The morning sun was barely over the hills outside of their window before Georg was nuzzling into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and cocooning her against his naked body in an attempt to gently rouse her from slumber. He always rose with the sun but this was the first morning in a very long time that he'd woken up beside the woman he loved and it filled him with a warmth he thought he'd long forgotten.

The sight of his young bride innocently sprawled on her back next to him, her delicate torso enticingly exposed all the way down to her waist where the covers met her skin, was causing the blood to flow faster through his veins, making it almost imperative that she wake up soon. He liked to think he could be a patient man when the situation called for it, but she looked entirely too irresistible to ignore, her exposed breasts gently rising and falling with each breath she took, the gentle swell of her hips inching just slightly out of the covers as if inviting him to explore what lay underneath, her rosy lips ever so slightly parted as though inviting him to claim them. He felt his mouth water just looking at her, the silken skin just aching to be touched and tasted.

She looked utterly breathtaking in slumber, entirely unaware of her frank nakedness, completely comfortable in her own skin, totally oblivious to his admiring eyes. He knew that if she woke up she would hurriedly make an effort to cover herself and he made a mental note to convince her otherwise when the moment finally came. She gave a delectable little sigh in her sleep then and he felt his body responding instantly - almost urgently - as he was reminded of her whimpers of pleasure the night before in the moments when she'd finally sheathed him.

His body longed to feel her again and he nuzzled her neck a second time in his urgency. When she didn't stir, he let his fingertips stroke the velvet skin between her breasts, allowing them to trace a path down her stomach and back up again.

"Darling.." He whispered into the shell of her ear, daring himself to run a thumb featherlight across her nipple, to which she subconsciously arched into his touch and gave another heart-stopping moan before settling against the pillows again. A fresh wave of arousal coursed through his body at the sound and he realised he was beginning to get desperate - a difficult thing to admit for a man who prided himself on his iron control.

He found himself wondering whether she was already awake after all and was merely teasing him. She'd done enough of that in the first few hours of their wedding night - their first encounters as husband and wife had seen her learning his body in new ways, understanding almost instantly what made him gasp for breath, what made his fingers fist in the sheets, what made him tremble with need, what made him plead for release. They hadn't gotten much sleep and he knew she deserved to rest, but the vivid memories of ragged breaths shared, of limbs intertwined, of sweat and moans and tongues and heat - it was becoming difficult to bare.

"Maria..," he choked, pressing his heavily aroused body just that bit closer against her, letting his fingers continue to dance along her skin as he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, her throat. Eventually, and much to his relief, her eyes fluttered open and she sighed contentedly, meeting his sheepish grin with a smile of her own that left him breathless.

"I'm sorry darling, did I wake you?" He purred mischievously, raising an eyebrow. She gave a light giggle before her eyes fell to her naked chest and embarrassment suddenly flitted across her face. Just as he'd predicted, she hurriedly leaned down to pull the covers up around her, clearly scandalised by being so wantonly splayed in the broad light of day.

"Don't.." He whispered, gently stilling her movements and allowing his eyes to fall to her breasts hungrily, "you are breathtaking, sweetheart," he leaned in slowly and kissed the exposed skin delicately, "I haven't been able to take my eyes off you."

He pulled the covers back unashamedly to show her exactly how much she'd affected him, and he watched her eyes travel curiously down his chest, his stomach, lower, until they widened slightly in surprise and a delicious blush crept up her neck. Much to his delight, her eyes flew back up to meet his and he discovered her irises darkening with desire, completely unafraid and unperturbed by his body's response to her.

"Again?" She whispered in delighted surprise and his sheepish smile returned, acknowledging that he himself had been pleasantly surprised by just how much his body seemed to think it was nineteen again. It had been a very long time since he'd felt such uninhibited desire. He'd had one or two flippant encounters with meaningless women in the lonely years that followed Agathe's death but they'd been half-hearted, soulless unions at best. Ever since his carnally ravenous desire to lose himself in Maria's supple body the day he'd arrived in Davos however, his long-dormant hormones had kicked into the next gear.

"I can't seem to help mysel.. ," his words were lost to a groan as she began to play lazily with the dark thatch of hair across his chest, down his sternum, his stomach, until -

He inhaled sharply as her nimble fingers suddenly closed around him, and he found himself shifting impatiently against her grip, desperate for the friction she stubbornly refused to give. And just as she finally began to reward him with the languid movement of her fingers, just as his eyes were beginning to roll back in his head, a heavy knock was heard at the door and his heart suddenly stilled in his ribs.

"Do not disturb!" He blurted out in dismay through gritted teeth, hell-bent on ridding them of their sudden and unwelcome visitor. In her startled state, his wife had frozen to the spot and had unknowingly tightened her grip around him, causing his lungs to fight for air against the exquisite agony of her ministrations. But the knocking persisted and the muffled voice on the other side of the door informed him there was a telephone call that simply couldn't wait.

His eyes flew wide in alarm and his head snapped in Maria's direction, his stomach dropping into his feet as he saw his own concerned reflected back at him in her eyes. The only person they'd given the phone number of the hotel to was Max, and the impresario had insisted he'd only call in an emergency. What had happened? What was so urgent it could not wait?

The insistent knocking started up again and Georg snapped out of his disturbing reverie, scrambling from the bed to retrieve some form of clothing.

"Wait here," he instructed, as Maria pulled the covers up to her chin in comfort, the uncertainty etched into her features, "I'm sure it's nothing darling, I'll take care of it."

Maria watched as he left the room, feeling a heavy sense of dread fill her stomach as she thought of what the phone call might be about. Had Max and the children been turfed out of the accommodation? Were one of the children hurt? Or was it far worse than that? She thought back to how deliriously happy, how boyishly carefree Georg had seemed since the moment they'd been married and she braced herself against the fact that this phone call might cause his smile to fade. His beautifully complex disposition meant he had the potential to change in the blink of an eye. He was capable of intense happiness, infallible wit, unwavering passion - but with his ability to feel deeply came the inevitable burden of experiencing hurt, pain, anguish, just as intensely. It was awful to watch him suffer, just as it had been all those months ago when she'd first met him and learned of his sorrow. But she knew that for all his dimpled smiles, for all his dark moods, for all his passion and emotion and heartache - she wouldn't change her stoic captain for the world.

The very subject of her thoughts came back into the room then, having only been gone a few minutes. His face was darkened with shadows and and his stormy eyes spoke of bad news.

"Nazi soldiers have crossed the borders," he murmured gravely, closing the door behind him, "we must flee. Today."

Tense moments passed before she threw the covers back and made to get up. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him, to ask how Max had found out, to ask if everybody was safe. But suddenly Georg was there on the bed in front of her, hooking his hands behind her knees and pulling her down towards him forcefully until he was nestled between her thighs. His face was set in stone and his tortured eyes burned a hole in her as he wordlessly asked for her consent. It was a look she'd grown increasingly accustomed to in these dark times, one that she found herself delighting in, despite his evident torment. He was asking for permission again - not to love her, not to pleasure her, but to use her body first and foremost as an escape from his pain. The last time he'd looked at her that way, she'd revelled in the resulting frenzied encounter precisely because she took the greatest pleasure in knowing that she was his equal, his lifeblood, his anchor. It had moved her deeply to know that their becoming one body, one mind, one soul, had soothed him when nothing else could.

And so she met his blazing eyes unafraid and unashamed, relaxing into him and gasping when he suddenly took her as his own in one fervent thrust, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. Of relief or of despair? She wasn't sure. But she knew that for now, her many questions would have to wait, they would have to come second to his need for comfort, his need for reassurance, his need for his wife. And she was more than prepared to give him exactly what he craved. She knew their desperate encounter would be frantic, quick and wordless before they'd be forced to face reality once more. And so she met his every urgent move with arduous acquiescence, allowing him to love her, to take her, to use her as he must until the world fell away from him and he was entirely spent, gasping professions of adoration against her ear, her lips, her breasts as she clung to him, soothing his soul with heartfelt promises to never leave his side for as long as they lived.

Not one hour later they were pressed and dressed, gathering their few belongings as a solemn silence hung in the air. Georg had told her briefly about the phone call - about the news that had reached Davos that very morning. Nazi soldiers had crossed the borders into neutral Switzerland and were infiltrating the hillside towns, taking food, water and other provisions. So far there'd been no violence - it sounded more like an intimidation tactic than anything else - and they hadn't yet reached Davos, but it was only a matter of time before they were on the doorstep.

Georg's description would surely be known amongst officials and it was far too risky to stick around. Max and the children were already on their way over to them by bus, and they were to meet the impresario by the village bus stop to take the first means of transport out of the hills.

Their plan was to head to Zurich, where they would catch several trains to Paris and then from there, they would move to Calais, eventually crossing the channel into England. Georg would be able to recover a lot of the family's fortune he had locked away in British banks and the children would be able to see their grandparents on Agathe's side before Georg would look into the means necessary to move the family to America. A ship from London to New York seemed most likely, but they would need to acquire visitors permits first.

"One step at a time sweetheart," Georg had reassured her, taking her dainty hands in his as she sat on the edge of the bed, "all we have to do right now is get to Zurich. With every step we take, we need to be one step ahead of them."

When she'd nodded compliantly and gazed forlornly at the floor, he'd sunk down on his haunches and taken her chin gently in his hand, "you know... when I used to long to be your husband - before I told you how I felt about you - I used to imagine that Paris is where I'd have taken you on our honeymoon," he gave a weak smile as she nuzzled into his caressing hand, "and now I'll finally be able to show you the city of love, my darling. Even if only from a hotel window, even with seven children and a lodger in tow."

She'd smiled then and accepted his doting kiss as he held her against him, their roles suddenly reversing as he became the bulwark and she the one in need of comfort.

"Come on," he said, gently pulling her to her feet and taking her trembling hand in his own as he made to leave the room, "follow me."

"Always," she whispered, closing the door to their makeshift honeymoon suite, and the memories it held, behind her.

They'd found Max and the children with little difficulty and managed to board a bus to Zurich with very few problems, much to Maria's relief. She willed herself to relax a little - after all, the soldiers weren't in pursuit - the Nazis were far too occupied with the outbreak of the war to waste time tracking down Captain von Trapp and his family. But still she felt ill at ease, knowing that all it would take was the wrong pair of eyes to recognise her husband and his fate would be sealed.

It had taken eight hours to make it to Zurich and they hadn't eaten, had hardly had any water, and the children were growing restless with hunger - but there was no time to waste. Soldiers had only been reported as infiltrating the mountain villages and towns but it was surely only a matter of time before they made their way into the larger cities.

Maria tried to soothe her tired brood, the youngest biting back tears of confusion while Georg and Max battled through the crowded train station to get ten tickets to Karlsruhe, where they'd then connect to France. It was imperative that they got to Paris as quickly as possible. There were rumours that the Wehrmacht had launched a series of mobile operations on the Ardennes and along the Somme valley, but they hadn't managed to break the Maginot Line yet. Nevertheless, danger was still imminent and it had been difficult to get a true insight into what was happening across borders.

Georg had been trying to get hold of newspapers whenever and wherever he could but they'd had to resort to piecing the puzzle together from the little information they'd managed to gather during their escape. He knew there was a risk in moving to the French capital, what with the threat of the Wehrmacht already on French soil, but if they were quick they would surely reach Paris before the enemy managed to move deeper into the country. Either way they had very little choice - it was their fastest means of making it to Calais so that they could cross the channel into England. One night. They would spend just one night in an inconspicuous part of Paris so that they could eat and rest before fleeing once again. With any luck, it would still be the Paris Georg so fondly remembered, free from the stain of Nazi footprints traipsing through its streets.

The train had been stuffy and crowded, the summer sun beating down on their carriage and turning it into a furnace as it trundled through the Swiss countryside. The children had managed to sleep a little, as had their uncle, whose head had slumped adorably against Friedrich's shoulder as they'd both snored lightly. It appeared to be only the newlyweds that sleep had evaded, despite their exhaustion. At Karlsruhe, Georg had managed to grab an abandoned newspaper before they'd boarded the next train to Paris and he was reading it intently, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in frustration, small beads of sweat forming along his hairline. He said nothing, eventually thrusting the pages closed with a disgusted grunt and chucking the crumpled material to the floor.

It was with a sigh of relief that they finally arrived in Paris to find that it was very much the peaceful, welcoming city it had always been, save for a few museums being closed and buildings being boarded up. It had not yet been touched by Nazi claws and the realisation lightened Georg's mood tenfold. Maria was in awe of the city's majesty, it's sparkling lights, its elegant people, it's bustle of noise and excitement. She longed to explore it, as they surely would've done if they'd been granted a proper honeymoon, but they'd been travelling nonstop for twenty two hours and she was growing concerned for the children's wellbeing. Their complaints of hunger and thirst that had been rife throughout the journey had eventually dwindled into a disturbing silence, their faces appearing gaunt and pale. Georg must have noticed it too, for he whisked them into accommodation on the outskirts of town as quickly as possible, rushing out for provisions and encouraging them to eat a hearty amount before he eventually allowed sleep to claim them.

It wasn't until hours later, when the sun was lower in the sky, that Maria's eyes fluttered open and she realised she must've also fallen asleep. She wasn't sure what time they arrived in Paris but she knew it'd been some time in the morning and they must've spent the majority of the day succumbing to their exhaustion. She sat up from her position on the floor and scanned the room. Georg was snoring gently next to her while Max was slumped in the chair in the corner of the room. All seven of the children were huddled on the double bed like puppies, sleeping soundly after more than twenty four hours of no rest.

She got to her feet silently and tiptoed to the window, where she allowed herself to drink in the view of the city stretched out in front of her - the glimmer of glass windows that reflected the glow of the afternoon, the silhouette of what she believed was the Eiffel Tower in the far distance, the bridges and roads and buildings that fell in shadow against the early evening sun. She gave a soft sigh before she was startled by a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

"Do you wish you could see it my darling?" Georg whispered compassionately into the shell of her ear, "the city of love?"

She nodded, settling into his embrace as she gazed out of the little window with longing.

"Then why don't you show her, Georg?" The couple whirled around to find Max sitting up in his chair, nursing a cramp in his neck.

"What do you mean?" Georg frowned, releasing Maria abruptly, embarrassed to have been caught out in an intimacy he'd wrongly assumed was private.

"Go and show her Paris," Max stated simply, attempting to stretch, "Take Maria to dinner, a nice walk along the Sene.. You know. I can watch the children for a few hours - it's not like they're waking up any time soon."

Georg considered the proposition thoughtfully. Could he show her Paris, as he'd always imagined doing? They were rested, fed and watered - the children were safe and sleeping soundly. There was no Nazi threat in the capital. Could they enjoy an hour or two in his favourite haunts, forgetting momentarily that there was a war on the doorstep? How he'd longed to give her a honeymoon to remember in this beautiful city.. and the hopeful look in her eyes was all it took to convince him.

"Thank you my friend," he whispered gratefully to Max before grabbing Maria's hand, "thank you."

Maria had never seen such quaint, yet animated streets as the ones that Georg was showing her. Paris was a whirlwind of activity and yet the most peaceful, eloquent place she'd ever laid eyes on. There were bustling bars and street vendors on every corner, artists and painters and performers down every road she turned. She found herself mesmerised by everything she saw and Georg gave a low chuckle every time she emitted a delighted gasp at some new discovery.

As the sun began to set behind the Parisian architecture he took her to see the Eiffel Tower, where they sat in the Trocadero Gardens, innocently touching and kissing in public as though they were nothing more than carefree lovers. It filled her with intense joy to see him in his element, excitable and happy to be able to show her his favourite places. With a delectable smile and a breathtaking kiss, he'd suddenly pulled her to her feet and led her to one of the nearby trees, where he looked around mischievously before leaning towards the bark. She'd known instantly what he was doing and it filled her heart with such an aching tenderness towards him that she could've sunk to her knees from the intensity of it. He was etching their symbol into the bark, that very same symbol that set her heart alight, that very same symbol that held the world of hope, that very same symbol that now marked three different trees in three different countries, each of which had seen their love challenged, pushed, stretched, but never defeated.

M+G.

It wasn't until they were walking back towards their accommodation, hand in hand, talking of everything and nothing as they walked along the banks of the Sene, that Maria realised it had been one of the happiest afternoons of her life.

Never before had she learned so much, seen so much, and experienced so much in such a short space of time and it was all down to the brilliant and stirring man that stood devotedly by her side. She didn't know how to put into words what his love meant to her, what his devotion made her feel. Between them they'd experienced more heartache then two lovers ever should, but for all they had suffered, she felt stronger because of his presence by her side. She wanted desperately to tell him just how much he'd changed her life.

"Georg.."

But she never got to speak the words, for a strange, high pitched whistling sound pierced the peaceful ambience and halted them in their tracks. It gradually grew louder and louder and Maria wondered what on earth could make such an odd sound, before Georg's voice - so extreme and alien in its urgency - was suddenly screaming at her to get down, his strong arms dragging her rigid body to the floor before a sudden and Earth-shattering eruption of ear-splitting noise, blinding light and showering debris obliterated the world around them and sent them plunging into darkness.

A/N:thank you for your patience in waiting for this update! Just a note, the geography and historical events are based very loosely on some research I've done but it's mostly complete fiction, so do excuse me for the lack of hard facts :) please do review, I love to hear your thoughts as always.