Impossible!

Seven Lurid Tales of Unusual Passion
(An Eroica Fantasia in Seven Parts)
by Grey Bard
Email: fitzrose at email.msn.com




Commentary by Grey Bard, the author, and Kadorienne, the beta.


When attempting a work in the fan fiction tradition of “Five things that never happened” AU anthologies, I found that From Eroica With Love was such fertile ground that I couldn’t possibly stop with just five. Prepare to be horrified, surprised and hopefully amused.

GB: Okay, when I started this fic, I thought: hey. Snippets. It can't be that hard, right? So much so, that I promised Kadorienne a snippet a day, every day, for the length of my vacation to Canada. Obviously, this didn't happen, since I was still writing several months later, on my next vacation, when I went to visit Kadorienne herself.

K: I rummaged through my hutches and offered her a couple of plotbunnies. Knowing GB's dislike of slavefics, I suggested she do something with them.

"Jamesie," the insolent voice drawled from behind the red silk curtain,"Do fetch me my toy. I feel most deprived and wearied by my exertions and I would so like to be amused."

GB: Kadorienne almost fell over when she heard that one. For some reason she found it kinkily appealing. Hmmmm. Wonder why? ...Well, what do you expect in a fandom about a "sadistically wonderful combination"? Sorry. Sorry. My sense of humor got away from me again.

K: You're not implying I'm into bondage, are you? Surely no one would ever believe such a thing.

GB: Heaven forbid!

"Yes, your lordship!" said his repulsively obsequious servant with malicious glee. "Right away, your lordship!"

GB: Whether James is this horrible in canon is beside the point. If I was going to do "Enslaved in the castle" I required an Igor.

Mr. James sprinted down the corridor to the slave quarters, not wishing to miss a minute of the best part of his day.

The Earl of Red Gloria had an aesthete's taste for historical anachronisms, and a reputation as a sexual adventurer. He also lived in a castle. Obviously he would have a richly appointed working dungeon. Obviously its windows would be barred.

Who would not be ready to believe any event within his castle was mere play acting? Surely any number of fools would come willingly to the bed or the dungeon of the notorious Eroica!

"Stingy bug! When I escape, I'll have you extradited to Turkey or worse!" came the cry of the outraged NATO agent.

"You will not! You can never escape Castle Gloria!" Mr. James giggled evilly. "I'll bet you wish you had given in to my master back when he was inclined to play nice! Back before he caught you and put you down here! You were his pet then, but now I'm in charge of you!"

"Pfah," snorted Klaus von dem Eberbach, lately of Bonn, now the personal prisoner of Dorian, the Earl of Red Gloria. "I'm still his pet, worse luck. If I were really under your authority, you would have been arrested long ago, and I would be drinking schnapps."

"Would not!" shrieked the accountant turned jailer.

"Could you really have kept a crew of thieves loyal enough to run security on a drafty old castle?" Eberbach asked contemptuously. "You couldn't keep even a crew of moths happy, I'm sure they'd all desert your closet for richer pastures."

Mr. James could take no more. "Here!" he snipped, jamming a garment through the cell bars. "Strip and put this on. Master's orders, he'll want you in clean clothes."

Klaus looked at the paisley silk bathrobe. "What, another one?" he asked under his breath.

"Shut up and strip," Mr. James sulked. "I don't know why you worry! I wouldn't watch you undress even for a new calculator!"

"Try it and see how long your old calculator lasts," Klaus snarled, but he began to strip. It wasn't that hard, since he was only changing from one bathrobe to another. The Earl approved of the idea of easy access. Obviously, he was a hopeful man.

When he was ready, Klaus thumped on the door, and Mr. James let him out, taser in hand. He would have preferred a whip or riding crop or something, but Eroica did not approve of damaging the merchandise. After all, the thief had gone to great lengths to steal this particular work of beauty.

"Move along!" he blustered, but his prisoner ignored him completely. For all of his hopes, Mr. James had no cause to use his human cattle prod. He was apparently beneath notice, and the futility of eluding the real security measures was enough to keep Klaus from even bothering to test Mr. James's more pathetic methods of control.

K: I really like that touch. Very smart, and allows Klaus to keep his dignity in this situation. Hail GB.

GB: Thank you.

It was a very, very long walk back up the corridor. Somehow, dealing with his captive enemy was never as satisfying for Mr. James as he imagined.

"Did you bring tonight's entertainment, Mr. James?" came the voice from behind the red curtain.

"Yes, your lordship!" Mr. James fawned, shoving Klaus through the curtain.

"Then kindly bugger off, Jamesie."

"Yes, your lordship," the faithful accountant grumbled.

Klaus staggered in, righting himself once he got untangled from the curtain's folds of red velvet. There sat his captor, perched on an overstuffed green ottoman.

"Do sit down, Major!" Eroica said, gesturing at an elegant brocade divan nearby. "I trust you are enjoying your stay?"

Eberbach seated himself with ill grace upon the delicate piece of furniture. He looked around warily at the decadently plush boudoir.

The Earl shook his head. "So proud, so silent. Surely you aren't afraid I am going to bite?" he asked, gently taunting.

Klaus's posture stiffened where he sat. "It is not your ... bite, that troubles me," he gritted out.

"Is it really so very bad here?" Eroica asked, smoothing his purple silk dressing gown, and looking up at Eberbach inquiringly out from under blond lashes. "Your cell is at least as nice as those dour rooms of yours and, of course, you have the pleasure of my company."

"It is not the worst prison I have been kept in," Klaus admitted, "but why are you imprisoning me!"

K: Ask a stupid question....

"Well it wasn't my first choice of action!" the Earl exclaimed. "You simply would never stay still enough to listen to me, so I had to do something."

He sighed, and leaned forward to pat the divan. "Relax, Major. It is not a permanent arrangement," he said in soothing tones. "Unless, of course, you want it to be?"

The Major started back in wide-eyed horror. "Never! How dare you suggest such a thing! Why would you even consider that a possibility?"

GB: Heh heh heh. Gee, Klaus, cut a little to close to home?

"Oh, no reason." Eroica said, offensively innocent and stroking the cloth of the divan. "Mere idle speculation. Ignore it."

Klaus glowered at him. "When I get out..."

"You'll say nothing," the Earl replied in an archly chill voice. "Would you tell them you vacationed in the dungeon of Castle Gloria? Whatever would they think!"

He smiled a bitingly knowing smile, and the Major winced.

The Earl went on. "No, no. You'll let them continue to think that you were visiting a terminally ill aunt in Zurich, as I was kind enough to lead them to believe. Won't you?"

Klaus nodded, pained.

Eroica looked satisfied. "So, now that we have the pleasantries aside, would you care for something to drink? Some coffee, maybe? Perhaps something stronger?"

"Coffee," the German muttered.

The lord of the manor unfolded himself from the ottoman, and rose to draw a steaming cupful from the shining brass coffee machine. "So much better, isn't it, than that tasteless Nescafé that you always swill?"

"It's a foolish decadent invention that takes more equipment to make than any coffee merits!" Klaus opined. "Nescafé is obviously preferable."

Eroica stood over him, handing Klaus the cup with a look that gleamed of dark satisfaction. "Mmm. And yet, before you leave, you will have aquired a taste for cappuchino. You may never drink another cup, but I will enjoy knowing that the craving will continue to haunt you for years to come."

While the Earl remained standing, Klaus drank quietly and put the cup down on an end table. "When will you let me go?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. When this ceases to amuse me - or it is no longer necessary," his captor said, and ghosted a hand over the Major's hair.

Klaus closed his eyes, and the Earl ran a hand over his shoulders. "Not long, I think. Can't you feel it?

“I so want a nice return on my aquisition. You wouldn't believe the trouble I had stealing you!" Eroica murmured in his prisoner's ear.

Klaus shot bolt-upright. "I am not a piece of property to be taken at whim!"

"Aren't you?" The Earl asked looking at him sideways, sly. "Well, you certainly are a work of beauty that was not being appreciated as such in your original home."

He petted Klaus's shoulder meditatively. "Such a pity I never get to see you on full display! I don't suppose you would...."

"Of course not!" the Major said, in reflex.

Eroica chuckled. "Then don't mind me, but I prefer to relax more comfortably."

He undraped his silken dressing gown, revealing his broad and finely muscled chest. He stretched with a sinuous joy, and caught Klaus looking on in involuntary wonder.

"Like what you see?" he inquired, solemn. "Maybe you have aquired some taste here, Major."

"No!" Klaus protested.

"Really? Would it be so terrible if you did?" the Earl asked, leaning over him to lay the garment on the back of the divan. "No one would ever know, and after all, you are a prisoner. You can hardly be held responsible..."

He looked down into Klaus's eyes and slowly inched forward, centimeters from a kiss.

"Never!" said the Major, catching himself, and recoiling.

Eroica smirked. "Well, hardly ever," he said, and took Klaus's mouth in a ferocious clinch.

Klaus struggled desperately for a moment before the Earl ran a hand down his chest and he gave in with a surrendering moan. He reached forth and drew the Earl to him and basked in the man's warmth, in the feel of him.

K: *happy sigh*

GB: Ahem. Yes. This is how one writes PG-13 porn. Let no one say it cannot be done.

A shot rang out.

"Two birds with one stone." said Mischa the Cub. "I've always wanted to do that!"

GB: Oh look! It's Mischa Sue!


"Who would have guessed that Mischa had it in him!" Dorian laughed, nodding at the diary.

They had been combing the spy's quarters for information, when Klaus had happened upon a locked book. Instead of carrying codes, however, it apparently contained some highly unusual fiction about them both.

K: Highly unusual, is it? It seems some thieves and NATO agents have never been to a certain website with a pink background....

GB: Well, I'm sure Klaus would never go looking for such decadence.

Dear Major Eberbach still appeared to be in shock! Dorian was immensely amused.

"If he ever gets tired of his government's pathetic rubles, I'm sure he could make quite a living writing for triple x cinemas!" the thief went on, expansively. "Why, this is practically the Art Thief of Gor!"

GB: "You are a spy. You will always be a spy. It is your nature to serve art thieves."

K: I'm the one who told her about Gor. Um, not that I read that kind of book.

GB: Those things are as funny as hell. Unintentionally, of course.

K: Too, they are amusing. But in truth, they find their truest humor in being serious.

Klaus made a small choked noise which one might interpret as horror.

"You know," Dorian said with a thoughtful expression, "Page four was rather interesting, don't you think?"

The Major threw off his funk and drew himself up to full attention.

"I am going out," he announced.

"Why?" Dorian asked.

"To buy lighter fluid and matches!" Klaus spat. "Some things are best not seen."

"I would never do that to you!" Dorian called after the fleeing NATO agent. "You would look terrible in paisley!"

As he waited for the Klaus to return, Dorian idly wondered if the hotel had a copier. After all, it would be a shame to waste all the Russian's hard work!

Still, why would anyone go to the trouble of making up elaborate fantasies about them?

K: Who, indeed?

GB: Wow. I wonder.

K: Notice how she keeps it nicely ambiguous whether our heroes have ever actually gotten horizontal or not. I love ambiguity.

GB: Well, either way, the last thing Klaus wants is to have a Russian spy speculating on his sex life. Even so creatively. Maybe especially so creatively.

Eroica shook his head. "The things some people will write!"

GB: And on that note, we begin our cavalcade of literary insanity! Roll cameras!


K: This next one was totally her idea. My mind isn't that twisted.

GB: Don't listen to her folks. Remember. This is the lady who wrote Sealed With A Kiss.

K: Hey! You promised not to remind me of that again!

GB: I did? Oops. Sorry. Arf! Arf! *smacks flippers together* Arf arf arf!

K: *sulks*

GB: Moving on....

The time for restraint had passed. Appropriate behavior was no longer an option. His desire had grown too strong for him to hold it in any longer.

All of his careful education, all of his well learned control had been burned away. All that was left was his most primal instinct.

The drive of the hunter with the prey in his sights.

He slipped through the door of his room on silent feet, sure of his ability to leave the other sleepers unawakened. They might share his hard, determined life of proud discipline and duty, they might even pride themselves on their vigilance, yet they stood as no obstacle to his stealth. They were worthy brothers in arms, but they were no match for Klaus.

His obsession, his desire, his tender prey was but a few meters down the hall, and he would not find himself denied.

Oh, how had he ever resisted this? So close to hand, so tauntingly available.

There was a clear path. He could see that from where he crouched, watching carefully from around a corner. Those who served it were elsewhere, and Klaus and only Klaus stood in the hallway. Only Klaus could see that precious doorway, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to sprint forth with a glad cry. His mind was racing as he crept the final meters.

That warm intoxicating scent. Even here, it contolled him. How could he ever have thought he could hide his hunger, when even the faintest aroma overwhelmed him with the siren call of possessive lust?

He could never successfully deny his desires. For all of his protestations, no one who had watched him in that presence had any doubt as to the passion of his soul.

If he would always be suspected, why not indulge beyond their sight? They would never, never have any solid proof that he had given in, he was far too good for that. So if he were condemned for thief, why not enjoy the spoils?

He was in!

Oh, the sight before him, the golden beauty nestled on a black bed of inky purity. So beautiful.

He leapt forward, acting upon the deepest wish of his soul, and was gladly welcomed by the hot warming richness that he consumed and was consumed by. Engulfed in greedy passion, time ceased to have any meaning.

"Klaus," said Sister Teresa, looking down at her wayward student in amusement, "I know you like fried potatoes, but you have to leave some for the other boys' breakfast!"

GB: Yes, the only boyhood love story I can ever believe for Klaus. His enduring passion for the fried potato. Not that he, like the unfortunate Rincewind of Discworld fame, was a true potatosexual.... Um. Yes. Stopping now. Yes, yes, I know. But we've all seen the kind of writing I'm talking about, and most of us have written it too. You have to admit, when you euphemize things too heavily, you might as well be talking about potatoes.


There was one word that could strike fear into the dauntless heart of Eroica, the most daring art thief on three continents, and that word was taxes.

The niceties of having an ostentatious lifestyle with no apparent legal source of income were not the problem. He had Mr, James, the accountant for that.

The problem was Mr. James, the accountant.

Jamesie was so loyal and so very useful, and usually one could weather his eccentricities without too much difficulty. Income tax, however, he took as a personal offense, and this left him in a foul and shrewish mood whenever it was due.

K: Notice the subtle Libertarian anti-income tax propaganda. *happy sigh*

GB: Well, yeah. A little. But come on! How many people really like heavy income tax when they're the ones that have to pay it?

Dorian was sure that Mr. James would make sure that Dorian would pay the smallest possible amount to the Royal Treasury this year, but could he survive that long?

Probably not if he stayed in Britain all month!

And it was, indeed, that time of year again.

After Bonham reported the little matter of the custom painted silk sheets in the master bedroom appearing on ebay from a seller calling himself "CasioJames100%", Dorian decided that once more, it was high time to flee the country.

K: "CasioJames100%"! Hee!

GB: Now, where would I see screen names like that? Hmm. No comment!

So the Eroica Jet was fired up - at a discreet distance from the house, of course, so that Jamesie wouldn't fret about jet fuel - and a course was set for Nowhere In Particular.

Air Traffic Control, however, was unimpressed. Therefore a destination was needed, and quickly.

"Bonn," Dorian told Bonham in the pilot seat, and when he thought about it, the idea had a certain appeal.

What Dorian needed... what Eroica needed was adventure. Romance, adrenaline, diversion, when were these ever in short supply around the Major?

The perfect opposite of the James-dominated tedium that he had just escaped.

A sense of anticipation rose up in Dorian's thrill-seeking heart. The heritage of a hundred generations of warriors, gamblers and pirates sang within him. Yes! He would obey his urges and follow the drive for excitement!

Obviously, he would need to make a proper entrance.

Scaling the walls of Schloss Eberbach at eleven o'clock at night, dressed in sleeveless black jerkin and tight black pants, Dorian felt that he cut a rather dashing figure. Errol Flynn would have wished he could have looked half as good, Dorian was sure.

K: I love Dorian when he buckles swashes.

GB: Mmmm. Me too!

Looking up at the lighted window of Klaus's bedroom, a beacon of life in the darkened hulk of the ancient building, Dorian speculated upon what he might find within.

Would Klaus be hard at work, analyzing some threat to western civilization? Dorian could understand that. He always liked taking his work home with him too.

Would he be sprawled in some chair with the late edition of the newspaper? Or would he be watching something on the tastefully concealed television? A soccer game? A documentary on something fascinating and violent?

Would he have taken his tie off? Might he even have unbuttoned his shirt a little?

K: Klausporn!

GB: Okay, Kadorienne, even I am not that easy. No way is that Klausporn. He would have to take off his watch too!

Dorian had seen a sleeping Klaus, but he had never seen a relaxed Klaus. He had never seen what the man would choose to do with his evenings, given the opportunity.

He scaled the last few feet, breathless not from exertion but anticipation. What would he see? Suddenly, this was more important to him than a mere whim. He loved Klaus, but what did he know about him? Surely tonight he would learn something new.

Dorian eased open the window, to his amazement, not disturbing Klaus in the least. The Major was sitting in bed in his nightclothes, entirely absorbed in the magazine he was reading. He also appeared to be muttering happily under his breath.

Dorian crept forward, hoping for more details, and waiting for the perfect moment to spring his presence on the Major, thus beginning the next round of their cat and mouse game. He strained to hear Klaus's comments.

It couldn't be! This could not be real! Surely, surely this must be bad dream!

"Ha! Historical residence deduction!" Klaus muttered triumphantly into his Financial Times. "I can even write off those verdammt rosebushes too!"

Dorian left as fast as stealth would allow.

Later, in the airspace over Monaco, he realized that he might have overreacted. After all, no man can truly help own nature.

Still, he could see why the Major was not eager to have it known. It was a terrible, unnatural thing that he carried within himself.

No wonder Klaus treated Mr. James so badly. It was a textbook case of denial.

Klaus was in the accountancy closet.


K: This one may have been my fault. I've been trying to find a place for a character to sarcastically advise Dorian that his best chance is to wait for Ponn Farr.

GB: And you know what they say about writing! Show, don't tell. And what a show it is.

"My eyes… are flame. My heart… is flame," Klaus murmured in a lust-crazed voice. He dogged Dorian's heels, wearing the smug and gaping grin of the predator who is sure of his meal. Dorian dared not slow down. Klaus was following him through his wary circlings around the parlor, and was moving with the hungry pace of a hunter slowly gaining on his prey.

"No, Major! I don't care what those Russians told you under hypnosis! You are not undergoing Ponn Farr!" Dorian pleaded, attempting to placate the advancing Eberbach, while trying to keep at least one piece of furniture between them at all times.

"Th'hyla," Klaus purred, rounding the sofa in three swift strides and gaining on him.

"I am not your th- whatever that is! You have to come back to yourself. A German, an Eberbach, a sensible twentieth century man," Dorian begged, loosening the fashionable scarf that was beginning to constrict his neck. He caught the troubled green eyes across the tea table and desperately sought some sanity in them. "Major, there Is No Psychic Sex Bond!"

Klaus snapped into a short sprint, and Dorian scrambled to get away. After three laps around the parlor, both paused a moment to pant. Dorian peered nervously over the back of a large armchair, hair dishevelled and eyes wild. Klaus just looked hungrier than ever.

"Kroykah!" yelled Klaus, as he tackled the armchair in a burst of brute strength, trapping Dorian beneath it.

GB: Popcorn, anyone?

K: "Captain. Not in front of the Klingons."

Dorian's eyes got even wider as he groaned under the combined weight of Major and armchair. "This is a great look inside your psyche," he went on bravely, attempting to remain coherent. "Will you really want to share it with the Russians? That young interrogator with the fondness for science fiction undid your inhibitions in such a unique manner. Probably expected you to chase a barmaid or something. Bad enough that you chased me!" he stopped, overwhelmed momentarily by the strain.

Klaus inched closer across the fallen chair, prolonging the moment of victory.  "Do you want the KGB to see you catch me?"  Dorian gasped, making a last desperate grasp for reason, trying to reach the man he loved deep within the heart of the beast. "They bugged the room specifically to catch your downfall!"

Klaus rubbed his face on Dorian's right hand as it lay pinned next to his face. Dorian shuddered in unwelcome pleasure. "The green blood of my ancestors burns for you," Klaus purred, shaking his dark unruly hair out of his eyes.

"Stop it!" Dorian cried, flinching away. "Listen to yourself! This isn't you! I've seen you shot, and that blood was not green!"

"I throb with fever!" Klaus growled, and siezed his mouth in a ferocious kiss.

"Where's a starship captain when you need one!" Dorian moaned before finally giving in.


Schloss Eberbach welcomed her long-absent official owner back from his self-imposed Swiss exile.

Heinz Gunther von dem Eberbach climbed the great steps with a pained, reluctant gait that was far removed from his usual forceful stride. He had called claiming urgent business with his son, but now on the doorstep, he expressed a curious hesitance at the prospect of addressing the subject.

“Father,” asked Klaus, “will you not come in?”

“Oh, of course,” he said, as if he had been thinking about something else entirely.

“Let us take your coat,” said Dorian Red Gloria, and turned to the butler. “Dominic, would you take Herr Eberbach’s overcoat for him?”

The butler helped the older gentleman remove his coat, disappearing soundlessly with the garment as the masters walked through the front hall.

“You have had a long journey, sir,” Klaus von dem Eberbach said. “Perhaps some coffee might be in order? I believe we still have some of your preferred lebkuchen on hand.”

Dorian caught Klaus’s eye and shook his head. “We do have some, do we not?” Klaus asked.

“You finished it on Thursday last,” Dorian reminded him.

K: Aww. Aren't they domestic!

GB: "No, Dad, we're not a couple, honest." Mmm hmmm. Yep. You need truly Germanic levels of denial to sell that line or buy it.

“It’s of no matter,” Herr Eberbach stated. “I have come to speak with my son on vital matters that will wait no longer. You will excuse us?”

Finally ensconced in the family library, both generations of Eberbachs seated themselves. The elder of the two remained characteristically ill at ease.

“Now, you know that issues of succession have always been a deep worry to our family’s heart,” Heinz explained to his son, hesitantly. “Sometimes the pressure of such hopes may tempt a man toward wrong and deceitful actions under the mask of duty. I want you to understand this.”

Klaus shook his head. “That much I know. I am a man grown, and I hope, an honorable one. Such thoughts are not new to me, sir. I appreciate your concern, but have I given you cause to doubt my fiber?”

“No,” said his father quietly. “It is my own fiber that I doubt. There is something that I must speak with you about, although it is more difficult than I can say. Something that I have kept from you for the whole of your life. I still do not know if I can bring myself to say it.”

“You would not have come here in such a fashion if you could not,” answered the younger Eberbach, steeling himself as if for a blow. “I have never had cause to doubt your courage, sir.”

Heinz closed his eyes and spoke in a soft, determined voice. “Klaus, I am a homosexual.”

This was hardly where the Eberbach heir had expected this conference to go. “Pardon?”

“My great shame, of course,” the old man went on, “Was your mother. I do not expect you to forgive me that. She was young, well-born, and very kind. Although I remained faithful, she did not take well to her discovery of my wayward heart. I will always wonder if it killed her.”

Klaus was still thunderstruck, but his face began to open with the first signs of relief. He was about to speak, but his father motioned him to silence.

“No,” his father went on, “It might have seemed like the honorable choice, but it was a terrible injustice. My only consolation has been that she gave me a strong son, free of my weakness and free of my taint. I do not revile my own nature, but I must admit that I am extremely glad you are normal.”

K: PSYCHE!

“Really?” Klaus choked out, all relief blotted with a certain mix of disbelief and horror. “Forgive me for asking, sir, but why have you chosen to reveal this to me now?”

Herr Eberbach’s expression turned cagey, as he tried to sweeten an unpleasant fact. “There is a certain memoir which will soon see publication. It is probably nothing, but I did not wish you to hear it from him.

“In any event,” he explained with returning dignity, “I suppose a son ought to know his father, but you were always so straight, so strong, so traditional. I did not wish to hurt you, but you are old enough to understand.”

“Perhaps I am,” said his son.

“I know I have often mentioned your familial duty and the importance of finding a nice girl,” Heinz explained in a tone that nearly approached sympathetic. “But you were always so withdrawn, so wrapped in your own work. I was worried. On reflection, I see that I should have told you that I do not wish you to make a smaller, less grievous repetition of my own mistake.

“Still, I am relieved to have seen the direction your life has taken these past two years. You are a young man, and it is good that your new companion has convinced you to get out more,” he told his son. “I hear tell that he has been quite a good influence on you in his time here.”

“Yes,” Klaus admitted carefully, looking away. “I have never had cause to regret his influence on my life.”

The older man smiled. “The two of you must cut quite a swath through the ladies. Why, only last week I saw you with this sweet little blonde. You don’t need to deny it to me, I’m a man of the world. You have good taste, boy, and it’s nice to see that you’re discreet instead of celibate. ”

K: Parents.

“That was G,” his son explained.

“So, you remember her name?” Herr Eberbach asked indulgently. “Gyi! The things girls call themselves these days!”

“So you take no issue with my lifestyle?” his heir inquired.

“Some men are too full of animal spirits to settle down early,” his father admitted, rising to leave the library. “There’s no shame in that so long as you’re honorable about it. Why, I knew this nice Lieutenant Rosen during the war, and he was just like you. A terror among the women, but a devoted officer. Very faithful.”

K: Note the Desert Peach reference. And Rosen stopped being a terror among the women when he met a certan Colonel....

GB: More on this in yet another AU, this one not written by me: Peach Stones in the Entanglements universe. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

“You will stay for dinner?” Klaus asked, getting up to follow him.

“Of course,” said Heinz. “And may I say that I love what he’s done with the dining room?”


The sparkling light of morning shone on the early May dew and upon the golden tresses of the noble Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach's one true love.

  The leaves on the houseplants sparkled, the birds outside the window sang beautifully, and the love of his soul looked back at him with joyful eyes.

"Hildegarde Rhiannon Carelis, I love you!" he proclaimed to Z's beautiful and talented long-lost American sister, the woman who had stolen his heart in less than a week. "Only you can make me forget the shameful urges of my heart! My love for you outshines even my love of blond young men!"

     No words could fully express his admiration for this wonderful woman with her three Phd’s and the brilliant mind that had reorganised NATO in seven short blissful days, but his long, loving stare into her brilliant silver eyes came close to doing so.

"Oh, Klaus!" Hildegarde exclaimed, embracing him. "How long have I waited for you to say this to me! Let us get married and have dozens of fat German babies who shall learn to sing Edelweiss!"

     Together, they were lost in a sea of love by the office window as the Alphabet looked on.

     "Edelweiss isn't a German song," grumbled B, unmoved by the scene before him.

     A shook his head at the lack of romantic feeling in his coworker. B just didn't get it. The sacrifice that the Major had just made! "Don't you realize how much he must love her to not mention that?"

GB: That's the line I'm proud of. It's easy to take potshots at Mary Sues. It's harder to find a way to make fun of canon at the same time.


The musk of the bougainvillea blooms hung heavy in the tropical air as Klaus passed a thick stand of trees and the remote villa came into view. It was three miles from the nearest village, and much farther from the nearest port or city. There was nothing but mountains, jungle, and pineapples for miles around.

K: Whenever an author mentions bougainvillea, you know the story's going to be sexy. Bougainvillea=sex.

GB: Ah, tropical paradise.

Eroica might have thought his retreat was untraceable, but Klaus had been following the man for weeks, refusing to be foiled.

He didn't want a favor, he didn't want an arrest, and he certainly didn't want to talk business. There was an old score to be settled, and it was being settled in Dorian Red Gloria's personal favor.

Klaus doubted that the Earl would hold such an intrusion against him. He ducked under the low-hanging branch of a soursop tree, and brushed away some vines that obscured his entrance to the porch.

He climbed the steps to the villa's entrance, rapping on the front door smartly.

He could hear the thief's light quick strides on the other side of the plaster walls. There was some trouble with the latch, and then the door pulled open.

Dorian's thin cotton shirt hung half open, and his hair was tied back in a messy queue. Eroica squinted at him and the brightness of a tropical noon through the irritated blue eyes that had been the Major's downfall.

Klaus found himself unable to speak.

"What do you want?" Dorian asked, looking unimpressed. The infamous Eroica had left three months ago, declaring that even art thieves need vacations, and had vanished entirely, not even contacting his loyal retainers. Apparently he wasn't ready to return to civilization yet.

Klaus tried not to look too nervous. He was a military man, after all, even off duty. He should not flinch from decisions he had already made, especially ones that he did not intend to regret.

Some of his turmoil must have showed, for Dorian stared at him, measuring and skeptical.

"Not...." the Earl trailed, unbelieving

It had been a very long three months. It had been far too long to hold any secrets from him, with nothing else to do but brood and do paperwork.

Klaus von dem Eberbach was an expert spy, and no one could hide the truth from him forever. Not even himself

Dorian apparently saw something, because light began to dawn in his eyes. "Really?" he asked, hardly daring to hope.

Klaus could do nothing but nod.

Dorian took him by the hand and drew him into the house, dragging him past the pink sitting room, through a hall decorated in colorful hangings, and into the bedroom.

He sat down on the bed, but Klaus just stood there, looking at him expectantly. "So,” said his unexpected visitor. “You finally have me where you want me."

Dorian smiled, supremely happy. "Mmm, yes."

"So," Klaus said, continuing to stare.

"So?" he asked.

The Major seethed. This was where the thief was aupposed to take over! "So what happens now? I am not an expert on such things and you have..."

"No, I haven't." he said, opening his bedside drawer to inspect an impressive collection of unopened oil vials.

"Not ever?” Klaus barked. “You can’t be a…”

“And why not?” Dorian asked him sharply. “I prefer to think of it as having very selective tastes.”

“All of the men you have chased,” Klaus asked, incredulous. “Not ever?”

Dorian nodded, smug. “I consider myself a very valuable commodity! I would hardly waste myself on the unworthy.”

K: And with this, GB becomes the only fanficcer besides me to take the oft-given and seldom-met Virgin!Eroica challenge!

GB: See, K? No secret societies needed, either.

K: Oh, sure. Take the easy way.

GB: Hey! It was hard restraining myself from using the line "Be gentle with me, Klaus."

K: Eek. Thank you for your self-control.

GB: I only managed it out of fear of the resulting lynch mob.

K: Which I would have led.

GB: Well, yeah. Goes without saying. Sheesh. Can't you take a joke?

This was not an idea Klaus had been prepared for. “Surely you have some experience, some plan? What do we do next?"

Dorian pulled him onto the bed, laughing in sheer joy. "Heavens, I don't have the slightest idea. But oh, won't it be fun finding out!"

K: And with those words, the career of a brand new Eroica ficcer is ushered in!

GB: Go forth and spread the joyous insanity. AUs and free slash for everybody! Too bad I seem to have passed out in the doorway.

K: Ah, yes. Welcome to the League of PG-13 Slashers.

GB: What, you mean the one I got kicked out of for R-rated man/spaceship slash?

K: You've written enough curtain-blowers since then to earn a dispensation.

GB: Until the next time I start speculating about Mothra and Godzilla... But don't worry. I'll come back to haunt you when you least expect it!


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