Just a little piece originally inspired by TSOM's "Something Good" and a good ol' dash of curiosity (and my obsession over things that come full circle). Not exactly A/U, but a lot of creative license applied (I imagine many stars would have imploded for the rest to align and probably something funky happened between Mars and Saturn if this encounter actually occurred).

Thank you to augiesannie for helping me work through some early stage conundrums.

As always, all comments and feedback welcome!

Chapter One

Maria

It was a Sunday. Maria remembered it was Sunday, because there had been no school.

As usual, she had snuck out early in the morning to escape – no, avoid her uncle. She knew from the heavy snoring she could hear through his thin wooden door he had spent the night drinking at the tavern again. While trying on his better days, Maria had no doubt her uncle would be particularly surly and prone to violent outbursts when he woke up nursing a wicked hangover.

Sometimes, on Sundays, Maria would spend the morning sitting along the old brick wall across the street from the local church. She enjoyed listening to the tolling of the old bells in the steeple, and sometimes, when they left the doors open, she could catch a few phrases of the minister's deep voice conducting his sermon. But what she really loved was the singing of the hymns. With the voices of the choir and entire congregation raised in song, Maria would let the music wash over her and imagine she was listening to her own private concert.

But today was a gorgeous spring day, and Maria rather felt like being a part of nature. She wanted to get away from the buildings and the roads and the hurried sounds of carriages full of people who had somewhere to go. She didn't admit that part of her restlessness stemmed from watching the two girls who had been walking a little ahead of her, arm-in-arm like Maria used to do with her mother, dressed in their Sunday best. Maria had no Sunday best – she wore her usual coarse, plain dress and stockings with the hole in the toes. That was okay, because no tree nor brook nor bird cared what she wore. But desperately she longed for someone she could link arms with as they walked together laughing down the street.

Maria spent the day in the meadows on the far side of the city from her uncle's crowded neighborhood. There, the wide streets of the wealthy part of Vienna gave way to grassy expanses and groves of birch trees. With no-one to reprimand her, Maria took off her hat, scarf, and shoes, and set them aside. Feeling free for the first time all week, she danced through the tall grass, and followed the gurgling of the stream, giving in to the magic of the warm spring air.

Life is in the little things, her father used to say. They would take long evening walks together, watching the moon rise over the countryside, listening to the lonely call of geese flying overhead. Remember this, he would tell her. Or they would go into town, and walk along the main street, her sitting on his shoulders, admiring the beautiful store-front displays. He might buy her a small trinket, wrapped in a bit of brown paper. In the winter, her father would let her pick out a warm apple strudel from their favourite bakery, and together they would sit at the window, watching sleighs full of merry holiday revelers go by, fairy-like bells tinkling as the horses picked their way carefully down the road. Remember this, he would say.

It had been many years since those memories, but Maria remembered every moment, and even though life was very different these days, she always reminded herself of the little things.

By the time she sat down for lunch, the hemline of her dress was soaked and a little dirty, and the hole in her stocking was rather larger than before. She only had with her a bit of bread and a small jar of jam. Maria's uncle never starved her, but with spending days at his factory job and nights at the tavern, he rarely had much time or money for the store. More often than not, he left her a few dimes on the table, and she would stop by the local baker after school for some bread, butter for him and jam for her, and call it a meal. But today, she feasted on the feeling of grass under her feet, the sounds of the bubbling brook, the fresh breeze that wafted from the mountains in the distance, and felt perfectly satisfied. She felt happy here. Safe. And it made her want to sing.

When Maria saw that the sun had begun to set and heard the bells of the distant Stephansdom tolling the late hour, Maria reluctantly gathered her shoes and hat, trying not to let her feet drag as she left her meadows for the dreary house she shared with her uncle. He didn't care much where she went or when she went home, but Maria always made sure she left enough time for her nightly book. She knew when she entered the house, her uncle would yell at her. He always seemed to be angry with someone or something – his work, the neighbors, the rising cost of a pint, the Church, the woman he met at the tavern – and never hesitated to give her an earful, bellowing the most colorful curse words that made her want to cover her ears. But Maria always endured his outbursts meekly, reminding herself at the hardest of times her uncle had taken her in after her parents' death, when he really didn't have to. There was something good about him. I am grateful, she would chant to herself, drowning him out. And afterward, she would climb into bed and read, finding comfort in the beautiful words, getting lost in worlds of adventure and history, dashing heroes and happy endings, and then things didn't seem so bad.

As Maria walked past the large properties where the wealthy lived in Vienna, a brightly lit mansion shining through double iron-wrought gates caught her attention. She could see a long driveway opening onto a luxuriously manicured garden and a beautiful, stately house. She stopped, for she could hear the most glorious and lively music of an orchestra from within, playing a well-known folk song set to an upbeat tempo.

Maria was enthralled. She had many happy memories of her parents, but in her happiest ones, her father played the fiddle while her mother sang, and then one of them would spin across the room to catch her up in a dance. Their house was always filled with music. Maria knew that where there was music, there was laughter, and love. And this was the most beautiful music she'd ever heard. Her imagination quickly furnished a gold-gilded ballroom, a full orchestra, women in beautiful dresses with sparkling glasses of champagne, and a handsome boy offering his hand for a dance. In response, Maria curtsied, swept up her skirts, and started to sway in time with the music.

A loud banging of the gate snapped her out of her reverie. She looked up with huge eyes, heart jumping into her throat, thinking someone must have discovered her unwelcomed presence. But it was just a young woman in a beautiful white dress who, judging by her frantic footsteps and trailing blue sash, had just run through the gate and slammed it shut with force. For a second, Maria stood, arrested by this vision. The material of the dress was soft and flowing, delicately embroidered and sparkling with precious jewels, offsetting the girl's creamy skin and long auburn hair. Maria always had a bit of a weakness for pretty things, and in the moment, she thought this girl in her white dress was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.

Then, Maria realized the girl's eyes must be filled with tears, for she had run straight past her and not noticed her at all, and Maria thought she heard a half-strangled sob.

The girl had just taken a few hurried steps down the road when a frantic voice cried from the yard. "Wait!" Another young woman wearing a deep red dress and matching bolero appeared at the inside on the gate, grabbing the bars. "Where are you going?"

Maria quietly slipped off the path behind the nearest tree, not wanting to be seen.

"I'm leaving, Catherine!"

"Wait!" The girl called Catherine pleaded again. "Don't be ridiculous! Oh! But this is your favourite song!"

Maria quickly covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. She could clearly hear the song the orchestra was now playing. It was the Edelweiss waltz, and it was her favourite song, too. Her father and mother would always dance together to this song, wherever it played, looking adoringly at each other the entire time. She knew it was really a dedication to Austria, but to her, it would always be a song for lovers.

"I don't care! Actually, I hate this song. And I don't want to spend another minute in there, with him!"

"You don't have to spend it with him! Anyways, you haven't given him a chance to explain – "

"I came to this dratted party for him to explain, and instead I find him – "

"Maybe there's a reason – "

"Don't you dare defend him, Catherine!" The girl's voice had risen to a shout, her face contorting with anger.

"I'm not even - " Catherine held up her hands. "Alright, alright, I won't talk about him. But you don't even know where you're going!"

At this, the girl in the white dress glared defiantly at her friend. "I can find my way back to the hotel. I was raised in Milan. And London, I might add. I can handle this little city."

Maria almost snorted. This young woman might be very beautiful, but she also sounded a little snobby.

"Your father will be so mad when he comes for you!"

"Just tell him I left early."

"And make him boiling mad? I certainly won't!" Catherine scoffed. "Your father gets frightfully angry. Just come back… please? He's leaving tomorrow anyways – you don't need to see him again."

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. The girl in white threw up her hands, and when she spoke, Maria knew from the despair in her voice that the argument was over. "Just – just don't. Leave me alone, please. Go back to the party." With that, she turned and continued down the path, ignoring her friend's sputters.

Maria glanced toward the gate, where Catherine was watching her friend's retreating back with a look of exasperation. Finally, she turned, and started to walk up the long driveway back to the house.

When Maria slipped back onto the path, the girl in white had disappeared around the corner. She hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. There was something undeniably romantic about heartbreak, and Maria was bursting with curiosity about the story behind it. It seemed her feet were taking her after the girl of their own accord.

But she made herself stop. Think, Maria told herself sternly. She should go home, she knew. That was the sensible course of action. She never had any occasion to speak to these wealthy people, even though she'd pass them downtown from time to time, juggling expensive shopping bags and reeking of perfumes. It seemed Vienna's aristocracy existed in an entirely different world altogether, and why would they stoop to the level of her? And she shouldn't meddle, anyways. According to her teachers, she was always meddling, getting into scrapes.

She sighed. Her mother never said she was meddling. Ask questions, make friends, be honest, don't be afraid, she would tell Maria. Of course, her brilliant, vibrant mother also had a gift for making people like her, and Maria wasn't sure she could say the same. But underneath her curiosity, she felt a peculiar, irresistible pulling toward this strange girl, who loved the same song she did. Pursing her lips in sudden decision, Maria took off deliberately after her.