Author's Notes: This is my first piece of work published on this site! It's a Clintasha/BlackHawk AU story qnd I'm posting the first chapter to see how people like it and I will make it a multi-chapter story if you guys think it's okay(so please read and review!) I've tried to make everything as accurate as possible but I don't know much about a dancer's life or schedule, sorry for that. If there is any inaccuracy / you've got more information please let me know, thank you!

Also this is my first long story written in English (not my mother tongue), so if you spot any grammar mistakes or illogical stuff, or if you have any suggestions, please let me know too, thank you:)

Celine

Once upon a time.

Once upon a time there was a swan queen named Odette, who was a victim of a spell cast by an evil sorcerer. Then there was a carefree prince who met Odetta on a hunting trip. He got to know about her misfortune and swore to love her forever. However, at the grand Royal Ball the next day, the aforementioned sorcerer Von Rothbart arrived with his daughter Odile who'd transformed to Odette through magic and the prince mistook her for his true lover. Just as he vowed his love for Odile and was about marry her, that powerful yet stupid villain Von Rothbart showed him a freaking vision which caused him realise his mistake and hurries back to the lake to Odette.

An eight-year-old can tell you the rest of the storythe pair reaffirmed their love and chose to die and ascent to Heaven together and, as the script described, 'forever united in love.'

According to most people, it was the most beautiful tragedy ever, and according to the dancers Clint knew and himself, it means so much to be in the A-cast of the season's Swan Lake. He remembered how everyone around knew this story by heart ever since they started school and how many of the boys said they want to be Prince Siegfried on day one.

It was supposed to be a simple story. The hero and heroine go through all the trials and up-and-downs, and either end up happily ever after or leave us a tragic ending. That's it. Prince Siegfried the hero and Princess Odetta the heroine. Together they beat Von Rothbart the great villain and his daughter and lived happily ever after. If not a happy ending then at least the audience's hearts belong to them. Honestly no one gave a second thought to Odile. She was just a tool to help with the plot. No one was going to care about her. It was meant to be beautiful, simple story for us people without magical powers. But she was different, at least for Clint. She was that beautiful swirl of black he was never going to forget.

Clint being Clint Barton was not going to stop at that ending. He had never believed in shiny armours or magic kingdoms—he was a man and men always do all the hard work in such a story (well except that time Alice sliced the Jabberwocky, but that doesn't exactly count as 'such a story'?) , not to mention he wasn't some lucky prince born with a silver spoon.

He may not have magic, but that certainly didn't stop his imagination from traveling a few hundred miles to some unexplored place. You do not just sort people into the good and bad piles. It'd only be fair that ugly evil witches and wizards all had their own stories. That was definitely the smarter and more attractive part of the story.

As for the story, the worst thing was that they didn't even mention Odile at the end. Wasn't she a great character? Wasn't she worth exploring a little deeper? There was no way she just magically vanished into thin air without anyone noticing, right?

BAM.

Time for an alternative view.

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Odile.

Clint slowly walked along a corridor in the theatre, letting his thoughts slip to the black swan again.

Now that the season was coming and they didn't have performances these days, he now spent extra time after regular classes to practice. He would go to Steve's bakery around the corner to have a quick rest and chat with his friend, and then drag his feet back to the rehearsal room. He loved wandering down the busy streets of New York City and just feeling the air. He loved staring up at the Met, searching for the almost invisible stars in the sky (what a shame!) and remembering entering this building as a child in excitement, and later, walking out with a dream.

He loved the feeling of being alone in a classroom, hand on the barre, steady and comfy just like every time he dances on stage. He had discovered that feeling long ago when he was still a student, and the habit gave him great help all the way.

She was born in a family of magic. Her mother was a witch. She was a kindest and most warm-hearted woman, and when she changed into a swan, it was the most beautiful creature in the world. Her father Odile did not know. She tried asking but her Ma would say nothing. She only knew that it was of no use to ask again, and the magical power shared between she and her mother must be kept a secret. And so, together they lived a peaceful and happy life in a cottage by the lake, in a forest.

Clint had never thought about Odile's childhood before. One of his classmates said she was just brought up by her father, the evil Von Rothbart as the story led people to believe so. But at this moment it felt like there were several universes existing in Clint's head with possibilities. And damn it wasn't his fault that possibilities were beautiful.

And here we insert 'one day' to start the main plot.

'Ma?'

'Yes, darling?'

'Will I be a swan pretty as you?'

'Of course you will. You will grow into a fair woman and a prettiest swan.Remember that in your veins flows the blood from the oldest and most powerful family of wizardry. You will be able to do all the magic as long as you-'

'-don't tell others about our secret. Why? What would happen if someone told others?'

'I myself have no idea dear. Your grandfather used to warn me that anyone who did that would live a most painful life. No one is looking forward to seeing whether it's true or defining "painful", of course.'

'And I certainly won't. I promise I won't.'

The slender woman smiled adoringly at her daughter and nodded.

'Okay darling. What do you want to do this afternoon?'

'Learn some new tricks? Or watch you play them?'

Clint smiled softly as the image of a little girl in a flowery sundress making a promise to her mother entered his mind. A wooden house surrounded by thick green and in the middle of nowhere. The warmth of dim orange light radiated through clear glass which was decorated with ivory and dove-grey windowsills. A slim and mild woman doing garden work around the house in a smocked white apron and just enjoying some time with her daughter, her own princess. He ignored that part of his mind that wanted to chuckle at the contrast between this lovely scene and a beautiful, sultry dark force. Everything just all sounded like the perfect, perfect life he had quitted wishing for himself but could never stop hoping to see in other people's lives.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the forest lived an evil wizardwhose name was Von Rothbart, of course. He had wrinkled yellow skin and his scary legs were like those of a crane's. His malformed nose and chin made you have goose bumps and he whispered who-knows-what to himself all the time. There was dark, poison-like mist around his house, protecting its master and providing deadly silence. He had had his eyes on Odile and her mother since long ago, for he knew that the power their family held was something he'd never experienced and would help him seize the greatest power in this country and take over the throne. The problem was that, how could he achieve that evil wish?

Let's get our attention back to our girl.

Little Odile didn't suspect that she would have to go through that toughest trial in her life on that very same day. All she could remember was being alone and waiting for her Mama late at night, only to hear a knock on the door.

Odile carefully opened the window and saw a boy a few years older than her. A young man, if she ignore the traces of a child on his face.

'Are you here to bring me a message from my mother? Is she not coming home tonight?' Same thing had happened before. Sometimes her mother would decide that she needed something at the market far from home. She would fly home or send a message to Odile, using her magic and come back the next day. Odile was only a little worried because normally her mother wouldn't give some other random people their home address. Probably she's surrounded by people and has to ask someone's son to bring home a message, she tried to stay calm.

'You are Odile? It was quite a trip to reach your house, girl.'

'Yes and stop complaining. What did my mother say?'

'Wellshe said sorry. And I'm sorry, too.'The stranger put a beautiful black feather on the windowsill. 'I think she's never coming back, and I'm truly sorry for that. She said she had cast some sort of a spell around the house so that you would have all things you need and grow up to be aprettiest swan? Honestly I have no idea what she's saying. Forgive me for saying this but she did looka little mad. You're not a bird or a witch, are you?'

She's never coming back.

'WhaWhat happened?' Odile's heart was filled with confusion and fear. She told to herself that she had heard it wrong despite that a tiny part of her mind kept denying that.

'I was walking down the street and ready to go back home when she grabbed me and ask me to bring you this message. She seemed to be avoiding someone, though. I heard a gunfire and it looked like a king's man fired a bullet. Then she vanished and leaved this feather. Thought I'd bring it to you, too.'

'That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.' Her voice was incredibly shaky and faint now. Inside her mind a voice screamed so fiercely as of it wouldn't stop until she's too numb to feel it. Another voice told her to shut the window and go to sleep and next morning she'd wake up from her mother's tickles.

'Who in his right mind would go against the King? They say he's become more anxious as the Queen is about to give birth to his very first child,' he sighed. 'Again I'm sorry. If you need anything, I live with my Pa and Ma about ten miles away on the east side of the forest, okay?' The young man touched his hat, nodded and left.

Odile forced herself to look at the feather. It was as black and dark as coal and was sparkling with orange and purple hues. She thought about Mama's garden and attic and knew she wasn't alone. But she wanted her mother back so badly.

You must not cry. You must not cry. You must not cry.

Crying didn't work wonder to bring back a loved one.

There were a night she watched and shouted fiercely as the swan burnt itself in striking blue flames like a phoenix. Only that even though the swan had magic, it was no bird of wonder. It didn't rebirth like a phoenix. The flame decreased to a size that could almost be carried around in a bottle.

She woke up but that image refused to leave. It made her feel an almost uncontrollable will to force out something in her body. The power she held. And that was the first time she used her magic. Her power, which she later would often imagine as beams of fluorescent ocean blue light as bright as fire and as illusory as mist, ghostedthrough miles and miles of tall trees that seemed to poke the sky and was caught by the evil Von Rothbart. He used this opportunity to add a little flavour to Odile's magic and together they formed a great spell. He cast the spell on the king's family and a few days later the man who fired his rifle was trembling in a deadly fever. Before it took away his life like he did others', he dreamt of the swan he'd met several days ago.

Sounded like the bad man got his much deserved ending. But happily ever afters? There are no happily ever afters. The reality was that twisted fate didn't end when the villain was killed. The nightmares didn't stop when the dark power was eliminated. Revenge only relieved a mere fraction of anger and pain. There were things that were meant to stay forever. The scars remained for a lifetime and those memories haunted the princess day and night.

What is next? What brings to the second part of the story? Odile's spell didn't stop there, for only a few days after the death of the man, the Queen give birth to a girl (much to the whole court's disappointment, of course) whom they named Odette and in her dreamdidn't it always happen in dreamsshe was told about the destiny of this poor, unblessed swan princess.

-o0o0o0o0o-

Tap, tap, tap.

His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed a sound of a pointe shoe tapping on the wooden floor. Who is that? A wonderful thing about being in the theatre so late was that no one would be here except himself. As much as he liked to share his training time with fellow dancers, Clint found it nice to have some quiet time of his own.

Who is that sole dancer in this place where magic happens?

Tracking the noise, he stopped at the nearest classroom. He quickly realised the source of that sound.

Natasha Romanoff.

Principal dancer from Russia. She has been working here since only this September and no one really knew her. For several times when Steve stopped to have a break before all the other customers hit the café, Clint chatted with him about her, and hell he had been teasing about that since then!

(God, Clint, it you can't stop bothering me about that girl, why don't you just talk to her and figure all this out? I know I know I'm not an expert but this time you should just listen to me!)

Nope nope he wasn't going out with random dancers in his company even if she had got astonishing legs. The girl was no more than 21, Clint guessed as he hadn't checked her information on the website and didn't want to, either. And a high rank dancer in Mariinsky, he knew about that on the first day when she introduced herself as a Mariinsky principal and former Vaganova student. And indeed, she was skilled. She arrived early at class, practised harder than anyone else and was awfully good at what she did. She ate alone and little (Does she even eat at all? Clint thought about the nutty salad and biscuits in his dance bag and wondered what he would do without them) and generally a quiet person. In fact, so quiet you can't tell if she was in her own world or just didn't bother to get into others' business. There was never a hint of fun on her face!

Not much of a wonder, though. Beautiful, cold Russian ballerina, coded with the Vaganova system and crowned with pride.

Clint had always adored the Russian ballet, but he didn't really know it in depth. He could nearly recognise every principal and sometimes soloist in Mariinsky and Bolshoi. Tchaikovsky's music? He had known them by heart since maybe eight. But how the dancers are trained? He had no idea. He knew it was partly the same hard, exhausting progress they had all been through, but he also had heard that it was only much stricter in Russia. Long limbs, delicate neck and head, perfect extension and techniques. He'd watched those videos, seen those picture that said enough about perfection.

Leaning against the door, he gave a faint smile to the Russian dancer in the room. Natasha smiled back and they exchanged a nod. Clint took that as a permission to enter the classroom.

She was still in her dancing wear, crimson hair tucked neatly into a bun. Since most ballerinas Clint knew liked their accessories in pale or bright colours, he could tell that she was a lover of black. Isn't that obvious-black leotard, black skirt and leg warmers. She'd got her shawl and tights in a dull pink and Clint had to admit they looked really great on her. All in the simplest style but everything seemed pretty comfortable, and that's the most important rule.

Natasha sat near the piano, legs spread out and a pointe shoe in her hand. Clint could see that the shoe had been prepared and ripped a little, and he guessed she was just trying to break it a bit.

'New shoes?'

She nodded. 'I bought these from Russia.'

'You can get shoes from the company you know that.'

'Next time maybe. I've got another pair from Russia.' She pointed into her dance bag.

Gotta save'em for memory, then.

'I thought no one would be up this early.'

'That was my opinion, too.' Clint paused then added, 'do you Russians always practice after class?'

'I do. Used to arrive at class at nine and go home at ten.'

Wow. That was the secret of our gifted girl. Realising the stress she put on the word I, he made a mental note not to put 'Russians' after 'you' next time.

'When I was in school, I got up at, like, six. I just wished I could stay in bed a bit longer instead of being out of bed still half asleep. It was so cold and dark outside and my mind didn't seem to start functioning until half of my first class had passed.' Clint smiled nostalgically as he recalled his bittersweet days as a ballet school student.

Natasha snorted slightly and brought Clint back to reality. Yet and here they were. Of course no one wanted to work their asses off like that but if you asked them to walk out of the classroom, no one would either. That was what made them dancers. And those who pushed themselves harder than anyone else and make themselves stay ahead made good dancers.

Natasha finished prepping the shoe and tossed it in her dance bag. She put on an old pair of light blush-coloured pointe shoes, got up and stood by the barre.

'The sum-up? A combination of your own?' Clint asked. They would do combinations together in class every day but a few hours each day was quite enough for Clint. He himself always did something different from the boring routine for his day to end 'properly' and that was how he'd created the word sum-up. Natasha was quiet and usually over-polite, but he highly doubted she was that obedient to stick to everything taught in school.

He received a nod which indicated he was right about his guessing, and which left him in an awkward position. Should he join her, since he was in his dancing gear too? Or maybe she's comfortable with an unexpected audience? Somehow Clint felt that she had enjoyed her solitude so far, and he couldn't feel even a teeny-tiny sense of uncertainty around her.

Obviously Natasha hadn't the patience for him to think—her right hand was on the barre already and she was in a basic first position with her natural grace. She seemed comfortable. Therefore, Clint decided to make himself comfortable, too. After tilting his head to the front of the rehearsal room and receiving a nod from Natasha, he quietly walked to another barre in front of hers and took out his salad. Hmm he took down a mental note to thank Steve later for the yummy-looking food. He was careful to check Natasha's expression when she saw the salad (since he guessed she had a spoonful of dinner after rehearsal and she was more or less starving right now), and started to enjoy his remaining dinner after making sure the cold Russian lady wasn't going to kill him for showing a food trigger.

-o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o-

'You are a good dancer.' And a ballerina who can turn a combination in an early morning into a splendid performance.

'Thank you.' Natasha said as they sat down against the mirror. Oh, those words meant that much. It was a simple statement but both of them knew that it was something so rare, a great honour. Not a lot of people had said to them. And when the sentence was heard, it was usually on great, formal occasions. Personally Clint thought he probably could count the times he heard those words with one hand.

To be honest, all dancers had such experience-on the graduation day, the first day in the company, and so on. (Well, maybe not everyone had the chance to be congratulated as soloists and principals.) However, Clint got an uneasy feeling that he had a bond with the Russian in front him.

He turned to Natasha and was greeted by the faintest smile he'd ever seen.

Okay, that girl doesn't talk or smile much. But if Clint was going to work with her this entire season, he had to know something more than her being a great ballerina. He wanted to know something about her, personally. Besides, the girl got his attention from the first day like the black swan.

'So…you lived in all you life before you came here?'. Clint asked as they sat down for a rest.

She simply gave a nod. 'I was born in England, which explains the English version of my name.'

'Natalia Romanova sounds pretty nice too.'

'Well, that's how everyone in Russia called me.' She turned to face him, surprised by the fact that he knew the Russian variation of her name.

'You leave your family there?' He felt the stare so he turned to look at her, too. Gosh he remembered those sharp green eyes from the rehearsal earlier, but he honestly had no idea why they were so breathtaking now.

'Not really.' She turned back to face the grey wall, her face blank.

'Why—sorry that was none of my business.'

'Indeed.'

Clint didn't ask if she learnt that perfect English from her parents, either. She spoke with a slight mixture of British and Russian accents, which was adorable.

He swallowed the urge to ask more about her personal life. Clint had always tried to be open about himself and there wasn't really much he would kept a secret. But he remembered the first few years after he had lost his parents; he had thought about them all the time. Maybe she had a similar experience, or worse. And from those years he lived with his grandma, politeness he had learnt. There was no need to recall bad memories.

'Do you people always pry into others' lives like that?' Natasha interrupted his thoughts.

'Well I'm just curious! Plus technically that wasn't so personal…fine I guess it was to you.' Clint quickly added after seeing Natasha's expression. There were so many things he wanted to know about her! He wanted to know her favourite music and books (and maybe food), what her childhood looked like, how she was brought up, even her preference when it came to salad dressing.

'So what's Vaganova like? That's assuming you graduated from that school before joining Mariinsky?' He changed the subject to avoid more awkward conversation on her family.

Natasha chuckled slightly. 'It shall always my favourite ballet school in the world, of course. Not much to tell, though. You people train hard here, and back in Russian we did it even harder and that's it. And we got some of the best teachers. Some of them were scary. Others weren't so frightening to be in the same room with.'

'Frightening?' Clint knew there were teachers and choreographers who were impossible to please and always spoke with a tone, but frightening was not going to be his choice of word when it comes to the teachers, after all these years.

'Yeah. Some teachers made me quite uncomfortable. But I've gone through it now and things became better when I worked my way up to the soloist and then principal.'

Ah that was probably the longest sentence so far? There was a determination in her voice-something Clint was quite familiar with. On those lonely nights in the boarding school, when he got snide remarks from his teachers and missed his grandma, he would tell himself to practise harder. He would stay in the classroom after class and practise the techniques until every single movement was spotless. He would go to bed with his hope and plan for tomorrow, always wishing to be the best.

And he did it. He walked out of the Academy the first in his class, proud written all over his face. In some way, he felt that Natasha had the experience.

That was one more thing they shared, then.

'Some twenty years later when I am a teacher, I guess I'll try to be nice.'

'Oh no years later you'll just be the same ill-tempered, picky teacher or director as almost every teacher I know.' Natasha raised one eyebrow and teased.

WooIce queen told a joke! Next second the glare from Natasha made Clint so glad he'd kept that sentence to himself.

'That's so not true!' He replied instead, half joking half imagining himself to be the most popular teacher in the school for being nice to every student.

'That's the truth I know.' Natasha shook her head, a smile on her face so that Clint knew she wasn't serious.

'Watch me.'

She snorted again. Clint didn't say anything after that. He just felt nice sitting there. They fell back to silence for a while. Clint let his thoughts slip back to the black swan.

Time flied by and Odette grew like any pampered, unworried princess. Only that she had a face that looked exactly like Odile's, and her mother worried every day about the coming of her daughter's 15th birthdayin the dream it had said that the spell would start to work as the clock struck twelve and she became fifteen.

It was only one month before the nightmare began. On night, Odette was called into her room and there her mother waited. The woman was forced to tell her daughter about her destiny. Odette wept and cried about why she was going to be tortured by such fate.

'My dearest daughter! If only this can be a little comfort for you! If a prince who has never loved come to find you by the lake and swears to love you forever, the spell will be broken. But you must remember that Von Rothbart must not die before it or you'll remain a swan forever.'

That made sense, didn't it? Clint thought to himself as he watched Natasha while she was shooting burning stares at her dance bag. He was almost sure the only reason for Prince Siegfried to be attracted to Odette was her holy white feathers. What a fool that girl would be if she hopelessly believed the prince's words!

On the day of the Royal Ball, Von Rothbart knocked on the door of Odile's wooden house and entered without invitation. Every piece of interior almost remained the same as more than ten years ago. Only the girl had become even more beautiful and independent through all there years of living alone (which was nothing easy, even with the help of magic). He had seen her many times in his magic crystal ball, for sure; but it was different to see the real Odile without barriers. She had lost her innocence but gained something new, a mixture of glowing glamour and danger.

'You shall do me a favour, Odile.' There was no need to sit down and wait for tea from the hostess.

'Why?' Odile had never liked the sorcerer, though she had no personal reason to hate him, either.

'Don't you want to take revenge on the man who took away your mother?'

Odile froze. She had learnt to let go and lived on, but revenge didn't sound like a bad idea at all.

'You'll need to follow my orders then.' Von Rothbart said with a wicked smile. 'All you need to do was to attend the Royal Ball tonight, and make good use of your beauty. Seduce the prince.' Von Rothbart dropped his instructions before he left, leaving only thin smoke in the room.

Odile was confused. What did revenge had to do with seducing a prince? But she as hell wasn't going to pay a visit to the wizard's lovely haunting house so she made up her mind and started to prepare for the party.

Von Rothbart only tripped Odetta in the forest so that after he showed the Prince the vision, he would go into the forest and then he would take care of them both, Clint imagined. After that, he was going to manipulate Miss Black Swan and use her magic to make up for his loss fifteen years ago when someone chased that woman and make her disappear. Then he would take over the throne when everyone else was busy panicking. Clint could literally hear his evil laughs-'You humans are all fools!'

And Odile had made herself a fool by taking his words, too.

Nope. You just can't say her love for her family is stupid.

Speaking of family…

'I don't have a family back there. Not really,' Natasha broke the silence. 'I can hear you wondering in your mind.'

Clint wanted to say she didn't know what he was thinking, but luckily he managed to hold back the comment just before it slipped out.

'I'm sorry,' he replied genuinely.

'It's fine. I had loved my time as a dancer in Russian, and am not planning to ruin my career here.' They fell back into silence.

The peace broke when they heard someone else walking in the corridor.

'You don't really have friends here.' It was more of a statement than a question, and he knew he was crossing a line.

'I've always been fine on my own.' She shrugged.

Ooh, a slightly-pissed (seriously is that even a word?) Natasha sounded even more adorable. Clint didn't let it show, though.

'But you need someone!' He argued.

Natasha rolled her eyes and get up to the barre again.

'I doubt.'

The king's men also doubted when Odile arrived at the palace alone. The air around her smelled of power and grace, and if people were ever to link her with magic, it would be the strong, powerful kind.

The Prince didn't notice anything when he walked through the crowd to his lover. His soul now belonged to her eyes, her skin, her lipswhat do they say? Les fleurs de grenade qui fleurissent dans les jardins de Tyr et sont plus rouges que les roses, ne sont pas aussi rouges.

Her scent. The sweet, luxurious mixture of bourbon vanilla, jasmine and sandalwood. It wasn't the scent of pale despair and sheer happiness. It didn't link to a damsel in distress, nor did it say things about hopelessly in love. It smelled of mystery and seduction. It was ruby, diamond and rose gold. From that moment the Prince knew she wasn't his lover wearing black jewels instead of white. She was a different person.

But there she danced. She seemed to be flying with those swift steps, and for a moment the Prince thought she was turning to a swan and flying away there and then. She turned round after round, her dark-coloured jewels creating a spinning universe decorated by the soft chuckle from between those burning red lips. She was so close to him, yet her voice was foreign with too many secrets to tell.

And he was gone.

Watching Natasha dance was different, and technically it was just a combination. Some people just have the ability to make combinations look like great choreographies, Clint Barton, he sighed to himself. Sure enough he was more than happy to admire her body. When she moved, he could see the outline of her long, lean muscles. They weren't like those of an athlete's. They were far more delicate, almost like porcelain. She was so pale that there weren't much difference between the colour of her arms and that of her velvet-tights-clad legs.

What's more, he knew he was seeing the true Natasha, too. Nobody could hide their emotions so well when dancing, he thought. He could see how she focused on every little movement on her feet, and how she loved moving her arms to the music as if it had been the most amazing feeling in this whole world. He loved her slight frown when she thought a certain movement wasn't good enough, and the slight tilt on her lip corner when she completely melt into it.

He decided to jump to the end of the swan story since he didn't really have anything to add to the 'forever united in love' part. That part didn't consist of Odile, either.

Odile had told a guard that she needed a walk in the garden for some fresh air as she saw Von Rothbart appear in the ballroom and was about to show the vision. She quietly walked far into the garden so she wasn't bothered by other couples. There she heard the evil voice and panicked screams of some ladies as the Prince made his way out of the palace, and she knew what had happened, and what was going to happen.

She flew back home. Then she saw them. How he regretted, how they reaffirmed their love, how they chose to stay together forever. She saw him, too. She saw how he died when the spell was broken. She knew she should probably feel grateful, happy or at least somewhat relieved, because the pain eased a bit when Odile and her lover died and Von Rothbart did, too, and there was one more thing to be sure of. It felt like a proper closure. She inhaled, exhaled. And all she could think about was that she was all alone.

'Hi, you're Odile, right?' a familiar voice rang from her back. She turned around and see a familiar face. Ah yes. The boy who sent her that saddest news years ago. It brought back awful memories, but she struggled not to think too much.

'Yes, and I remember you.' She nodded.

'Just walked by and thought I'd have a check on youthe lights were off. That seldom happen, I mean.'

'I know. An eventful night, isn't it?'

'You are as calm and unreadable as you were when you were five, girl.' He shook his head.

'What do you want?' she was trying to be patient.

'Nothing. You know where I live. Now even though you seem to be doing pretty well, Mum always says we can't let you live on your own, girl.' He stopped, watching her lips part as if she wanted to say anything, and he was positive it was about the live-on-your-own thing, so he added, 'you are not alone.'

You are not alone.

The voice seemed some good distance away, and it felt strange to hear it from others.

You are not alone, girl, she silently whispered to herself just like she'd done 15 years ago.

'Thank you. I am perfectly fine on my own.'She replied.

And we all believe that was true.

Clint did, too.

'You know what I love about the black swan pas de deux?' Natasha's voice brought him back to the reality. She precisely lowered her feet and relaxed against the barre.

'Hey, didn't know you liked Swan Lake too.' He continued to stare at her with excitement. Not too many dancers favoured Swan Lake, and the fact that she did just made it a hundred times easier to work with her. 'You like the personality of Odile, don't you?'

'Yes. She's smart and brave and doesn't need others' rescue. I like her a lot.' Natasha smiled at the feeling of playing the black swan on stage. That was definitely her favourite part of the dance.

'And the display of technique?' Clint asked expectantly. He'd watched footages of her Swan Lake before and knew how steady she was with all the 32 fouette turns. He'd admire her for that single reason, if nothing else. Hell he'd liked everything about her so far.

'That makes me feel great, too.' She said softly.

This was the best day of his life. Do you just love the fouettes or the general feeling of doing turns and spinning around, cause slow dance is my next favourite, he thought.'You're done?'

'I guess so.' She walked back to her dance bag. His eyes followed her movement curiously.

'You really don't mind my watching?' Solitude was a thing. Space was, too.

She zipped close her dance bag and shook her head, smirking. 'As long as you tell where you got your dinner.'