A/N: Just to let you know, I've only ever seen the London cast. Therefore, in my head, Moritz is Iwan Rheon who has quite a distinctive voice, so I'm really sorry if what he says translates wrong with the Moritz in your head. Ditto Ilse. I try to not assign actors to my fanfic, as I find it really annoying when people are like "imagine Idina Menzel" (obv for Wicked, not here..that'd just be bizzarre), but that's just who my Moritz is. And trust me, for the time he was on stage, Iwan Rheon was Moritz. He was just outstandingly beautiful. Anyway, I'll stop fangirling and give you chapter two! Hope you enjoy, I had quite a bit of trouble with this chapter, so I hope you like it :) A review would be lovely. Hope you're all well.

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There had always been a strict routine to the Stiefel's Sundays; first, Church, where they would pray condescendingly for those less fortunate than themselves. Then, in the afternoons, Frau Stiefel would constantly be occupied by doing good, never noticing that her help may be needed by her own son. Herr Stiefel would spend his Sunday hunting with his colleagues from the bank, and Moritz would spend his Sunday pouring hopelessly over his schoolwork. Occasionally, he would spend his Sundays with Melchior, either studying or running through fields, enjoying a temporary return to childhood. But he had not spent a Sunday with Melchior since summer had ended, the peaceful, sun drenched bliss giving way to this constant drkness and uncertainty within Moritz's mind.

The family marched off dutifully to Church, pressed and presentable, although Moritz's hair was still utterly impossible to flatten, and lay at random angles stubbornly, despite Moritz's heartfelt effort to subdue it with water. The sermon was as dull and uninspiring as ever – warning of the dangers of lust and evils of the modern world. Moritz looked around him, at the other children of the village that sat in the old wooden pews. The boys sat behind him, and so he focused on the girls. The girls who he used to see everyday, by the lake or at each others houses for afternoon tea. But now, he rarely saw them, and he felt like they were another species. Wendla was in the pew infront of him, staring at her hands. She was still so delicate, but was somehow so changed from the little Pirate Queen he knew when he was younger. Next to her was Anna, who was staring straight at the front, but Moritz knew if he could see her eyes, they would be glazed with boredom. Thea sat in the pew next to his, fiddling with her plaits and obviously not listening. Across the room, he saw Martha. Poor Martha, her father was one of the most terrifying men Moritz had ever met. Herr Bessell had once caught him in his orchard, stealing apples. He could still remember the force of his belt across his back, then the pain and the blood, though he must have been only eight or nine when it happened.

--

After church, there was Sunday school, but Moritz managed to leave, telling the teacher, a slightly simple spinster woman from the village, that he didn't feel well. After checking to see nobody was following him, he started on the road that lead out of the village. He had no real idea where he was going, but he'd heard the girls' whispering that they had seen Ilse on this road, wondering among the wildflowers. It was a shot in the dark, yet one he was willing to take, for a reason unknown even to himself. He hadn't seen her since they were children, and now her name was a taboo – but he missed her. Her fiery attitude, her warm smile, her bewitching eyes, the way she held his hand when they were playing pirates, clinging onto him like he was the only one who could save her.

He walked for what seemed like hours, the autumn sun still shining bright overhead, not sure where he was going or what he would do when he got there. Then he saw her – flame hair cropped close to her chin, laughing to herself, her ankles tangled round a branch, dangling upside down like one of those monkeys you read about in stories. She lifted her head at the sound of footsteps, and smiled happily.

"Moritz!" She cried out, swinging down gently, running towards him. She clasped him in a tight hug, clinging to him desperately. Moritz stood there, paralyzed by the shock of this unexpected contact, and finally patted her back hesitantly.

"Ilse. I was hoping I would find you here." Ilse smiled at him, and grabbed his hand.

"Come, sit with me in my den." Her eyes were a little too wide, he noticed, her hair unkempt and wild, her voice slightly shrill. She saw his hesitance, and stared at him. "Please." She sounded so pitiful, he allowed himself to be pulled along, until they came to a hedge. She crawled underneath, and motioned for him to follow. The hedge was hollow inside, and Moritz looked around, bewildered. Ilse looked thrilled at his confusion. "How can I help you?"

"Ilse, what is this place? I thought you were living.."

"In Priapia, yes. But I like to move around a little. Life's boring if you stay in one place, Moritz." Moritz nodded, but couldn't relate to what she was saying. "I like it here. It's close to home." So Moritz can't have been walking too long, then. The confusion must have prolonged the journey somewhat. "Sometimes I see the girls, walking and laughing. They think I'm mad." She leant closer to him, her eyes glistening slightly. Moritz shuffled back, gulping. "Do you think I'm mad?"

He stammered slightly, unsure what he should say. Truly, he didn't think she was mad – although he had heard his parents discussing her, and they certainly did. But, to Moritz, she wasn't mad, she was the sanest person he had ever met – she was free, free of adults, free of their preconceptions and restrictions. She was happy, truly happy, almost like when she was a child. He admired her, to an extent. He shook is head no, but looked around him. You have to question the sanity of someone who calls the inside of a hedge a home.

She stared at him. "Anyway, you wanted something?" Her tone was more distant now, and Moritz felt guilty.

"I need..I need to ask you something. And I thought I could ask you, because you're..you're not like the village people, you're a-a bohemian, you have more relaxed ideas, more informed ideas, and the bible says its wrong, but I don't know, how can it be wrong when it makes you feel like this, this strangely magical sensation –" His words were clumsy and confused, and Ilse rolled her eyes, laughing slightly.

"Moritz, you're babbling. Just like you always have." She took his hand and smiled at him. Moritz tried to relax, and found himself smiling at the bits of shrub that rested in her red hair. "Ask me what you want to know. Quick, precise, to the point – don't babble."

"Is – I mean, should – is.."

"Moritz..." she said warningly, and Moritz gulped.

"Isitwrongtoloveaman?" He finally said in a rush, the words tripping over themselves in a confused heap. Ilse sat back, as if thinking about the question.

"I don't know. Truly, the bible tells us it is. But, at Priapia, men love women, men love men, women love women. We believe – love is love." Moritz was as confused as ever, and Ilse sighed. "Moritz, the society you live in, they think it's wrong. But listen to your heart. One day, maybe, it could change. But you need to understand – in places like home, it won't be easy. Remember poor Herr Renolph?" Moritz nodded; surely there wasn't a person in the village who did not remember the fate of Herr Renolph. Strung up in the street for being found with another man.

"Why do you ask?" She cocked her head to the side. "Moritz, have you had feelings for-"

"N-no." He cut her off, and scrabbled out of the hedge. "I have to-g-go, to get home, I told Fraulein Habitlien I was sick, she'll ask after me, I have to-" He began to run.

"Moritz! Moritz, please, just come back!" Ilse called after him, the words sticking in her throat.

But he was gone.

--

He ran back down the path leading to the village, not stopping to think, just wanting to run, to escape all the complications that he found himself in. He was running so fast that all he could see were blurs, his eyes too full of tears to focus on anything. Maybe that's why, when he was about five minutes away from home, he crashed into another person, knocking both of them flat

"Honestly, will you watch where you're going?!" The voice was harsh, and Moritz looked up, expecting to see an adult. Instead, the tall, imposing form of Hanschen greeted him. Moritz scrabbled to his feet, and offered Hanschen a hand, more out of fear than any real courtesy. Hanschen rolled his eyes and accepted it grudgingly, hoisitng himself up. "Why were you running like that anyway? And where were you in Sunday School anyway? I thought you were ill." Moritz was slightly startled; Hanschen had not spoken to him this much in the last 2 years, yet he was suddenly full of apparent intrest.

"I went for a walk, to c-clear my h-head." Hanschen raised an eyebrow.

"You've got shrub in your hair." He stated in a bored voice. "Visiting Ilse in her hedge?" Moritz stuttured, and Hanschen sighed. "Oh relax, I'm not about to tell the adults she's there. I was walking by a few days ago and saw her hanging from that tree of hers. She showed me her home in the hedge." He laughed, and Moritz winced slightly. "She's quite the little homemaker."

"Well, y-yes, she's had a d-difficult time. I really must go, M-mother will be worried."

"Mm, I suppose she will be. It's nearly two you know; time for the mothers' weekly tea and gossip session. Goodbye Moritz." And he contiuned walking up the path, leaving Moritz staring blankly after him.