the harder it will be for us to escape."

But he still marvelled at Maria's words. The world had turned upside down, but she could still see the positives in these darkest of time.

His nightmares had come true. He knew the Nazis were responsible, knew his wife felt the same way, knew time was running out for them to get out alive, while keeping their values intact; but he couldn't stop himself from scooping Maria up in his arms and carrying her across the threshold. Letting her down gently at the top of the stairs, he kissed her temple and whispered: "Welcome home, Baroness von Trapp."

Hello! I'm back. I hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry it took me a little longer to get this up than it has recently; I have been a bit preoccupied. I started my own YouTube channel, to talk about all things TSOM, Julie, and musicals in general. If you want to look it up, it's The Sound of Georgia.