The morning sun had barely risen, its pale light filtering through the tall windows of Friedrich's estate. He stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the final details of his attire. His outfit was a masterpiece of 1800s fashion with a gothic twist: a high-collared black coat adorned with silver embroidery, its tails sweeping elegantly behind him. Beneath it, he wore a deep crimson waistcoat, its intricate patterns catching the light with every movement. His trousers were tailored to perfection, tucked into polished knee-high boots. A silver cravat, fastened with a jet-black pin, completed the look, adding a touch of refinement to his otherwise dark aesthetic. His hair, usually tied back, was left loose, framing his sharp features and giving him an air of romantic mystery.
Satisfied with his appearance, Friedrich stepped out into the crisp morning air. The front yard of his estate was already bustling with activity as the Serpents gathered, their black uniforms stark against the pale dawn. Friedrich addressed them, his voice calm but commanding. "I'll be gone for a few days. While I'm away, I want this estate to remain in perfect order. Find someone to tend to the yards and ensure the inhabitants are well cared for." He handed a pouch of coins to one of the Serpents, who nodded in acknowledgment.
With everything in place, Friedrich mounted his horse, a sleek black stallion that seemed to mirror his own elegance. Behind him, a second horse pulled a chariot laden with gifts—fine fabrics, jewelry, and delicacies from the city, all carefully chosen to impress Elsa and her family. Seven of his best Serpents accompanied him, their presence a silent reminder of his power and influence.
The journey to the village was uneventful, the countryside bathed in the golden hues of autumn. As Friedrich and his entourage approached the village, the air buzzed with excitement. Word of his arrival had spread quickly, and the villagers gathered to welcome him, their faces alight with admiration. Friedrich, after all, was not just a hero of Bavaria but a symbol of their newfound safety. The defeat of Napoleon had lifted a shadow from their lives, and they were eager to show their gratitude.
Friedrich dismounted gracefully, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Elsa. She stood at the edge of the square, her golden hair catching the sunlight, her simple dress a stark contrast to his opulent attire. Yet, to Friedrich, she was the most radiant thing in the village. He approached her, his heart pounding with a rare mix of nerves and anticipation.
"Elsa," he said, his voice soft but carrying the weight of his emotions. He took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm. "I've come to ask you something—something I should have asked long ago." He dropped to one knee, the villagers gasping in unison. From his coat, he produced a ring, its silver band adorned with a single, dark gemstone that seemed to shimmer with an inner fire. "Will you marry me?"
Elsa's eyes filled with tears as she nodded, her voice trembling with joy. "Yes, Friedrich. A thousand times, yes."
The villagers erupted into cheers, their applause echoing through the square. Friedrich rose, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into a tender embrace. The moment was perfect, untouched by the shadows that often lingered in his life.
That evening, the village celebrated. Friedrich's Serpents, though usually stoic, joined in the festivities, their presence ensuring the safety of the revelers. The village chief toasted to the couple, praising Friedrich for his bravery and leadership. Elsa's mother, a kind woman with a warm smile, fussed over the guests, ensuring everyone was well-fed and comfortable. Friedrich's younger sister, Liesel, was particularly delighted, her laughter ringing out as she chatted with the Serpents, who seemed charmed by her hospitality.
As the night deepened, Friedrich and Elsa stole away to a quiet corner of the village, their hands intertwined. For the first time since their initial meeting, they were truly alone, the world around them fading into the background. They spoke of their future, their dreams, and the life they would build together. It was a rare moment of peace for Friedrich, a man whose life was often consumed by duty and secrecy.
Meanwhile, the Serpents patrolled the village, their watchful eyes scanning the darkness. For the first time in years, the village felt utterly safe, its people able to sleep soundly under the protection of Friedrich's elite guard. The night was filled with laughter, music, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
The festivities in the village continued late into the night, but as the moon climbed higher, the laughter and music gradually faded, replaced by the quiet hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. The Serpents, ever vigilant, maintained their patrols, their black uniforms blending seamlessly with the shadows.
Earlier that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the captain of the Serpents had found a rare moment of respite. He sat behind the house, his back against a tree, enjoying a simple meal of bread and cheese. The scent of lavender from the nearby bushes filled the air, a rare moment of peace in his otherwise disciplined life.
Unbeknownst to him, Liesel had been watching from behind the lavender bushes, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic captain. She had noticed him earlier—his sharp features, the way he carried himself with quiet authority—and couldn't resist sneaking a closer look. As she leaned forward, a twig snapped beneath her foot.
The captain's reflexes were instantaneous. In a flash, he was on his feet, his dagger drawn. He moved with the precision of a predator, closing the distance between them before Liesel could react. In one swift motion, he pinned her against the tree, his blade pressing lightly against her throat. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, widened in shock as he realized who she was.
"Liesel," he breathed, releasing her immediately. His voice was low, tinged with regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."
Liesel winced, rubbing her bruised shoulder, but her eyes sparkled with amusement rather than fear. "You're stronger than you look," she said, her tone teasing. "I didn't mean to startle you."
The captain stepped back, his expression unreadable. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. It's dangerous."
Liesel tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Or maybe you're just too jumpy. What's your name, anyway? Or do Serpents not have names?"
"We have names," he replied curtly, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. "But they're not important. What's important is that you're safe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have duties to attend to."
He turned to leave, but Liesel called after him. "Wait! You didn't even let me thank you for... well, not killing me."
The captain paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Consider it a lesson. Be more careful next time."
As he walked away, Liesel couldn't help but feel a strange pull toward him. There was something about his aloofness, his quiet strength, that intrigued her. She made a mental note to find him again.
***
At dinner, Friedrich noticed the faint bruise on Liesel's shoulder. "What happened to you?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.
Liesel glanced at the captain, who was seated at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate. She smiled sweetly. "Oh, it's nothing. I was lifting a heavy bucket earlier and bruised my shoulder. It's already feeling better."
Friedrich nodded, satisfied with her explanation, but the captain's grip tightened around his fork. He knew the truth, and the fact that Liesel had protected him stirred something deep within him—a flicker of gratitude, perhaps even something more.
***
Later that night, when the village was cloaked in silence, the captain found himself standing outside Liesel's room, a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. He had no idea what had compelled him to pick them, but the thought of her smile had lingered in his mind all evening. He hesitated, his training warring with the unfamiliar emotions stirring in his chest.
Finally, he pushed the door open, stepping inside. The room was bathed in moonlight, and Liesel lay asleep, her golden hair spilling across the pillow. The captain placed the flowers on the bedside table, his movements silent as a shadow.
But as he turned to leave, Liesel stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She sat up, startled, clutching the blanket to her chest. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.
The captain froze, his usual composure faltering. "I... I wanted to apologize," he said, his voice barely audible. "For earlier. And to thank you for not telling Friedrich."
Liesel's expression softened, and she smiled. "You brought me flowers?"
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I thought it might... make up for the bruise."
Liesel laughed softly, the sound like music in the quiet room. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. "Stay. Just for a little while."
The captain hesitated, his mind racing. He had spent years training to suppress his emotions, to remain detached and focused on his duty. But in that moment, the walls he had built began to crumble. He sat on the edge of the bed, his movements stiff and uncertain.
Liesel leaned closer, her breath warm against his cheek. "You don't have to be so guarded all the time, you know."
Before he could respond, she kissed him, her touch gentle but insistent. The captain's resolve shattered, and he kissed her back, his hands tangling in her hair. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to feel something other than duty.
***
When Liesel awoke the next morning, the captain was gone. The flowers still sat on the bedside table, their petals glistening with dew. She smiled to herself, her fingers tracing the spot where he had lain beside her. The memory of the night lingered, a secret she would carry close to her heart.
Meanwhile, the captain resumed his duties, his expression as stoic as ever. But deep down, he knew something had changed. Liesel had ignited a spark within him, one that threatened to consume the carefully constructed walls around his heart. And though he tried to push the thoughts away, he couldn't deny the truth: she had left her mark on him.