March 1922

"What's her name?" Georg asked. He bent down in front of his wife and stroked the soft fuzz of hair on his daughter's head.

His daughter.

He had received the telegram a few days ago. He had loved her since he read the words from Agathe about a beautiful baby girl waiting to meet him when he arrived home. He loved her in a way he had never and would never love anyone else. But until this moment he had never laid eyes on her.

Now he couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was so wonderful. Though his experience with infants was nonexistent, Georg knew, without a shadow of a doubt that this was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen.

And his darling Agathe had never looked lovelier. Even the sight of her on the day they were married could not compete with the afterglow of pregnancy; of bringing their daughter into the world.

The daughter whose name he still did not know.

"Elisabeth," Agathe replied. "Elisabeth Agathe."

Georg smiled broadly and moved to sit beside her on the bench. The glow of twilight filtered through the glass windows of the iron gazebo. It made everything seem otherworldly, almost heavenly.

The perfect setting for a moment like this.

"I thought we could call her Liesl," she continued, passing the infant to him.

"Liesl," Georg mused, taking his daughter in his arms for the first time. Names had so much power, and the simple act of hearing his daughter's name on his wife's lips made it real in a way it had not been before. Georg had known he'd had a daughter for a few days now, and had loved her for just as long. But hearing her name, even more so than seeing her for the first time, made her real in a completely new way.

"It's perfect," he affirmed. "She's perfect."

Still cradling Liesl, he raised his head and stared in awe at his wife and was suddenly transported back, to another place, another time, another gazebo.

November 1917

"Georg, what are we doing here?" Agathe asked, looking over toward the gazebo with a puzzled expression on her face.

Georg couldn't say anything. He tried unsuccessfully to hide his nerves as he stumbled inside beside her. But it was useless. His fingers were wiggling so much they were almost convulsing. He doubted he would be able to properly hold the ring that had been burning a hole in his pocket all day.

"Are you alright?" she asked again when there was no reply. She had never seen him this nervous before.

He braved her brilliantly striking ice-blue gaze. He would never forget the first time he saw those eyes.

In 1910, after five years in the Navy, Georg had been given command of the U-6 submarine. At the launch, John Whitehead, the British Ambassador to Croatia and, moreover, son of the inventor of the torpedo, had congratulated Georg on his achievement and thanked him for his service to his country.

But the moment that Georg never forgot from that day was seeing Whitehead's wife, holding the hand of a young girl, who had seemed interested; if slightly shy about being there. What he remembered most was her eyes. She had the most piercing blue eyes Georg had ever seen.

The conversation with the ambassador had continued, and from there, Georg had grown very close to the family. With his standing in the Navy, and the Whitehead's connection to Austria, John had seen Georg almost as a surrogate son.

Shortly before the war broke out Georg had visited the Whitehead's once more. He'd been somewhat surprised to discover an attraction towards their eldest daughter, and even more surprised to discover that she was in fact none other than the shy adolescent girl on the dock when his submarine had been launched.

From then on Georg had been smitten.

She was what kept him going through the long months at sea, what sustained him during the horrors of war. Whenever he wasn't on duty he was hopping back and forth, from England to Croatia, wherever she was at the time, in order to see her.

Now here they were. The softly falling snow and icy air made Georg acutely aware about why he was here, with her, alone. The last time he'd seen her, over six months ago, he knew he wanted to marry her. While there had been no problems when Georg had asked Agathe's father for her hand, there were so many other obstacles.

At nineteen, Agathe was old enough to be married, and yet still so young. And while their age gap wasn't huge, Georg had never quite been able to shake off the sense of guilt he felt. The first time he'd seen her he had been nineteen, while she had been only twelve. Though he hadn't seen her again until she was sixteen; a fairly respectable age for courting, he still felt as though he wasn't doing right by her.

She was English. She had spent half her life in Croatia and the other half in England, but had never travelled beyond that. Though she spoke German almost fluently, if they married, she would move a whole world away from what she had known all her life.

Her grandfather had invented the torpedo. Despite his friendship with her family, as a naval commander it was ironic; comical even that he should fall in love with her. Georg honestly wasn't sure if Robert Whitehead's connection to his life helped or hindered his relationship with his granddaughter.

But, to Georg at least, none of those were as big as the obvious issue.

The world was at war. He'd sunk his last vessel less than a month earlier. Nobody could really be sure how long it would continue, and as such, Georg didn't know how long he would have to serve. If he had to return to war, there was no guarantee of a return. He didn't want to break Agathe's heart.

"Georg?" Agathe repeated.

"Ye-yes?" he stammered. As he came back to the present and looked at her face, he forgot everything except how much he loved her.

He had to push back the nerves; do what he needed to do, come hell or high water. He didn't want to break her heart, but he didn't want to lose her either.

He'd never felt this way before. Ever since he met Agathe, things had been different. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, their arms around each other and their children by their side.

He desperately hoped she felt the same way.

Lest he falter due to nerves, in one fast, fluid motion, Georg dropped to one knee and pulled a velvet box from his coat pocket. Agathe's eyes widened, and as he looked at the woman he loved, Georg finally found his voice.

"Agathe," he said, flipping the box open to reveal an exquisite gold ring with three diamonds. "My darling, will you marry me?"

"Yes, oh yes," Agathe gasped. "Oh Georg..."

Georg slid the ring onto Agathe's finger before standing up and drawing his fiancée into his arms for a kiss.

His fiancée.

They collapsed onto the closest bench, his lips still pressed softly against hers. In some far corner of his mind, Georg knew this was the last proper moment they would have together in a long, long time.

But the rest of his brain could barely think. Nothing could compete with the sheer elation he felt now. Falling in love could be dangerous, especially for him. But in a world at war, it had proved just what Georg needed.

This was the happiest day of his life.

March 1922

"Georg?" Agathe asked, her voice breaking him from his reverie.

He gave her a small, apologetic smile. "Yes?"

"You're far away," Agathe smiled back and continued. "Where are you?"

"Just thinking," he answered vaguely. He looked back at Liesl, but soon enough that only made him want to look at his wife again.

Every day since the one he'd just been reliving had been the happiest day of his life.

He hadn't been surprised to find her waiting for him in the gazebo. It was their special place. The gazebo at Agathe's home back in England had always been one of her favourite places. He had acquired this one to make her feel more at ease about moving to Austria after the wedding.

Though he needn't have worried about making his bride more comfortable, this gazebo had earned a place in both of their hearts all on its own. Memories had been made within these six walls that Georg would treasure for the rest of his life. In later years he would be certain that at least one of his children had been conceived inside.

"What about?"she queried.

"This," Georg ran his hand over her engagement ring by way of an answer.

As Agathe smiled back, he reached out an arm and drew her even closer, transferring their daughter back over to her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She smiled back coyly.

He had never met anyone so lovely in all his life. Little Liesl had her mother's eyes. It was actually uncanny how similar her face was to that of the baby in her arms some sixteen years down the line. And the honey coloured hair that their next daughter would inherit would always make him think she looked like both Liesl and Louisa equally.

She was just as beautiful inside as well. Despite his rakish youth, Georg von Trapp had always had a moral compass. It may have been love at first sight when they met, but Georg liked to believe he would never have married a woman with whom he didn't agree with on what he believed to be important.

Agathe was a socialite through and through. She loved planning, hosting and attending parties. She loved getting dressed up to the nines, looking and feeling glamorous and dancing all night.

But what was important to her, really important, were not those things. The pretty dresses and parties meant nothing compared to how much she loved her homeland, or homelands. England and Croatia had always held a special place in her heart, and now Austria had joined them. She loved her family deeply, and of course, she loved her husband. She had always wanted children, and had never been happier than on the day she received the news that she was with child.

Seeing her looking at little Liesl, Georg knew that his wife would do anything for their daughter, and any other subsequent children in a heartbeat. And looking down at the scene in front of him, he hoped that Liesl, and any other children that might come along, would make memories of their own in this gazebo.

And he hoped for many, many more memorable moments of his own.

This story has been a long time coming, but I'm so happy to finally get it started and up. Obviously I have taken creative license with several historical dates and details, but I hope that I have succeeded in at least grounding it in reality. Thank you to the wonderful members of the TSOM Fanfiction Proboards and Facebook group for all their input for all my writing.