Pairing: Alexander of Brennenburg & Elise Zimmermann, slight Daniel/Elise Zimmermann
Tags: Master & Servant, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father Figures, Elise Zimmermann is 18 years old, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Minor Original Character(s), Aged-Up Character(s)
Summary: Elise Zimmerman runs away from home and gets a job as a servant at Brennenburg Castle.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The woman, who even looked very tall from the canvas, was sitting in an armchair, looking directly at the viewer. Either because of the wrong lighting in the room, or the painting itself was painted that way, her skin seemed to have an unnatural bluish hue, as if she were sitting in a remote hall of the castle. Her blond wavy hair with a silver sheen was loose and decorated with several clips in the form of small wings. Even though the stranger's face was hidden by a translucent veil, black, like a dress of a strange cut, more like a monk's robe, only very rich and decorated with precious stones, it was clear that her features were noble and sharp, as if carved from stone.
"Do you know who she is?" Daniel asked, coming closer.
"No," Elise replied, although she had a hunch. "What is it?"
She looked at the table and saw a piece of paper lying on it, obviously torn from some book. Part of the page, neatly torn off at the bottom and top, was yellowed with age, but it was still possible to make out what was written. Squinting, Elise realized that it was an excerpt from a poem, moreover, in German.
"You make noise and rush about and cannot understand
What it is that torments me, poor me.
And no, I have not lost anything,
Although I also lack it."
Then pick yourself up - hurry,
You are a young fellow.
At your age, one has the strength
And courage to gain what one wishes.
"Alas, no - I can never obtain it;
It is too far from me.
It dwells as high and flashes as beautifully
As that star up there."
The thought of the portrait made Elise sad. She couldn't be sure if this woman was really the same Alexander's love that his brother was talking about, but the very presence of a hidden portrait in the depths of the castle seemed terribly tragic to her: someone tried to perpetuate her memory, and spent many attempts on it, judging by the piled canvases smeared with black paint, but In the end, he hid it in an abandoned wing, leaving time and dampness to be torn apart. And this woman looked very different from what was depicted in the paintings of noble ladies: she looked like either a nun, or the embodiment of some ancient forgotten goddess. She had no place in the real world.
