Hello! To those of you that are new here, welcome! To those of you who have been waiting patiently for an update, did you miss me? I am incredibly sorry that I disappeared off the face of the Earth. 2021 ended up being a very difficult year, and this story kind of fell on the back burner. There have been a lot of changes in my life since then that didn't really allow me to come back to this story, but I'm here now!
There will be a rather lengthy note at the end of this chapter to speak on the direction of the remainder of this story, but I won't bore you with that when you have been waiting nearly four years for an update. Please bear in mind that it has been a very long time since I have written anything. I cannot say that this chapter will live up to the wait, especially given that my writing has changed and there was such a long period of time between me writing the previous chapter and this one, but I do hope that you enjoy it regardless!
You're a bandit like me
Eyes full of stars
Hustling for the good life
Never thought I'd meet you here
The unbearable heat of the day had fizzled out as the sun sunk below the horizon, and those within von Trapp household had let out a collective sigh of relief.
Well, most of them had.
While Georg was immensely grateful that he no longer had sweat dripping from every pore in his body, he was still wound tight – tension had spread throughout his muscles leaving him stiff and irritable.
It had been a lovely day, in truth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten into the lake to play with his children. It had likely not been since Louisa was but a toddler wading in the shallow end. He'd loved every second of it. He'd loved the infectious laughter from his children as they splashed and played. He'd loved when his sons had deviously teamed up against him to pull him under the water. He'd loved racing against his eldest children. He'd loved feeling, if only for a moment, as if he were reliving his own youth.
He wasn't sure he had ever achieved such a level of carefree joy in his adult life. Maybe in the beginning with Agathe, but hardly ever since. For a few short hours, the burdens he had carried on his shoulders for months – years, more like – had lifted. It made him remorseful for all the summers that he'd wasted. He'd never regret his time spent in the Navy, fighting for his country, but he did have some longing for the summers he could have spent with his children in such a manner.
And he wished, terribly, that Agathe had been around to see it.
One might wonder to themselves how such a splendid day had ended with Georg locked away in his study, peering blankly into an unlit fireplace. His fingers tapped rapidly against the mahogany of his desk as he blatantly ignored the stack of papers in front of him.
She hadn't come down for dinner.
There was no reason this fact should have bothered him, though his traitorous eyes had glanced up to the empty spot at the other end of the table a few too many times. The vacant space had been felt acutely. The usual lively dinner chatter that he'd begun to adore had dwindled to mere casual small talk that was mostly provided by Max and Elsa. He knew the solemness had nothing to do with the earlier heat.
It was jarring to see his children go from the exuberant, outgoing individuals they had been all afternoon to a quiet, subdued group at the dinner table. Not one of them had said more than two words other than to inquire after the health of their governess. Georg was quick to dismiss each voice of concern with casual disinterest.
I am positive that Fraulein Maria is just fine. She is in need of a bit of rest, is all.
Though even he could hear the falsity ring clear in his own words.
He'd given strict instructions to Frau Schmidt to check on the governess once every hour, and though she'd reported that the girl was fine, just tired, it didn't stop Georg from fearing the worst.
Should he call the doctor? How bad was it? Had it simply been the heat? Or was she coming down with something that had nothing to do with the suffocating warmth of the day?
For the Fraulein to retire to her room for the afternoon was one thing, but to miss dinner was an entirely different story. Not once in her stay with the von Trapps had she missed a meal. She'd been inexplicably tardy, for certain – a habit he'd internally made a game out of, unbeknownst to her – but she'd always joined them eventually.
When she still didn't appear to see the children off to bed, the anxiety within his chest began to fester into something ugly that he wasn't quite ready to confront. Most nights, they'd put the children to bed together. It was not something that was entirely orthodox, given that it was part of her duties, but he'd felt a responsibility to make his children feel safe and to make them see that he was consistently showing up for them.
It had become a routine, in which he would read to them before they all got settled in bed. It had quickly become one of his favourite times of the day, to have the quiet, undivided attention of his children as the wound down for the night. By the soft, sleepy smile he had caught on her face when he would glance at her over the top of whatever book he'd been begged to read, he'd believed she'd come to thoroughly enjoy the ritual as well.
He tried to reason with himself that his concern came from a purely professional nature. What if she'd caught something and given it to the children? What if she wasn't able to perform her duties for the next few days?
What if she's ill like Agathe was?
It was that question that made his mind stutter to a complete halt.
It was a ridiculous notion, really. Frau Schmidt had assured him repeatedly that Fraulein Maria was well. However, he'd been told that once before, and everyone knew how that story had ended.
The children have just begun to trust again, thanks to Fraulein Maria, he thought. Could they really survive to watch her go through the same ordeal their own mother had?
He felt silly even considering it. He was supposed to be practical, level-headed, pragmatic. He'd commanded forces of dozens of men for heaven's sake! A mere bout of what was likely to be heat sickness should not be sending him into a spiral, especially in regard to a young woman whom he'd only known for a handful of weeks.
But the seed of doubt had niggled into every corner of his mind, and he was man enough to admit that he was concerned, even if he wasn't man enough to admit why.
He had half a mind to check on her himself, if only to ensure that he truly had no need to call for the doctor, but propriety wouldn't allow it. With the maids and Franz roaming about, he could only imagine the sordid tales that would arise should one of them come across their employer loitering near the governess's quarters, even if his intentions were entirely pure. It certainly would not end well, especially with Elsa keeping a particularly close eye on him after he'd briefly become uncharacteristically frantic when she informed him that the Fraulein had retired to her room unwell.
He sighed. It would not do to fret over the Fraulein's health any further. It was simply not productive, and he was well aware that it wasn't appropriate. The dreams that had plagued him each and every night had crossed enough lines in his psyche, he wouldn't allow himself to begin dwelling about her in his waking hours as well.
He resolved himself to ponder on it no longer. He tapped the cool wood one last time before standing, stretching his weary limbs languidly.
Perhaps he would get some fresh air, now that the temperature had dropped significantly. Perhaps it would ease his restless mind.
He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. He felt the dull burn of the muscles in his shoulders as he slipped it on. He smiled faintly. He may have pushed himself a little too hard while racing Louisa in the lake, but as he remembered her triumphant smile as she'd just barely beat her father, he knew it was entirely worth the aches he'd have the next day.
With his tie straightened and a hand run through his still somewhat rebellious hair, he made his way out of the study, locking the door behind him.
The grandfather clock in the foyer was just chiming at eleven bells as he made his way to the back doors. The hour was far later that he'd anticipated, and he briefly felt a surge of guilt at how long he'd shut himself away in his study, without even a good night to his guests, who he was sure had retired to their rooms. What they must think of him!
He shook his head. He vowed to make it up to them. He'd been a rather ghastly host, as he knew his divided attention had leaned more towards his children since Max and Elsa had arrived, but he couldn't quite find himself remorseful for it, not when he hadn't been so happy in a very, very long time. Still, he was determined that come morning, he would set aside some time for Max and Elsa, as he knew the latter was likely growing impatient with his increasing absence in her company.
There was a gentle breeze when Georg opened the door, and it felt like a soft summer's kiss. It caressed his face as he stepped into the inky night, lit only by the moon and the stars and a few distant lights flickering somewhere across the lake
He'd managed to close the door behind him softly and get two steps out onto the veranda before he noticed another body just off to his right. Though it was dark, he was certain he'd have known that figure anywhere.
Her back was to him as she leaned her forearms against the balustrade, gazing out at the lake. The wide sleeves of her dress billowed softly in the breeze, and the bright light of the moon made her look almost ethereal.
He was still for several moments, scarcely daring to draw breath. His chest lurched at her unexpected presence, and he briefly wondered if he'd fallen asleep at his desk. The dress was all wrong and the setting was different, but the glow that emanated from her was unmistakably familiar.
It's just the moonlight, he told himself to slow the rapid beating of his heart, nothing ethereal or unnatural about it.
Much like in his dreams, his feet moved slowly as he approached her, his body warring between the relief of seeing her up and seemingly well, and the wariness that this scene was eerily familiar. It was a dangerous combination.
"Good evening, Fraulein," he spoke softly, relieved to hear the sound of his own voice. He'd never been able to speak in his dreams – not until the end – and he'd only ever been able to say one word.
To her credit, she did not jump at this new, unexpected presence sidling up next to her. Her gaze snapped to him for the briefest of moments.
Those striking blue eyes looking up at him, so full of innocence.
His shudder was involuntary.
"Good evening, Captain," she said a little sheepishly, and his nerves began to calm considerably when his given name did not pass her lips. Not a dream, then. "I do apologize. I was not aware that anyone else was up."
There was a somberness in her face that hadn't been there earlier, he could see it now that he was next to her. Even in the darkness, he could make out her furrowed brow and frown.
"No need to apologize," he told her firmly. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "you have free reign of the grounds, and if you did not, I'm sure that you would find a way to utilize them anyways."
He'd expected a soft chuckle in response to his light teasing, or at the very least a rebuttal of sorts, as he'd become accustomed to in recent days, but he received neither. She simply looked down at her hands, her fingers flexing. Perhaps she was still feeling unwell.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently, hearing his heart pound in the silence that followed. He could practically see her mind at work as she contemplated an answer to a question that truly required no contemplation. It set him on edge.
"I'm fine, Captain," she said none too convincingly. He frowned. Something about the way she wouldn't meet his eye bothered him greatly.
"You were missed at dinner," he stated evenly. Her hands clasped together tightly before she released them, choosing to grip the balustrade instead. He could just make out the whitening of her knuckles as her grip tightened.
"The heat must have exhausted me," she told him dismissively. "I am sorry that I was unable to perform my duties this evening."
It was the first note of sincerity that he'd heard from her voice since she'd spoken.
"I am not upset about that," he said, leaning his own forearms against the balustrade. "I simply wanted to make sure that you were well."
She nodded once, but did not speak. It was clear that she had come out looking for the same sort of solitude he had, and his presence was ruining that. The wise thing to do would be to turn right around and go back inside to retire to his room. That is what propriety demanded of him.
Instead, against his better judgment, he added, "the children were worried."
Her gaze remained straight ahead at the lake, refusing to meet his eyes as his own gaze bore into her profile, studying her.
"I'm perfectly all right now, sir. A little bit of rest was exactly what I needed," she spoke softly. She didn't even spare him glance. She didn't even try to make it sound convincing, and it sparked something in Georg's chest – that tiny itch that he simply couldn't reach
He continued to look upon her unguarded, as her attention was clearly on anything but him. She certainly didn't look as if she were ill. Her face was no longer flushed, and she held herself steady. There was no trembling, no sweat on her brow. While the downturn curve of her lips was rather uncharacteristic, he couldn't find anything in the way she looked to indicate that she was unwell.
She looked pensive.
She looked beautiful.
He wanted to smack himself. The similarity of the scene before him to those wretched dreams that plagued his subconscious were toying with him.
Deciding he would not allow that train of though to continue any further, he turned his gaze to the lake, admiring the glow of the moon reflecting off the lake's surface. He felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate slowly as he focused on the ripples of the water. He could hear it lapping against the edge of the stone steps.
"Perhaps you should have taken a swim with us after all," he broke the silence. She let out a small sigh.
"You might be right," she replied.
"Why didn't you?" he inquired, turning his gaze to her once more. She ducked her head slightly.
"I'm afraid that I am not much of a swimmer," she repeated her earlier statement. He knew it was a lie, just as he'd known when she'd made such a statement earlier that afternoon. He knew a few things about his children's governess for certain – she was outspoken and boisterous, she'd had a rather miserable upbringing, she loved his children, and she adored the outdoors in every capacity. He highly doubted that she did not know how to swim.
"I see," he said. "And what, may I ask, would you have done had the boat capsized in the deeper part of the lake?"
She was caught in her lie, and she knew it, he could tell by the darkening of her cheeks that was just barely visible. They were both well aware that she would not put his children into a dangerous position. He may not have always believed that, but he firmly believed in her fierce adoration for his children now. She'd be a fool to take a boat into a lake with his children and not be able to swim well enough to haul one of them out of the water should anything have happened.
"I can swim," she amended, casting him a quick sidelong glance. His heart stuttered. It was the most she'd looked at him – of her own volition – practically all day. "I just don't do it often."
It wasn't entirely the truth, he could tell that much, but he wouldn't push her on the issue. It had crossed his mind that her vocation had something to do with her reluctance earlier. Not for the first time, he wondered how she had come to the decision to live the rest of her life in that Abbey.
But that wasn't for him to contemplate on.
"I think the children enjoyed themselves," he spoke after a moment, hoping to bring the conversation back on even footing. He was desperate to bring her out of whatever shell she had crawled into, if only to be certain that she was truly alright.
"They certainly looked happy out there," she said fondly, causing his chest to lurch once more. "So did Herr Detweiler."
"Oh, he was included in the 'children' category," he told her. The softest giggle sounded from her lips, and it made his chest swell with a pride he knew was entirely inappropriate to feel. However, it felt entirely safe under the cover of darkness to allow himself to feel it, just for a moment.
A silence settled over them as they both looked out to the tiny specks of lights dotted across the lake. He wasn't used to this strain in their conversations – not since those first couple of days since their argument out by the lake before them. Everything had seemed so easy since then, dreams notwithstanding.
Though he was careful not to blatantly seek her out, they'd begun having brief, but routine conversations about the children's progress. What had started out as progress reports had slowly delved into engaging conversation, in which Georg was delighted to find the governess to be incredibly witty. He'd come to respect her opinion and advice immensely, and he'd believed there was some balance of trust forming between them.
The strained silence now was a far cry from the companionable peace they'd built in the weeks since he'd returned from Vienna.
He tried to pay it no mind, instead focusing on the beautiful evening that it had turned out to be. The reprieve from the blazing heat was nothing short of euphoric. As much as he was certain he had long overstayed his welcome in the eyes of what propriety demanded, Georg couldn't quite force himself to walk away, not when the cool breeze softened the edges of the irritation that had consumed him for the better part of the evening.
He couldn't be certain how long they stood like that, neither one of them saying a word, and both lost to their own minds. When she broke the silence, it startled him a little.
"Are you all right Captain?" she asked. It was certainly not a question he'd been expecting. He frowned, brows furrowing.
"Whyever wouldn't I be?" he inquired, perplexed. He couldn't recall being particularly harsh during their conversation, nor could he recall displaying any signs of being unwell. He was lost at how such a question had come to the forefront of her mind.
"Forgive me, it's not my place to speculate, it's only that you seem…"
"Yes?" he urged her on when she trailed off. "Please, Fraulein, do not be afraid to be brazen with me now."
"You seem tired," she replied after a beat. She cast him another sidelong glance, just long enough to gauge his reaction before looking away, leaving him reeling.
He paused at that. There was quite a bit of truth in that statement. There was a weariness that had set deep in his bones from a number of things starting with his reconciliation efforts with his children and ending with those blasphemous dreams. But was he really so transparent? He thought he'd hid it well, that he'd kept active enough for no one to notice. Could everyone tell just how worn down he was? Was he far easier to read than he'd anticipated?
"The dangers of keeping up with seven children, I'm afraid," he replied coolly. "In fact, I don't understand how you aren't nearly falling over from exhaustion each day."
She nodded but took her bottom lip between her teeth. She was clearly contemplating something but was hesitant to voice it allowed. It was so very unlike her.
"Out with it, Fraulein," he demanded. She turned fully towards him, and he finally caught the bright blue gaze he'd been bereft of all day. His breath caught in his chest before he reminded himself to inhale evenly.
"Is that all?" she asked. "I mean, is it only the children?"
The concern in her voice threw him. She'd practically avoided him all day, barely daring to make eye contact. Even now, their conversation had felt stilted and uncomfortable, and there was clearly something going on with her that she wasn't willing to share with him. She'd dismissed all of his concerns over her well-being only to fuss over his.
He should be outraged by her audacity to overstep, and perhaps a couple of weeks ago he might have been. But the Fraulein was nothing if not outspoken, and after all, he'd pushed her to ask the question.
The trouble was, he wasn't sure how to answer it. There were many things that had plagued him, and yes, that included the children – whether he was attentive enough, whether he'd answered their questions adequately, whether he'd atoned enough to be their father again, or if they were simply just waiting for the next whistle to blow. This, she knew. This, he knew, was not what she was asking.
He could lie, end the conversation there, and bid her goodnight. He ought to, of that, he was sure. But something tugged in the corners of his mind. He couldn't tell her everything, that was for certain, but there was something tender about the way that she regarded him. It made him want to throw caution to the wind, just once, and allow himself to speak his mind.
He turned back out to the lake, leaning heavily on the balustrade. His posture, he was sure, left something to be desired in polite society, but it felt relieving to let his shoulders sag just for a moment.
"Fraulein," he spoke, as he could feel her gaze regarding him curiously now that his attention was off her, "do you ever feel as though the world is disappearing before our very eyes?"
"I think that it's impossible to not feel that way at times, sir," she replied kindly. He shot her a soft smile.
"This is my home. This is where I met my wife, raised my children. I've fought for this land. I've seen men I've thought the world of die for this country," he spoke into the night quietly, focusing solely on the peak of the mountain in the distance to steady his nerves. "It's as if it is all slipping away from me now."
The gentle hum of crickets fills the silence. She was no longer looking at him. When he stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye, he found her to be in a similar position as he was, though several inches away. He couldn't entirely tell, but he was certain her gaze was trained on the same mountain.
He wondered if he said too much, if perhaps this was all beyond her. He was fairly certain that nuns had no political ideations – only devotion to God.
He felt his heart sink marginally. A part of him was curious as to what she might say. Beneath all the rebellious nature and playful attitude, there was a wisdom about her that was beyond her years. It had snuck up in conversations about the children, but he'd caught it, and at times, latched on to it like a lifeline. She'd provided him with more clarity than she could possibly know about his family life, and he'd hoped – rather desperately, if he were honest – she might do the same here.
Just when he'd given up on that notion, her voice filled the dark space.
"I never wanted to believe that it might happen again. War," she stated. "We don't speak much of politics in Nonneburg, but some of the sisters talk. They say that the Germans are getting ready for something big."
He nodded. "They're trying to take our country from us."
"But that's so wrong!" she exclaimed.
"I agree wholeheartedly, Fraulein," he said, fists clenching against the cool stone. He could feel his temper begin to boil at no one in particular. "And some people think that they are entirely within their right to do so. Or worse, they don't care."
His mind drifted to Max and his flippant attitude towards the situation.
"And that is what has been bothering you?" she inquired, glancing to him once again. He met her eyes as he nodded.
"There are those that would claim it is best for us to roll over and take it. 'How bad could it be?'" he practically snarled. "I don't take kindly to threats that insinuating relieving us of our sovereignty."
"Nor should you," she replied. "Is it really going to happen? Is Germany really going to invade?"
"I have a few sources who believe that Germany is planning to mobilize rather quickly. They just don't know when," he muttered, fingers flexing against the cool stone beneath him in an attempt to anchor himself to something, lest he float away in his own ocean of anger and grief.
"That is a terrifying prospect, Captain," she told him gravely. He nodded once, a part of him immensely grateful that she agreed with him, that she seemed genuine. She was not placating him with vague statements like everyone else. Perhaps that's why he'd felt safe enough to speak again.
"I will be called to serve," he added quietly. Her gaze snapped to his face, the horror plain across her features.
"But they can't! They can't ask you to-to-,"
"To serve a cause that I do not believe in? To fight for a country that has destroyed my own? They can, and they will. It is only a matter of time," he stated, staring straight out at the lake so as not to direct his anger at her.
"As unfortunate as it is, I cannot escape it. Though, I cannot imagine going through with it," he said quietly.
"And you should not have to," she said firmly. That give him pause. He hadn't dared bring such a prospect up to anyone but Max, who had quietly, but firmly, suggested that he accept the post when it came.
"But the children-,"
"Cannot be without their father. Not now," she said, firmly – commanding even. Though the topic distressed him, he felt the briefest surge of joy at seeing that spark in her once more.
"And what do you propose I do? Risk being thrown in prison for refusing? Or worse? God knows what will happen to them then," he told her, his voice taking on a miserable bite.
She's quiet at that. He knows that this situation is so far out of her experience. He's seen war. He knows war. He knows the way it rips families apart. He knows the way it chews men up and spits them out to the hollow shells of themselves – and that was if they were lucky. He knows that fighting for a side that he wants nothing to do with will leave him far less than he ever was.
She did not. He believed that she'd faced trials in her youth, most of which he couldn't be certain of the details, but she still had a pureness about her – an innocence untouched by the spoils of war and tyranny.
"Would you ever leave?" she asked. He glanced at her quizzically.
"Leave?"
"Austria? I know you love it, Captain, but you said yourself that it felt as though it was slipping away from you, and I can't even begin what to think might happen to you or the children should you have to serve the German Navy. Would it not be safer to go away somewhere?"
The thought had crossed his mind. Of course it had. But every time he tried to develop some sort of plan – where would they go? How would they get there undetected? – a sadness so deep in his chest threatened to toss him overboard.
The mother of his children was buried here.
"And where do you suggest we go, Fraulein? If the Nazis take over, I have no doubt that many corners of the world will feel the impact and react," he told her, his hands clenching into fists.
The silence that followed was not one that could easily be filled. The governess was at a loss of how to help the family who had – except for a couple of incidents near the beginning – been so kind to her and whom she had come to care for with a ferocity. The captain was at a loss to control his temper, the way he always had when it came to talk over the impending Anschluss and what that meant for his family's future.
He wasn't angry with Fraulein Maria. Not in the slightest. If anything, her reaction had been more outraged and more emotional than anyone else he had spoken to about it, and for that, he respected her greatly. He was tired of people brushing it off as if it were an impossible event, or worse, accepting it as if it could possibly be bearable. To have someone agree with him – to have someone understand what he was feeling to any degree – had vindicated him in some way.
He snuck a glance at the young woman next to him. The way she was worrying her bottom lip and fidgeting worried him to some degree. Had he upset her?
"I didn't mean to burden you with this talk, Fraulein," he said softly after a moment, finally having some control over the fury that had laced his tone. She offered him a gentle smile, one that did not quite reach her eyes.
"Not at all, Captain," she replied. "I am glad you told me. It's just that- well…"
"Yes?" He prodded gently, praying that she would not go shy on him again, not when he'd just managed to pull her out of her shell.
"Well, we aren't supposed to vocalize our political beliefs. In the Abbey, I mean. We are taught that whatever is to happen is God's will, and we are to accept that. It isn't right for me to presume to-."
"Fraulein," he stopped her, turning fully towards her. "I am glad that you voiced your opinion. It makes me feel a little less alone in my convictions."
She tried to hide the small smile spreading across her face, but he caught it before it was gone. It felt like victory, in some small sense. She may not have been able to give him the clarity that he so desperately longed for – though he was sure no one could – but she'd managed to become less timid with him, which had lifted his spirits just enough to pull him from the dangerous mood he'd been at risk of falling into.
"Your secret is safe with me," he offered. She nodded gratefully.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, giving him a small smile before glancing out to the lake once more. "Though I supposed it is getting quite late."
"Yes, it wouldn't do for you to be late for breakfast, again," he told her, smiling gently as she rolled her eyes at him. He should have taken it as insubordination. Instead, he felt a surge of warmth flow through his veins. That's more like the Fraulein Maria I know. Gone was the shy young lady, replaced with the defiant governess who gave as good as she got.
"I would like to see you try to get Louisa out of bed and still have enough time to prepare yourself to be down to breakfast on time," she retorted. He chuckled in response.
"Careful, Fraulein. If you challenge me, I may accept, and I would hate to see you lose so catastrophically in front of the children," he said, smirking at the way she rolled her eyes at him again. He felt the scales balance out again, and despite the world seemingly coming to an end, a sort of peace began to ease the tension in his body.
"Something tells me that you wouldn't hate it at all," she replied. He gave her a half-hearted shrug, but his smirk stayed firmly in place. He watched as her smile fell after a moment, but it did not turn into a frown. There was no more somberness tracing the edges of her features. It was as if their conversation had answered some sort of question for her, and now knowing the answer, she had been freed. Though he had no clue what could have comforted her in their talks about a German occupation, he was glad to see her features had relaxed considerably.
"Goodnight, Captain," she said after a moment.
"Goodnight, Fraulein," he told her. She began to make her way to the doors. He refused to let his gaze follow her in, choosing to stare firmly at the lake. He'd already severely overstayed his welcome in her presence beyond what was deemed appropriate. He wouldn't risk the temptation to follow her in, no matter if his intentions were completely innocent. He had no doubt that Franz was still lurking about in the halls.
"Captain?" Her voice called from the door. Like a gravitational force he couldn't quite understand, his body straightened and turned to face her fully.
"Yes?" he inquired gently.
"I know the world feels like it's slipping away, and that everything is becoming shrouded in darkness," she said carefully, "but please remember that the sun will always rise tomorrow."
He almost chuckles at how simple the words are, but they strike a chord deep within his heart. He'd been lost in his own darkness for so long, that he'd forgotten that very fact, and he'd dragged the people he'd loved most into that darkness with him. This gentle reminder from Fraulein Maria couldn't fix anything – it wouldn't stop the Anschluss from happening, nor did it make him feel any more in control of the world around him – but it did remind him that there were moments to find joy in each and every day. He would not take that for granted ever again.
"Indeed, it will, Fraulein," he replied reverently, in something akin to a promise. She offered him one last smile – this one genuine and bright and a reassurance he hadn't known that he needed.
With that, she slipped through the door, shutting it quietly behind her, leaving him to the stars. He smiled to himself, feeling lighter than he had in hours.
He felt much calmer than he had when he'd originally stepped out into the night in search of solitude. He wasn't sure what it was particularly. Perhaps it was just that his incessant worrying had been proven to be unnecessary, as Fraulein Maria was in fine health. Perhaps it was that he'd finally been able to be open about his political fears without entirely losing his temper or being brushed off. Or perhaps, it was just the fresh air that had eased his nerves.
Whatever it was, it had soothed that itch in his chest considerably.
It was a pity that it wouldn't last.
Firstly, to those of you who have left comments, favourites, follows, and who have dropped me a PM over the years, thank you. I adore you all.
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I'm not sure that I did it justice, but I simply could not keep staring at it any longer. I wrote and rewrote it several times. The political themes felt a little too heavy given the current state of the world, but this chapter was always intended to brush on that topic. I do apologize if it was sensitive to any readers.
Now, I had big plans for this story back when I first published it on here. It's an overdone concept, but I adore the retellings of the little moments when our favourite governess and captain fall in love. If you recall, I mentioned something about a twist happening somewhere down the line, however, as I reviewed my initial outline, I do believe that this story is going to firmly stay as a sort of companion piece to the in between moments of the movie (with some creative liberties taken here and there). There is so much I want to explore that I don't believe I would be able to if I threw in my initial plot twist. Though, I would not be opposed to writing a separate piece with that plot twist, if there are those of you who would still like to read it. It would likely be a short story with a few chapters (if I can manage to keep my word count under control!)
As it stands, this story is outlined to continue through all the missing pieces of the movie, right up to the end, with plenty of delicious moments in store (which means this story is either going to go well beyond the initial 30 chapters that were planned, or it will be broken up into three parts, I have not decided yet). I cannot guarantee absolute consistency, as the world is a crazy place right now, but I have been very dedicated to cleaning up the outline and giving myself a solid reference point to write from. This has been a work in progress for the last couple of months.
For those of you who have read Fire on Fire and are waiting for an update, I unfortunately do not have one at this time. I will never say never, but at this time, my efforts are not focused there as I have a lot of gripes with how I allowed that story to unfold. But who knows, maybe getting back into this story will inspire me to finish off that one.
I promise this will get better as I get my writing groove back. I have some really fun chapters planned out for the future, so I hope that you'll bear with me!