A/N on the last chapter: Before I present the next instalment, I just want to clarify why I thought it was necessary that G and M let each other go. I do believe that love is all about WHEN it happens, and sometimes, one partner is not in the right place and it's just not meant to be. I sort of designed the premise of this story around this concept. When G and M first meet, they both have a past and an awful lot of baggage, so to speak, and they're each fighting their own battles. The same way that G would never have been able to realize his love for M if he hadn't accepted and worked through his own past, M is also fighting, both internal and external factors, and you can't convince someone that "love conquers all" before they've worked it out for themselves. And it was really up to G to do the right thing - as they say, "if you love someone, let them go..."

Anyhow, this chapter is long, and still a little bit rough around the edges, I think (may be polished over time and with repeated readings...) - but I was just so excited to put it together because THIS. IS. THE. LAST. CHAPTER! Whoo! For the last time, I hope you enjoy! xx

Chapter 16

A New Beginning

It was an unusually warm day for the end of June. The windows of the quaint Viennese summerhouse were open, and the very air that blew into the house felt baked.

From where he sat on the sofa in the parlor, he could see the lush garden – elaborately manicured by Elsa's personal gardener, a wide expanse of Viennese countryside beyond, and the faint traces of mountains in the distance. It was quiet, although he could hear the occasional chirp of birdsong. Georg had to admit the home was to his taste, as Elsa had assured him it would be, although he initially objected to the idea of renting a summerhouse at all.

Georg sat alone, drinking afternoon tea. He had never been much of a tea drinker, but now he found himself clinging to the idea religiously.

The way he and Maria had tea in the musty old staffroom on rainy afternoons.

He sighed. He had last seen her months ago – it had been the beginning of spring, then – but somehow, his mind persisted in thinking of her as if she were still in his life. She'd gone, but he continued to be spellbound, fascinated by the trail of light and hope and good she'd left in her wake.

Remembering Maria wasn't painful, per se, the way it'd been when he'd lost his first – only, his mind amended – wife. In fact, his memories of her had been a kind of tonic, a pale resemblance to the woman she had been. Thinking of her brought a sense of relief, an odd clarity to his days. Of course, Maria would have done this. She would have wanted that. He knew her, intimately, even though she was gone.

And he spent his time, holding his constant, exhausting longing at arms length, fighting to move through each day without falling into those memories.

That first night had been the most difficult. Georg had arrived home from her apartment – alive, against all odds, given how recklessly he'd been driving – and headed straight to the liquor cabinet in his office, wanting nothing more than to numb the pain, to stop feeling. His hand was already on the decanter before he forced himself to stop.

He stopped, and thought of her.

He wouldn't. Not this time. If he started down this path again, he would undo everything Maria had worked so hard to give him. She would be disappointed. She would be angry. She would despise him. As broken as he might be, he wasn't dead yet. And Georg had promised himself that only when Charon came to retrieve him would he let go of his children.

A better father. A better man. Because of her.

And so, Georg sprawled across the armchair in his office, too exhausted to entertain the thought of movement. The room was dark – he had not bothered getting up to turn on any of the lamps. He supposed he was hungry, but the gnawing feeling was in his chest, not his gut. Hungry, for a future he's desperately wanted and yet had to let go.

He lay there through the night, and mourned, and held himself together with the most tenacious of grasps.

He wasn't crushed by the weight of year,s this time around. With Maria, he'd only had months. He'd only had walks, and talks, breathless kisses and dizzying desires. But perhaps that made it all the worse, knowing the time that could have been theirs. Georg could see it all – their wedding, their honeymoon, and then, endless days together, an ordinary couple with an extraordinary love. He could picture their frenzied lovemaking, full of passion, their arguments when their stubborn tempers got the better of them. They could parent the children together. Have children of their own (would it have her eyes, or perhaps his nose?) Grow old together.

It was a fool's errand. After all, Maria was alive, and with some time, would be well, too. She was young. She would have these experiences. Just not in Salzburg. Not with him.

And he? He would just have to learn to live without it.

Without her.

The days stretched before him, not unbearable – she'd taught him a better way to live – but flat. Colourless. A life without Maria.

Georg sighed, taking a sip of lukewarm tea he'd let sit for far too long. He'd been sitting far too long.

Another summer.

Another month of sweltering, hot days in Vienna.

It was as though fate was trying to convince him this past year had not happened at all.

At this junction Max strolled in, looking jaunty in a casual suit, an answer in his own right. Max, at the very least, had matured – although it seemed an absurd thing to say of a man almost fifty. He had lost weight during his year in Aigen, and it gave his face a more chiseled, serious look. He appeared thoughtful as often as he did gleeful, and even his step had a more weighted quality.

Max had not returned to Vienna, even though he'd resigned his position on the Salzburg school board. He claimed the fallout from Maria's departure had become too hot to handle, although Georg though he could detect from time to time two things he'd never seen on his old friend's face – guilt, and something akin to solidarity. Even as Georg prepared to leave for Vienna, Max opted to stay. Somebody had to keep the villa in order, he'd said, jokingly. Georg had agreed, knowing deep down that Max would keep an eye on the children, and in gratitude, never again said a word about the depletion of his liquor cabinet. But Max was a frequent visitor to the summerhouse, and a couple of weeks ago revealed that he had been hired to manage a prestigious boarding school in Munich for the new year.

He invited Max to sit with him, and listened to Max relate the latest conquests and squabbles between the children. He produced a large scrapbook the children had put together as a goodbye present for him. Georg examined the pages, filled with drawings and letters to 'uncle Max', and felt a pang at the thought of the villa without Max. Despite his old friend's assertions that they were family, Georg felt he had only gotten to know the true Max this past year – knew what he was capable of, and where he stood. In a way, Max had kept the family afloat as much as he had. The children had already lost Maria, and now they were losing Max.

He tried to push that thought away. They would be okay.

Georg himself called the villa almost every night, speaking with all his children in turn. He took extra time with Liesl, who was taking the lead in caring for her siblings. How grown up she suddenly seemed! He felt a moment's guilt over how far away he was from them all, before remembering it was Liesl who had encouraged him to go in the first place. And the children had even spent a week with him here in the summerhouse, much to their delight. Georg had found himself enjoying their daily outings, too. As she would have wanted him to.

The serving maid brought Max his third cup of espresso, and he had just started telling Georg about the young man who would be replacing him on the board, when Elsa walked through the door with a breezy "good afternoon, darlings." She paused impressively at the entrance as the maître d' collected her large sunhat.

"Dear lord Elsa, what on Earth is that?" Max asked by way of greeting, eyeing the chaotically large bouquet of flowers in her arms.

"Wildflowers, Maxie," Elsa replied without missing a beat, leaning over to give Georg a peck on the cheek. "Where would you like these, darling?"

"Thank you." He smiled warmly at her. The juxtaposition of the bouquet she was holding – sweet mountain flowers spilling down the sides and fighting against their ties – against her satin afternoon blouse spoke volumes to the effort she was making for his sake. He doubted Elsa, whose admirers dealt exclusively in the exotic, could tell the difference between an arnica and a gentian.

Elsa surrendered the flowers over to him, before settling on the couch next to Max.

Georg took the bouquet into the kitchen, hunting for a vase, the low drone of Max and Elsa's conversation fading into the background. In the late spring, she had appeared with a giant bowl of edelweiss, bringing his thoughts immediately to a particular evening they'd had at the villa. Elsa and Max had both been there. And Maria had been there. The children had just finished their nightly performance and were crowded around Maria, and when he turned from the bar cart, she was holding out his old guitar. Please, she had said. And he had played her Edelweiss.

And now, this – bunches of flowers than looked like it came straight from the countryside. His countryside.

It reminded him of home. And it reminded him of her.

Had that been Elsa's intention all along? Georg didn't know how much she knew of Maria, or the scandal that had erupted just before she left. They never talked about the time she had spent in Aigen, apart from the time she had thanked him for taking care of her. Between her illness and his loss, there were too many sore spots to navigate. Elsa never mentioned Maria by name, but somehow, she seemed to understand what Maria had come to mean to him, and how much it was costing him to let her go.

Elsa had not seemed surprised when he called her from Aigen to make arrangements for his stay in Vienna. But she had persuaded him to take an out-of-the-way summerhouse, instead of his usual luxury suite.

Think of it as a retreat, not an escape, Georg, she had suggested when he hesitated.

And perhaps it was true. In a way, Elsa had offered him time. Time to spend with his memories of Maria, time to miss her, to want her, to love her, time to grieve over the future he could have had with her. Time to grasp what he still had to hold, and what he had to let go. Tucked away in a quiet corner of Vienna, without being triggered by Maria's presence everywhere in Aigen, without his anger threatening to boil over at everyone he encountered in Salzburg, Georg found that he had come to accept that life would go on, after all.

How did you know this is what I needed? He asked her once.

I know you, Georg.

Elsa too, seemed different from the Elsa Schraeder he used to know. She had always been intuitive, but he would never have before called her sensitive. Her presence had always been reassuring, but she had never been comforting. But now she dropped by, unannounced and frequently, as though she had cleared her schedule for him. They often sat in companionable silence, each reading a book, or quietly sipping a cup of tea. It was as though they were discovering a new way to be, together, and Georg found that he did not mind at all. If not entirely fulfilling, it was at least peaceful.

Maybe they were both getting old. If that was the case, he thought wryly, perhaps it was not such a terrible thing after all.

Having properly wrestled the flowers into a matching pair of vases, Georg returned to the parlor. As one, Max and Elsa looked up at him, suddenly wary, the sentence on Max's lips trailing into silence. Elsa looked flustered, and Max positively morose.

He had a pretty good idea what they had been talking about. He cleared his throat. "What news?"

He pretended not to see the way his friends glanced at each other as he crossed the area rug in three large strides back to his chair. "It's… Maria," Max said at last. "She's…"

Georg waited, but still Max hesitated.

"Is she… back in Salzburg?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "Did you see her?"

"She's in Salzburg," Max started, nodding. He cleared his throat, the words he had been about to say seemed to catch on his tongue. He looked to Elsa for help.

"Why?" Georg asked, more to himself. "Why would she come back? Why didn't she just take the money and go? There's nothing for her here – she doesn't need another stoning."

"You don't need to worry about that." Elsa's voice cut in, quiet and determined. She waited until he was looking at her. "Maria – she's entered the convent."

When Georg returned to Aigen mid-summer, his children crowded around him in welcome. He was reminded of the stark contrast to his return last year. Instead of hugs and yelps of joy, instead of Marta jumping into his arms, there had been awkward silence as children had stared at him in awe and disbelief.

Despite the heaviness that had surrounded him after learning of Maria's decision, he felt his heart warm. They would be okay.

They had a merry supper, the older ones smiling happily while the younger ones peppered him with innocent question about the allures of Vienna, which he answered in good humor, despite not having done any of it during his stay. He caught Liesl's eye, and gave her a warm smile and nod, as if in salute. She returned the smile with a girlish shrug, a partner in crime.

This time around, he was no longer alone.

A soft knock on his office door brought him out of his reverie, and he was startled to see the sky had already turned a gentle shade of pink.

It was the first morning since leaving Maria's apartment, and he had spent the entire night on the couch in his office, holding a vigil for a lost future.

Georg ran a hand through his mussed hair, then went from lying to standing so abruptly he saw stars. He cleared his throat. "Come in." His voice was gravelly from disuse.

The door creaked open, and he saw a sliver of dainty slippers and too-long arms and legs, hovering on the threshold as though unsure of what she would find.

He cleared his throat again. If he were to make good on his promise for the children, he couldn't retreat now. "Liesl – come in."

The door opened wider, and Liesl wandered in. She moved with hesitation, but he saw a mix of sadness, understanding, and determination in her eyes that told him this was a very different girl than the one he'd abandoned the first time.

He sat down again, patting the couch beside him. She sat, and he felt her body relax as he took her hand in his. She rested her head gingerly on his shoulder.

They were silent for a moment. Georg felt a sudden comfort in her presence, glad that she was his daughter, and that at least they still had this connection.

"You love Fraulein Maria very much, don't you?" Liesl's voice was earnest in the semi-darkness. "I can tell you do."

He paused, taken aback to hear the words said out loud, by one of his children. He decided to be honest. "Very much."

"I wish she didn't have to go away." Her voice was quiet, a bit muffled.

Georg exhaled, long and sad. "She wanted to say goodbye to you all… She wrote you a note."

He felt his daughter nod briefly against his shoulder. "I know she didn't want to go. She wouldn't have left us if she had a choice, would she?"

Georg shook his head. He hadn't given much thought to how he would explain her dismissal and sudden departure to the children. If he had, he would have been agonizing over how much truth to divulge. Would the younger ones be confused? Would the older ones misunderstand? Would the words simply choke painfully in his throat?

But he leaned into Liesl's embrace, and realized that no explanation was necessary. It was clear Liesl – and no doubt her siblings as well – had chosen to believe their own view of Fraulein Maria.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But I'd like to think not."

She was silent a long moment. "If you need to leave for a little while too, we understand."

Georg looked down at the top of her head in surprise. He had been prepared to hunker down and get on with life, if only for the children. If only to show them that no matter what happened, he would stay. But now here was his eldest daughter, almost shoving him out the door. And he knew that she did understand. Not only why he wanted to leave, but also that if he did leave, he would always come back. He would be there for them.

He shook his head. "I can't, Liesl. Your siblings…they wouldn't understand."

"Friedrich and I can help them," Liesl said, her voice a little stronger. "They'll be okay." He sighed, and she added. "We'll wait for you."

Georg leaned down until his head was resting against her hair. "We'll wait together. Wait for the sun to come out."

And they whispered together, as though a blond-haired, blue-eyed someone had put the thought directly into their minds. "It always does."

Georg did not want to think about church.

It was a Sunday, and Franz had gone to pick the children up from Sunday school. Georg himself had not attended church in years, and his children had not had much in the way of religious upbringing since Agathe's passing. It wasn't until Maria stayed with them did she encourage the idea of Sunday school, which the children took up enthusiastically. They would have been prevailed upon to fly to the moon, if it was Maria who suggested it, Georg had thought in amusement, then.

He had always known Maria attended church regularly, and despite her uncle's claims otherwise, she believed in its teachings. But he had never ever imagined that she would one day become a nun.

He remembered thinking that Maria had the kind of fierce devotion and sense of duty that led women to abandon worldly comforts to enter the service of God. But he couldn't imagine Maria, with her enormous capacity to love, with her adventurous spirit and big ideas, with so much to give the world, shrouded in a wimple and cloistered behind four stone walls. The very idea suffocated him.

While he wanted to support her, even now, wanted her to find a new beginning, wanted her to be happy, his mind continued to reject fiercely the idea of Maria as a nun.

Was it what she really wanted? Or had she, after enduring so much, finally stopped fighting and fled to a place where she knew she would be safe?

The thoughts haunted him. Smothered him. And finally, chased him from the villa as he awaited his children's return, and drove him to the mountains.

There, alone in the hills, with the fresh mountain air, brisk even in summer, with his tie loosened and his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, with the sun on his bare arms and dirt under his feet, Georg felt he might be able to breathe.

But was he alone?

A figure appeared on the far end of his hill, and he stopped, winded and startled. This side of the mountain was not a place that attracted tourists.

He watched her – for it was a her, as he could make out the silhouette of a fluttering skirt as the wind caught a hold of it – pick her way in his direction. Then her gait changed. He felt alarmed, her erratic, wobbling steps making him wonder if she had fallen ill, before realizing she was making little jumps like she was hopping stones to cross a stream, which, if he remembered the topography, was exactly what she was doing.

Something about her movements tugged at him, as though his mind was determined to see the woman who by all accounts no longer belonged to this outside world.

She moved with a sort of reckless abandon, and he could not be sure if she was dancing or running. As she drew closer, he made out her slender silhouette, sheathed in a grey and black striped frock, her roughly cut blond bob, the shape of her face and the spacing of her eyes and the delicate curve of her lips, although he should have been much too far away to make out her features.

Georg found himself holding his breath.

How could it be her?

He stood, transfixed, staring at her approaching figure. He saw the moment she noticed him. Saw her stop, saw her waver, before watching as she moved slowly toward him.

She was standing arms-reach in front of him.

He inhaled. And inhaled again. Taking her in, as though she were as vital to him as breathing. Maria herself was breathless, the rapid rise and fall of her chest distracting to him. She stood looking at him, unusually reserved, but neither did she look broken,the way she had when he last left her. Her eyes were as disarming as ever, and she was titling her chin in that challenging way that had become so intimately familiar to him.

They stared at each other.

"I – I thought you were to become a nun!" The words came out as a half-gasp.

Maria flushed a lovely pink. "Oh, Georg – I could never be a nun!"

Her voice held the same measure of incredulousness as his thoughts did when he pictured her as a nun. He could have shouted in relief. Instead, his breath came as a long exhale. "I heard from Max that you had entered the convent, and I – "

He broke off. And I just didn't want to believe it.

She shook her head. "I'm staying at Nonnberg Abbey," Maria started to explain, then paused, looking at him as though in reassurance. As though she knew he had been wondering how Max had, for the first time in his life, gotten his news so twisted. "The Sisters took me in out of kindness because I – I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Georg frowned, bewildered. "You were in Salzburg this entire time?"

"No. I had hired a car, but I didn't know where I was going. I – I was too worked up to make any plans." Maria looked down, but not before he caught the look of pain that flashed across her face. "Herr Detweiler told me I should head for Munich. He said if I was having trouble, he had connections in Munich, and I was to let him know. I got to Teisendorf – it was my first time across the border – and I… I just couldn't keep going. It didn't feel right. Something was wrong. And so I – I came back."

Georg had blanched. "You came back… after all… that?" After all they did to you?

"At first I didn't want to see anybody," she admitted. "I stayed in the room the Sisters had given me for days."

He saw her swallow, and felt his chest constrict. Those early days apart had been dark enough for him, in his Viennese retreat, with Elsa's best delicacies at his disposal. He could only imagine what Maria had gone through, alone, stripped of everything she had known – as though she was serving penitence for a crime she did not commit. "And then?"

"Then? Well, I knew I couldn't hide from my problems forever." The beginnings of a smile crept into her voice. "You need to face them, you know."

"What have you been doing?"

She brightened. "I play the piano for the Sisters during matins and vespers. And I – I've been teaching a bit."

"Teaching?" Georg couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Music. At first, I gave lessons to some of the postulates, because you know music is so very important to the Sisters," she said seriously. "And then somehow word got out, and I started getting other students. The Sisters were so kind to let me use a room in the church."

Their eyes met, and she read in his a reluctant question. "Nobody's said anything to me about what happened before." Her voice became gentler. "I think… it was really only a small group of people all along who … didn't like me. Didn't like what I was doing. I even have a few pupils I used to teach – and even one of the parents started taking lessons. Everyone has been accepting, Georg."

He shook his head helplessly, wondering how she had it in her to be so forgiving, despite all he knew of her. "Oh Maria – I feel like… you deserve an apology. You should be demanding an apology."

The Maria he loved looked at him, eyes full of understanding. "No – I don't expect it, and I feel like I would be cheating myself now if I keep waiting for one." She shrugged, lightly. "I don't feel angry, Georg. I'm doing what I love, still. And it was what I had always wanted."

"Was?"

She nodded. "You know – teaching had been my dream. It was the only thing that was mine. I didn't have any family. I didn't have anyone to share anything with. But when I could teach, when I could share my love of music… then I had something to give." Maria swallowed. "I had a lot of time to myself, here in the Abbey – a lot of time to think. To really think, for myself, without worrying about money or paying anyone back or having to prove anything to anyone. I still love teaching, but being a teacher doesn't define who I have to be, anymore. I've never been allowed to think that way before."

Georg tried to swallow his trepidation. "Did you – did you think about becoming an aspirant? A postulant?"

She shook her head. "No. I do love it here. It's peaceful, and the Sisters are so wonderful, and everything is so orderly. But I knew I could never be a nun because…" She took a breath, and lifted her eyes to meet his " – I love you."

He took an involuntary step forward, stunned into silence. Had he heard her correctly?

Maria looked down, suddenly shy. "Baroness Schraeder told me once that if I left, you wouldn't get over it."

The sound that came from his lips was half-groan, half-sigh. "Oh no no – Maria, you don't have to do this. Not for me."

"I know Georg." Maria took a step forward too, and he realized she was trembling. "What I'm trying to say is that I – I couldn't get over it. Wouldn't get over it. I was in Teisendorf, and all I wanted was to come back… to you. You were here. The children were here. I was leaving behind family, leaving behind the only person I ever wanted to share everything with. And I – I couldn't."

Unbidden, tears came into his eyes. Tears of relief, of gratitude, of an emotion so intense it was useless hiding it. "Is that… why you came back?"

"Yes. I didn't know if you would still want me…" She swallowed as she saw him flinch in protest, " – but I needed to find out. I needed to own up to it. I needed to look for the life I wanted."

Happiness was breaking over him like a wave. "And have you…found it?" His voice was a murmur in the space between them.

Hers was a sigh. "Yes, I think I have. I know I have."

He took her chin in his hands, tenderly, gently, and tilted his face to hers. "I love you."

She leaned into him, and when their lips met, it was a promise that embraced the past, and sealed their future.

Reluctantly they parted. Georg touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, inhaling everything about her. She nuzzled against him, her breath a soft sigh against his skin.

The sun was just setting over the highest ridge, casting them in a cool, protective shadow. Around them, the mountains were awash with colour, and it seemed even the wind and the trees were singing in jubilation. Down below, the winding Salzach river curled around the small town of Salzburg, vibrant, peaceful, magical, painful, a memory, a haven – depending on how you looked. And in the distance, they could see the road that led to Aigen.

In that moment, it was just the two of them, standing on top of a mountain, in a world where everything was possible.

"Come," he whispered against her ear, "let me walk you home."

"Darling, do you see that hill over there? The one over that valley?"

"Yes."

"Can you picture a little clearing, surrounded by a groove of birch?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And a little lodge, sitting just above a gentle, winding stream?"

"How lovely, Georg! Is it yours?"

"Yes, darling. It's been empty for years. What do you say we open a small school?"

"A school! All the way up there?"

"Why ever not? The hills are alive, so they'll say, with the sound of music…"

"You stayed at a summerhouse in Vienna?"

"Yes, trying to convince myself that when the Lord closes a door, somewhere, he opens a window."

"Darling, why are you looking at me like – oh, I told you that!"

"Yes. When you told me about your childhood. But all I could think about was that door that led to you…"

"Oh, Maria. Mmm – darling, somebody will see."

"I'm not afraid of anyone looking."

"Maria."

"Hmm?"

"Is there anyone I should go to to ask permission to marry you?"

"Well – why don't we ask…"

"The children?"

"Georg. I'm so happy."

"You have made me the happiest man in this world."

"Can this really be happening to me?"

"I love you."

It's a dream that will need, all the love you can give

Everyday of my life, for as long as I live

Epilogue

Maria entered her room – the same guest room that had been hers during her previous stay at the villa, at her request – to find a parcel wrapped in a bit of brown paper waiting for her on the bed with a note resting on top.

She smiled, recognizing Georg's handiwork. Think of me, he had written the first time, when he had sent along a parasol on a cloudy day. As though a moment goes by where she doesn't think of him! His little tokens were sometimes playful (a giant box of strudels from her favourite bakery), sometimes moving (a poem or short verse), and sometimes practical. Maria unwrapped her parcel now, to find a beautiful dress of fine, buttery silk, in hues of blues and greens, with just a touch of gold. A flowing skirt made for dancing. An intricate bow cinching a delicate waist – she could wear it now with no difficulty, given that she had done enough laughing in the intervening days to make her belly ache, constantly.

For tonight, said the note in his elegant, angular script.

So Georg was having a ball. He had hinted at planning an engagement party before the wedding, and with her numerous wedding tasks, instructed her not to worry over it. Maria wasn't worried. She may have been a bit nervous when the engagement announcements went out, but the cards that had come back had all been positive, and the guests she had received so far were warmly receptive, if not downright cheery.

And Georg! The man who never stopped loving her. Who loved her every way she wished to be loved. For him, she would do this again, and again. For him, she would conquer anything.

Maria slipped into the dress after tea – there had been no supper, as was to be expected when hosting a party – applied some cosmetics, and slid the thin, golden band that had been a gift from him into her hair. She stood in front of her full-length mirror.

A baroness looked back at her. Perhaps not the most sophisticated, or the most polished. Perhaps a baroness who wouldn't always say the right things, and wouldn't do things as expected. Perhaps a baroness who laughed too often, and sang too much. But she could pass.

The reflection in the mirror looked a little bit like a stranger, dolled up, taller – the ballet flats she had chosen to wear had a little bit of heel – and wearing a dress fit for royalty, but still recognizably herself.

The woman in the mirror belonged to him – she wore his dress, and his tiara, and on her neck, the faint, almost invisible blush from when he marked her with his lips several blissful evenings ago – but she was still very much Maria.

And that, she thought, was a good a start as any.

Maria made her way to the stairwell, practicing little curtsies along the way, and found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

Her heart jumped into her throat – whether it was at how he looked, or that this distinguished man was waiting for her, she couldn't be sure. He was wearing his tails, his Maria Theresa cross nestled against a crisp white collar. He watched her descend the steps toward him with an enigmatic smile and molten eyes.

When she reached the bottom, his smile widened and his eyes burned. He moved a second too late, as though he couldn't stop looking. He took her hand, bringing it to his lips, trailing kisses to her wrist. "Oh Maria," he murmured against her skin, "look at you. You make me want to call off the night."

"That would be… a waste," she managed impishly, suppressing a shiver at his touch. "Everyone would be disappointed."

He straightened, and ducked his head in apparent acquiescence. "Come, then." He tucked her hand into his arm, leading her toward the ballroom.

"Wait – Georg, shouldn't we wait to welcome the guests?"

His eyes met hers for just a moment, before he pushed open the double doors, one after the other.

Warm, golden light flooded through the doorway from the sparkling chandeliers above. The polished wooden floors gleamed, and the gilded walls shone with a soft glow. The entire room felt as though it were made of light, felt enchanted, felt alive. A full chamber orchestra filled the space between the dance floor and wall. The conductor met Georg's eyes with a barely perceptible nod, and almost immediately, a lively waltz filled the room. A slight movement in the corner drew Maria's awed attention, where she saw an attendant waiting with a tray of glasses.

"Champagne, if you want," Georg murmured, following her gaze.

"Georg!" She breathed, captivated. "You didn't… do all this for me?"

If it were up to me, I would invite nobody at all.

She turned to him, to find him already looking at her. His gaze was steady, but his voice broke. "The first time you walked in here – that was the moment I realized I wanted you to stay."

You see… I'd only need one partner. I'd only want one partner. And I'd want to spend the entire evening with her.

"I want to stay. I think I knew then, that I wanted to stay," she whispered, as he gathered her into his arms.

"I know," he whispered back, drawing her onto the dance floor. He trailed his fingers gently along her arm, encircled her wrist, and finally, took her hand. "I wanted to be sure you knew it, too."

Maria let him slip his other arm around her waist, but instead of settling her free hand at his shoulder, she reached for him, her fingers threading into his hair, guiding him to her. His mouth grazed hers, and she mumbled against his lips, "I want to be yours."

Georg's answer was not in words, but in the way he held her close, the way his lips lingered against hers, the way his eyes closed, not in fear, but in reverence.

"Steady," she whispered teasingly. "The night is only beginning."

There was a sudden pause in the music, a caesura where both Georg and Maria took the same breath.

His eyes shone. "To our new beginning." The music swelled triumphantly, he swept her against him, and together, they waltzed across the floor. Two, as one.

THE END

You have no idea now excited I am to finish this story! This is the first multi-chapter story I've written/completed, and it's been such a huge part of the past year and a half.

Thank you to all who read, reviewed, and left such insightful comments that prompted me to delve a little more deeply. This story is what it is because of your support and encouragement! xx

Till next time!