FIC: 'Sic amat filium suum Deus' (M)

[March Hare]

Gods, I haven't been this inspired for a long time...

I just saw 'Amadeus' on television. I cannot tell you how much it has struck me, moved me, inspired me... I wish I could do better than this. but this, my friends, is just the beginning.

WARNING:written en condition lyrique. I cannot but agree, now, with those who deem Mozart a true genius.

NOTE: This story, told from Frau Mozart's point of view, is not supported by any factual information about the composer or his life - except the film. Any inconsistencies, anachronisms or other flaws I hereby request to be pointed out to me and will be set right.

---

"Wolfi?"

It must have been the middle of the night, or perhaps very early in the morning. A sound had woken me up - one I was not used to hearing at this time of night. Confusedly, I sat up in my bed, looking around and trying to overcome my drowsiness. It was dark, but a tiny glimpse of light peeked through the door, which stood ajar.

I heard the sound of my young son's breathing, deep and slow and tranquil; relieved that nothing seemed to be wrong there, I immediately perceived that, once again, I was the only one in this bed.

"Wolfi," I whispered again, half-expecting him to be around the room somewhere, perhaps sleep-walking or merely getting himself a drink of water.

He had not been well lately, often overcome by the queerest moods; he would either frantically write, bent over his papers and muttering furiously and incoherently, the mutterings interspersed with humming - or sit and stare ins Blaue hinein, not heeding any call from me or even our son, speechless and still, moving only to take yet another sip of wine...

It worried me, and the anxiety did not abate when I realized that he was not in the room, which could mean only one thing.

Carefully, I put my feet on the cold floor, unable to recover my slippers without the candle. I gathered up my robe from a chair next to the bed and wrapping it around me for warmth and decency, slipped out of the door and down the stairs, following the glimpse of light that seemed to come from the drawing-room.

The door of the drawing-room stood half open. As I approached on tiptoe, I heard the sound again, that odd sound that had woken me up despite its relative softness - a restrained, harsh coughing.

I bit my lips and, on an impulse, all but ran into the room.

He was sitting slumped in an armchair, his head in his hands and his elbows on the table, breathing fast and unevenly. The cursed wine-bottle stood at his elbow; an empty glass next to it. Sheets of paper, full of scores, lay strewn across the table.

"Wolfi, oh my love." I hurried up to him and knelt by his chair, putting my hands on his arm and shoulder. "My love, is anything wrong? Will you not come to bed? You must sleep." I knew I was rambling, but it was fear. He looked so very far away.

This time, though, he did take notice of me. Putting a very cold hand upon mine, he looked at me slowly, with eyes that held a slight wonder, as if he did not understand what I was doing there.

"Stanzi, it is all right." Then he sneezed suddenly - a harsh, hissing sound that horribly distorted his features, giving him a look of angry disturbance. I grabbed his arm involuntarily, concern washing over me like a wave.

"Wolfgang, are you ill?"

"Nein, mein Liebling." His smile was weak; it did not reach his eyes. Those fiery eyes, burning deep-set in his pale face. "It is just a slight chill... when I have finished this, I will take some rest. I promise." He bent over the paper again, scribbling with renewed vigour, humming incomprehensible snatches of tune that gave me the shivers.

It was odd... I had to admire him, so driven as he was by that unworldly genius that possessed him, so dedicated to his music. And yet I could see how much it took out of him, so much I almost could not bear it. I did not know what to do. I stood up, grabbing both his shoulders. He made a move as to shake me off, but he did not really pay attention to me. I tightened my grip.

"But I heard you cough, too. And I have heard it before. Wolfi... should I call a doctor?"

"No." His tone was harsh, icy. "I do not need a doctor. And do you not say all the time, that we are hard up? A good thing then, to waste money we do not have on a doctor."

That hard, impersonal note in his voice broke me. I let go of him and turned away, trying to swallow my tears, but it was no good. I sobbed as silently as I could, fearing that my crying would annoy him even further. But the noises could not be stifled.

And he heard. The sound of the quill racing over the paper suddenly ceased, a hand landed awkwardly upon my shoulder and I heard Wolfgang's voice, all the harshness and coldness now vanished "Stanzi, mein Liebling, meine Süsse*... do not cry. Do not cry, my dear. There is nothing to cry about."

"But I am worried," I sobbed. "I am worried to death about you. You work yourself into the grave and we never see a ducate... and you may well say that you are not sick, but you are not healthy, either... I can see it in your face..."

Then suddenly I felt his arm around my shoulders, and his other arm around my legs, lifting me clean off the ground. He held me tightly, securely, as if he'd never stumbled drunkenly about the house. True, he did stagger a little under the sudden weight, but his grip did not falter.

I opened my eyes and saw his face above mine, pale and gaunt and lined with stress, but his deep-set eyes kindly and lovingly gazing into mine. "Please, my love, stop worrying. I promise you, I will finish this as soon as I can. It is good, I can tell... the Emperor will be so pleased with me, we will have more than enough money again. And then..." he broke off suddenly, his breath wavering, his features slackening. His eyelids fluttered, his jaw trembled. He turned his face away from me and sneezed again, with eyes tightly shut and teeth clenching, "Hhkksshh... KSCCHTT!"

"Gesundheit," I whispered automatically, trying to suppress my flaring anxiety as I felt his frame trembling horribly with the deep, stifled sneezes. My utterance seemed to amuse him; he laughed briefly, a shadow of his high-pitched, cackling giggle, which I had found so charming when I first met him.

That little laugh reassured me more than all his words could do. I allowed him to carry me up the stairs and back into the bedroom, where he lay me down on the bed with infinite care and tenderness.

"Ich liebe dich," I muttered drowsily, closing my eyes. He stroked my brow, a tender, loving gesture.

"Sleep, meine Süsse. It will be all right..."

~ finis (? )

*mein Liebling, meine Süsse = my darling, my sweet

[count tiszula]

Sussigkeit!

I haven' been so plastereed for a long time.

But this is a fantyabulous story. One might almost say,,

Quem amat Deus....

No role for Sussmayr, butm this is really a somewhat irrelelvamt point. Anything that gets away fron F Murray abraham AS VIllian is an improvemaent.

I suspect than George Frideri c Handel often sneezd while living next door to Jimi Hendrix in Brook Street.

PS So much for sneezing and C18 death.

[shy guy]

Great story, very well written I loved the movie as well, although it's been a long time since I last saw it. I'm going to make it a point to watch it again soon!

I'd like to ask one favor: could you translate the title into English for me?

[tma]

This was really interesting.

I LOVED the movie, and I've seen the play several times too. Never really thought of sf fict. with it. But I am really enjoying it. And you are placing it at Such a good time.

I'd love to take a peek into Saliaris' mind as he spies on Mozart as he gets progessively more ill. But... obviously- one writes where the muse inspires.

I'd love to read more.

Thanks!

[March Hare]

*whew* I'm very glad you guys like it... I wasn't too sure it would go down

anyway... the title (yes I like to show off a bit now and then ) means: 'Thus God loves his son.'

tma, I like the idea of a story from Salieri's POV... who knows, I might give it a try

thank you all for your feedback!

[VoOs]

Oh, I love that movie! And I LOVE this story!!! I want more. Could we have some more? Pleeeease?

[Sneesee]

Oooohhhh, this was so good, sanne! Thank you for sharing it with us. Is there more, I wonder?

[Guest Maiden of Fire]

Ooh! Yay! I'm so happy! I loved this movie! It's one of my favorites! I love it so much! *is determined to go watch it again tonight*

But this is such a great fic! Amazing! And it follows the feel of the movie so perfectly! Now, I'm going to go read it again!!!

Wonderful job!

[Geist]

You realize I had to put on an obnoxious Mozart flute concerto whilst reading that, don't you?

OMFG, I LOVED that movie and I LOVE Mozart as well!! VERY well done, my dear! Very, VERY refreshing change and wonderful style!

~Aku, who really needs to effing post some writing, but is lazy.

[threedaysofrain]

How did I miss this one??

I went back and was reading some posts that were put up over my spring break, when I didnt have access to a comp....and this was one of them. I JUST watched Amadeus for the first time a few days ago in a class, and absolutely loved it! I thought it was brilliant, and Tom Hulce does such a good job of portaying Mozart....funny thing, I was thinking throughout the whole movie about how delicious he was and how much I would love to see his character sneeze!!

WONDERFUL job!! I know this thread is long since dead but I had to say something after I read it. It was beautifully written and I am truly impressed, Sanne! If you ever do another Amadeus fic, I will be your biggest fan ever...