and when I was shipwrecked

i thought of you

in the cracks of light

i dreamed of you


The days that Georg spent in Vienna blurred together.

That's what he liked about Vienna – there were always activities to keeps him occupied. There was always company to hold his attention. For several blissful days, Georg hadn't found himself thinking too much about everything he had left back in Aigen.

Yes, the salacious gossip and trivial conversation that came with keeping the company of active socialites was not of much interest to him, but he found that it was preferable to the alternative. The life he led in Vienna – by Elsa's side – kept him engaged and active. He found little to no time to think about the demons that haunted him in the shadows.

There was always a luncheon to attend, a party to make an appearance at, or a hungover Max to torture. It was what he loved about the life in Vienna – there was always something to keep his mind occupied. Whether or not that something kept his mind stimulated didn't seem to matter.

It was easy to lose track of time in Vienna. It was easy to forget that he had responsibilities. It was easy to forget that he had a whole other life. Days had begun to turn into weeks – weeks in which Georg drank and socialized and firmly placed that stoic, aristocratic mask upon his face in order to forget for a little while. It was easy with Elsa and Max to forget the pain and heartache for a little while.

It was the nights that were the hardest. As hard as he tried, and as exhausted as he often was after faking smiles and feigning interest in trivial gossip, he would find himself lying awake at night thinking about everything he so insistently repressed in the daytime.

He thought of Agathe, of the children, of the country he knew and loved slowly slipping from his grasp, of the way his heart seemed to be missing a beat – as if he were only half alive, letting his life pass him by. It was disconcerting to say the least. He tried so hard to forget. He didn't want to think about the way that he had lost his navy, and how his country seemed to be disappearing before his very eyes. He didn't want to think about the way he abandoned his children. He didn't want to think about the way his chest ached when he pictured Agathe's face. He didn't want to think about the way he had become truly and utterly a man lost in the sea of his own misery.

And he certainly didn't want to be thinking about her.

She was the latest development in his midnight musings, and it was entirely unknown to him as to why. The first few days that he had been in Vienna, it had been easy enough to simply forget the young woman's new role in his children's life. It was easy enough to forget the way she had infuriated him and intrigued him all at the same time.

It wasn't until several days into his stay in Vienna that her image had crossed his mind, flooding his veins with a sense of dread.

I wonder what she's done with my children.

It had been mostly bitter musings over what sorts of rules she was breaking and silent prayers that she had taken into heed his warning tone before he left. Before he could get himself worked up with rage at what she might potentially be doing with his children, he would reason with himself. Surely, the girl had to have understood after their last conversation that he was their father and that he made the rules. Surely, she wouldn't be doing anything ridiculous with his children.

Perhaps she had changed her mindset. Perhaps she had it within her to take an order. Or perhaps she was breaking every rule that he had laid out for her. The children were running wild, while she simply sat back and let them. The thought began to fill his veins with a scorching heat. If she even thought for a second that she could-

"Georg, you really are a downer this evening. Why, it's not even half past ten and you already look defeated," Max's voice pulled Georg from his thoughts. He looked up from the carpet he had been glaring at to consider his friend. Max watched him with bored curiosity, while to his left, Elsa eyed him with careful concern.

Dammit, he muttered internally. He had been doing it again. He shook his head twice, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of the governess's potential insubordination.

"I've developed a bit of a headache this evening," Georg replied evenly, setting his glass of champagne down on the table next to him as he tried to regain his composure. This had only been one of several times in the last three days that he had found his mind taking him back to his home in Aigen, and it infuriated him to no end. It would appear that his trip was effectively over as he found himself more and more consumed with thoughts of his unruly children and their equally wild governess.

"Do you want me to send up for some tea? Perhaps some Aspirin?" Elsa inquired, ever the elegant hostess. He gave her a small smile before moving to stand.

"No, thank you. I think I'll just turn in for the night," he announced. Elsa let her smile fall ever so slightly while Max simply shrugged, taking another gulp from his glass. Georg caught Elsa's hand in his, pressing his lips gently against the back of it. Her smile returned in full force.

"I was thinking," he started softly, "that perhaps in a few days time, I could take you back to Aigen with me."

"Of course, darling. The Wagners are hosting a party the day after tomorrow that I've already agreed to attend, but we could go the day after if you'd like," she replied. Georg smiled.

"Perfect," he said, letting go of her hand.

"Perhaps I have plans that day," Max huffed next to them. Georg rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps I wasn't inviting you," Georg snapped back, only causing Max to grin.

"We've already been over this, Georg. You need a chaperone, naturally, and who better than your dear friend Max?"

"Who better indeed," Georg muttered, catching Elsa's giggle from the corner of his eye.

He bid his farewells before exiting the room. He made his way up the grand staircase, feeling the cracks in his mask begin to form. He felt his features droop as the weariness beneath the surface began to take its toll.

He entered his guest room, shutting the door with a quiet click before he began to undress. He slipped under the silk sheets, willing his thoughts to stay at bay for the night. He was tired of thinking about what he might find when he arrived back home. He was exhausted from being exasperated over the governess he had only known for a day. He was simply just tired.

Clinging desperately to his favoured memories of the sea, his mind quieted, and he let the sea drift him far, far away.


He was walking through the foyer in his home in Aigen. He recognized the great white columns and the grand staircase, but something was amiss. It was as if his vision was blurred at the edges.

It was far too quiet as well. There was no sound, not even the clicking of his shoes against the marble floor as he walked.

He glanced around, hoping to spot something, anything that might indicate what was wrong – why did he feel this hammering in his chest?

That was when he caught sight of it – a figure drifting gracefully into the ballroom. The figure was in a dress of all white, with a long train, and a veil that kept their face from Georg's view.

"Georg," the voice called out in a whisper. His heart stammered in his chest. He was certain he recognized that voice.

Naturally, he ran after the figure, needing answers. Something was definitely wrong now. He was telling his feet to run, and yet, they moved so slowly he wasn't sure he would ever make it to the ballroom.

He opened his mouth to call out to figure, to tell them to wait, but nothing came from his mouth. He couldn't make a sound.

With agonizing slowness, he reached the double doors of the ballroom, his eyes frantically searching the space for the figure in white. He found them, all right – they were through the French doors, out on the terrace. The figure had their back turned towards him, but they knelt low to the ground, their head bowed down.

Once again, Georg moved to run, only to find his feet working at half the speed of his mind. There was an ethereal glow about this figure that only got brighter as Georg approached them. It was unnatural, and yet, he couldn't look away.

Finally, he stood just behind the figure. They didn't move, didn't react to his presence, simply stayed kneeling with their head down. He walked around the figure, hoping to make them aware of his presence, but to no avail.

Slowly, he sank to his knees before the figure, his heart racing. His hand reached out to grip the lace material of the veil, careful not to scare the figure, but desperately wanting answers. When the figure still didn't move, he began to pull the veil up, slowly revealing the figure.

He had expected it to be Agathe. He had hoped it to be Agathe. He had believed his mind was tormenting him by showing him his bride, by reminding him of all that he had lost.

However, it was not Agathe.

No, when the perpetrator looked up, blue met blue, and his heart stopped entirely as a sound finally escaped from his lips – one name, three broken syllables spoken into the universe.

"Maria."


Georg bolted upright in his bed, his limbs tangled hopelessly in the sheets. His heart raced mercilessly, knocking against his chest as if it wanted to be let out. He felt as if he simply wasn't getting enough air, and when had it gotten so warm in his room?

He jumped out of bed, clumsily detangling himself from the sheets. He ran to the bathroom, turning on the cold water tap as he began to splash his face with water, willing his mind to release the lingering images that clung to his mind like a tattoo.

His brain was merciless. Every time his eyes shut, he was right back there on that terrace with Maria, her eyes boring into his. He shook his head.

No, he told himself repeatedly.

His hands gripped the granite counter until his knuckles turned white. He tried to focus on the sound of the running water, of the rise and fall of his chest as he attempted to even his breathing.

He couldn't have just been dreaming about the governess, could he? Certainly not. But it was undeniably her that he had found under that veil. But why? He didn't even know her all that well. That had spent half a day under the same roof and all she had done was irritate him mercilessly.

Perhaps that was why. She had obviously managed to get under his skin, leaving a lasting bad taste in his mouth. Was this his mind's new form of torment? To assault his subconscious moments with haunting images of his children's governess? Even now, as the image sharpened in his mind, Georg shuddered, his hands tightening against the granite. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to force the image from his mind. It failed miserably, only strengthening the ethereal glow around her form as she looked up at him with those strikingly blue eyes that kicked his heartrate up once more.

Feeling utterly defeated, Georg shut the tap off, sighing as he made his way back to the bed. He slipped under the silken sheets, his form rigid and every muscle filled with tension as his eyes focused on the canopy above him. He didn't dare to close his eyes again, fearing the image he would find behind his eyelids.

He tried to think about anything else; the comfort he should find in Elsa's smile, the way the sea sparkled under the summer sun, the trouble he and Max had found themselves in during their earlier Navy days. He stayed awake like that, overstimulating his mind with thoughts to drive him to distraction from the dream that had begun to feel like an itch in the back of his mind.

He prayed that when the dawn broke, the dream would fade away, as dreams often did in the daylight. He hoped it distorted, that the details became foggy, that it drifted to a distant memory he could hardly recall.

His prayers were never answered.


A/N: Another update? So soon? Yes, well, this was actually one of the first chapters I wrote for this story, and I simply adore it. There's something about an emotionally tortured Georg that is just so beautiful to write.

I hope you've enjoyed :)