hi there this is my first fan fic i hope its not to imposing a task for me. I always felt that while Liesel grew and had a good arc in the movies i felt like she was owed more so i wanted to write this to focus on her some scenes will be from the movie others will be new ones i hope dear reader with this story i can instill the love i have for Liesel in you and make you root for her story. This story will focus on her alone and see through her eyes all the ups and downs life has to offer.
The storm outside raged on, wind and rain lashing against the balcony. Liesl exhaled slowly, running a finger along the rim of her glass once more. She had spent so many years avoiding these memories, but they were part of her. They had shaped her, just as surely as the waltzes, the laughter, and the painted portraits had.
This was only the beginning. The past was calling to her, whispering through time, leading her toward the answers she had yet to seek.
Liesl tightened her grip on the balcony railing, watching the storm rage beyond the hills. If she wanted to find herself, she would have to start where everything began.
(1937)
Liesel heard the sharp sound of her father's whistle—the signal she knew all too well. Suppressing a yawn, she marched down the grand staircase, her back straight, her face carefully composed. The polished wood was cool beneath her fingertips as she descended, her heart heavy with the weight of expectation.
At the bottom of the stairs, Captain von Trapp stood as cold and rigid as ever, his posture unyielding, his expression carved from stone.
"Good morning, Father," Liesel greeted him dutifully.
"Liesel," he replied, his voice clipped and formal. "In two days' time, a governess from the Abbey will arrive to watch over you and your siblings. I expect you to inform them."
"Yes, Father." Liesel hesitated, shifting slightly on her feet. "Father… I was wondering if, instead of taking my morning walk with my siblings, I might go alone?" She tried to sound casual, but inside, she braced for his reaction.
His lips pressed into a thin line. "And why would you need such a thing? These walks are meant to instill discipline."
"Oh, no reason," she lied. In truth, she had hoped to see Rolfe by the gazebo, even if just for a moment.
The Captain's piercing gaze bore into her. "Liesel, as the eldest, you are to lead by example. You must ensure your siblings are prepared to greet Fraulein Maria with order and respect."
"But, Father—"
"No buts, young lady. As long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules." His voice was firm, allowing no argument.
Liesel swallowed her disappointment. "Yes, Father…"
"Now, get your siblings up for morning inspection. There is much to be done. This house must be in top shape before the governess arrives."
"Of course, Father. Right away."
"Be ready within half an hour," he said before turning away, leaving her standing there, feeling small and weary.
Liesel blinked back the sting of tears. She wished her father wasn't always so cold. Once, he had been kind and full of laughter. But ever since her mother had passed, all warmth had drained from him. Truthfully, it had drained from her, too.
She had been 14 when it happened—old enough to understand loss but too young to carry it. Her mother had been the heart of their home, her laughter the melody that filled every corner of their grand house. And then, one day, the music had stopped.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Liesel would hear the faint sounds of her father mourning—soft, broken sobs escaping from his locked study. But by morning, he would emerge as stone once more, never allowing his grief to touch daylight.
Liesel squared her shoulders. She didn't have the luxury of breaking down. She had to be strong—for her father, for her siblings. If she didn't hold the family together, who would?
She turned on her heel and climbed the stairs, making her way to Louisa and Friedrich's room.
"Louisa, Friedrich—time to get up. Father's orders."
"Five more minutes," Louisa groaned.
"Yes, five more minutes," Friedrich echoed sleepily.
"No five minutes—time to get up, you layabouts," Liesel declared, marching to their beds and yanking off the covers. "Now get dressed. We meet Father in half an hour."
"Alright, alright, we're up," Louisa yawned.
"Good. You have five minutes to be ready," Liesel said briskly before moving on to wake the rest of her siblings.
As she passed through the hallway, she paused before a portrait of her mother—the only one her father had not removed.
The woman in the painting smiled warmly, her arms wrapped protectively around a younger Liesel, frozen in time.
A lump rose in Liesel's throat as the memory came rushing back.
She was eight years old, fidgeting on her mother's lap while the artist set up his easel. The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, bathing them both in a golden glow.
"Sit still, my darling," her mother had said softly, smoothing her unruly hair as the artist prepared his paints.
"But Mother, I want to play," little Liesel had whined, kicking her feet impatiently.
Her mother chuckled, pulling her closer. "Hush, my pet. This moment is special. One day, you will look at this painting and remember how much I love you."
Liesel had frowned. "But I already know that."
"Then it will remind you when I'm not here," her mother whispered.
At the time, Liesel hadn't understood. The idea of her mother not being there had been unthinkable. Mothers didn't just disappear. They were supposed to be forever.
The artist, Jacques, had chuckled as he put the finishing touches on the painting. "All done, mademoiselle."
Liesel had turned to her mother expectantly. "Now can we play?"
Her mother had laughed—a sound like bells in the wind—before sweeping Liesel into her arms. "Yes, my love. Now we can play."
They had run into the garden, her mother's skirts billowing as they chased one another through the flowers. Liesel had laughed until her sides ached, until the whole world was nothing but sun and warmth and her mother's voice calling her name.
She had been safe. Loved. Whole.
And then, one day, she wasn't.
Liesel inhaled sharply as she blinked back to the present. The hallway was cold. Silent. The warmth of that memory had long since faded, leaving only the ache of its absence.
She reached out, her fingertips grazing the edge of the frame. "What am I to do, Mother?" she whispered. "I miss you. I miss the way you made everything feel… right."
Her throat tightened. "Father misses you too, but he won't say it. He keeps everything locked away, like he's afraid that if he lets himself feel, it will break him." She swallowed hard. "And I don't know how to help him. I don't know how to help any of us."
The house remained silent. No answer came.
Liesel wiped at her tears, steeling herself. She had no time for sadness. Her family needed her.
She marched to the next room, throwing open the door. "Alright, everyone, out of bed," she ordered.
"Do we have to?" Brigitta groaned.
"That's an order," Liesel said firmly.
There were more groans, but within ten minutes, all seven children were dressed and standing in a neat line. Just as Liesel was straightening her dress, she felt a tug on her skirt.
She looked down to see little Gretel, her big blue eyes full of uncertainty. "Liesel, can you hold my hand?"
Liesel knelt beside her. "Now, you know what Father says about that. He says it's unladylike."
Gretel's face fell.
"But," Liesel added gently, "don't worry. I promise I'll always be there for you."
Gretel hesitated. "Why is Father so mean?"
Liesel sighed, considering her words. "He isn't mean, Gretel. He's just… very lonely. He misses Mother very much."
"But he has us," Gretel said, confused.
"I know," Liesel murmured. "But he's not the same without her."
She gave Gretel a reassuring smile. "So we have to be strong, alright? Can you put on a brave face for me?"
Gretel managed a small, wobbly smile.
"Good girl," Liesel whispered.
Straightening up, she turned to the others. "Now, everyone, I have some most unfortunate news. In two days, a governess will be coming to stay with us."
The room filled with groans.
Liesel sighed, but as she heard the sharp sound of her father's whistle once more, she pushed down her own frustration. There was no time for longing. No time for tears.
With her head held high, she led her siblings down the grand staircase, preparing for yet another day in the von Trapp household.
As Liesel led her siblings down the grand staircase, she forced herself to adopt the same composed, responsible expression she always wore in front of her father. It was a mask she had long since perfected, a shield against the cold silence that had filled their home since their mother's passing.
The children assembled in a neat line in the grand foyer, their polished shoes clicking softly against the floor as they adjusted their postures under the stern gaze of Captain von Trapp. He stood with his hands behind his back, his sharp eyes inspecting each of them like a commanding officer surveying his troops.
Liesel stole a glance at her younger siblings. Louisa looked bored, Kurt and Friedrich fidgeted slightly, and Brigitta was clearly suppressing an eye-roll. Even little Marta and Gretel were standing stiffly, confused by the rigid order they had grown accustomed to but never fully understood.
Captain von Trapp took a measured step forward. "This house will run efficiently. The new governess will arrive in two days, and I expect each of you to conduct yourselves accordingly. There will be no foolishness, no disorder, and no defiance." His voice was crisp, unwavering.
"Yes, Father," they all responded in unison.
"Liesel." His gaze shifted to her. "As the eldest, you will ensure that the others understand their responsibilities."
"Yes, Father."
There was a pause, just long enough for Liesel to wonder if he might say something else—something softer, something more like the man he used to be. But the moment passed, and he simply nodded before turning on his heel. "That will be all."
As soon as he disappeared into his study, the tension in the room broke like a snapped violin string.
"Another governess?" Louisa sighed. "That makes, what? The twelfth?"
"Tenth," Brigitta corrected. "But I doubt this one will last either."
"Maybe if we try hard enough, we can get rid of her in a week," Kurt suggested, grinning mischievously.
Marta gasped. "But what if she's nice?"
"They're never nice," Friedrich muttered.
Liesel exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Can we not do this? Please?"
Her siblings turned to her, their teasing expressions fading at the weariness in her voice. Liesel was always the one who held things together, who kept them in line, but today, even she felt exhausted.
"She won't last," Brigitta said more gently. "They never do."
Liesel wanted to argue, to tell them that this time might be different, but she couldn't summon the energy to lie. Instead, she forced a small smile. "We'll see."
The conversation shifted to other things, but Liesel barely listened. Her mind was elsewhere—back to the portrait of her mother, to the days when laughter filled their home instead of silence and orders.
As she walked out onto the terrace, she breathed in the crisp morning air, staring out at the lake shimmering in the distance. Somewhere out there, past the rolling hills and quiet villages, life continued as normal.
She longed for something—something beyond the rigid structure of her father's house, beyond the carefully scheduled days and the suffocating expectations. She longed for freedom, for a world that didn't demand so much from her.
She thought of Rolfe and the way he smiled at her, the way he made her feel like a girl instead of a leader, instead of someone who had to be responsible all the time. Perhaps, just for a moment, she could escape—just long enough to feel something real again.
But as the whistle sounded again from inside the house, she straightened her shoulders, sighed, and turned back.
There was no time for daydreams.
There never was.
Liesel stood before her father in his study, her hands clasped neatly in front of her as he folded his arms, watching her with that same unreadable expression he always wore. The air in the room was thick with silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel.
"The children will take their daily hike across the lake and through the property today," Captain von Trapp said, his voice crisp and authoritative. "You will lead them."
Liesel hesitated, shifting slightly on her feet. She knew what was expected of her—perfect obedience, perfect discipline—but a small, daring part of her wanted to ask for something different.
"Father," she said carefully, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Would it… perhaps be alright if I went alone today? Just this once?"
Captain von Trapp's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering behind them. "And why would you want to do that?"
She scrambled for an answer. "I thought—I thought maybe I could check the trail ahead. Make sure it's safe for the younger ones."
His gaze remained sharp. "That has never been a concern before."
Liesel swallowed. Of course, he wasn't going to make this easy. She couldn't exactly tell him the truth—that she wanted just a little freedom, a moment away, a chance to see Rolfe.
"I just thought—" she started, but he cut her off.
"You are the eldest, Liesel." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Your siblings look to you for guidance. I expect you to set an example for them. You will lead the hike, as you always have. Is that understood?"
Liesel's heart sank, but she nodded obediently. "Yes, Father."
He held her gaze a moment longer before nodding in approval. "Good. You may go."
Liesel turned, keeping her expression neutral until she was out of the study and out of sight. Then, she let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly.
So much for seeing Rolfe.