A.N/ So, I'm not sure how to explain this. A plot bunny set in a vicious attack, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this. In contrary to my other story (don't worry, a chapter is coming on that one soon) I've got a plan for this, and will probably update regularly.

Eric is very young in this, in his early twenties, and Godric is a few years older. Take a look at the swedish movie Wings of glass (vingar av glas), if you'd like to see Alexander Skarsgard at that age. It's also a great movie. He doesn't wear tights in it though...

When it comes to the ballet facts, I have done some research. But I'm taking some liberties with the interiors of David H. Koch theatre (doesn't that just roll off your tongue?). I hope you don't mind;) For those who haven't been in New York, the theatre is located at the Lincoln Center for performing art. Here are just a few terms used that might need explaining.

Corps de ballet= roughly translates to "background dancers"

the Bolshoi Ballet= a ballet company in Russia, the largest in the world.

Now, this horribly put together AN has to end. So I'll end it now.

La Sylphide

OOC/AH/AU Slash. Eric is a young dancer performing at the New York City Ballet. Praised by critiques and audiences alike, and with a leading roll coming up, his life seems perfect. The key word here is seems.

Godric is an artist going to the theatre to sketch. He sees Eric, and his world is turned upside down…

Warnings: slash and in later chapters domestic abuse and violence. Further warnings will be put in the beginning of these chapters.

The sun shone brightly from the clear October sky, and the air was cool. Up ahead, the David H. Koch theatre showed itself from its best side, and Godric took a moment to marvel at the pillars and enormous glass windows. Some day, he would come here and draw the outside of the theatre, he decided, and made a mental note to bring a larger sketch book then.

"Would you hurry up?" Isabel called. She had already made it up the first steps by the entrance. "I'll be late!"

Godric smiled to himself. Always in a rush… "Doesn't your training start at three?" he called back, setting for the entrance. Isabel tapped her feet impatiently, and as soon as he'd caught up with her, she made her way to the doors.

"Yeah, so?" she questioned over her shoulder as she tugged the heavy door open.

"You've got more than half an hour, then," Godric pointed out with a lopsided smile. Isabel rolled her eyes and ushered him into the entrance hall.

"That may be the case, but I need to get to the changing room, and change clothes, and put on those damn shoes… And put my hair up," she listed and set off with long strides toward a door on the opposite side of the room. Godric strolled after her, his eyes wandering up the walls and to the very distant roof. He'd been here quite a few times before, but then it had always been very crowded. Before Isabel had been chosen to join the New York City Ballet herself, she had gone to uncountable numbers of performances, all to which she had dragged Godric. But she only had to actually force him to the first one. Then he'd come willingly.

Not that he was particularly interested in the ballets themselves. At least not the stories, as they to him seemed more or less the same. The dancers were the interesting part. Bodies in movement were always very fascinating to sketch, and ballet consisted of just that.

"Please, Godric!" Isabel shouted from across the room. "Would you stop staring at pillars and ceiling ornaments and get a move on?" Godric realized that his friend seemed dangerously close to having a nervous break down, and quickly walked up to her.

He followed Isabel through the door and through a corridor, then to another door, leading to a smaller corridor. And then down a stair, and through a new corridor.

"This place is like a maze," he muttered, trying to remember how they'd walked this far. Getting lost here did not seem like a nice idea.

"Yeah," Isabel agreed. "You better stay close to me."

They walked in silence for a while, as Godric thought about exactly how long one could wander around here without finding an exit.

"This is my stop," Isabel suddenly said and came to a halt by a door. "The dancehall we're going to be in is at the end of the corridor. You could go there, or wait here for me."

"I think I'll go. Seems nicer than sitting here and stare at the wall," Godric said and began walking down the hallway.

"You can speak to the choreographer then," Isabel suggested, still in the doorway. "Lafayette is great, but I've told you that already. And there will only be corps de ballet today, so no high-handed prima ballerinas-"

"I think I can handle it," Godric called over his shoulder. It seemed like Isabel was more nervous than him about this. "Relax. I promise not to embarrass you." There was a moment of hesitant silence, and then the door shut. Isabel had gone about fixing her hair then.

As he approached the slightly ajar door, he could hear music coming from the room. He stopped to listen. It was a classic piece, with strings and piano, although he couldn't name it. No other sounds were heard, and he carefully peered in through the small opening, almost expecting to find the room empty. It wasn't.

In one of the large mirrors, he could see a dancer. It was a male dancer, tall and slender with blond hair and pale skin. Godric watched in awe as he moved soundlessly over the floor. He seemed completely weightless, light as a feather. Every step was precise and perfect, and yet it appeared so effortless. Even the impossibly high leaps were done with the same ease. And the landings were just as soft and silent. His eyes were closed, and remained like that; not a single sign of exertion showed in his face.

A sudden thud made him wake up from his trance. He discovered that one of his drawing pads that had fallen to the floor.

The blond dancer too had heard the sound and stopped. He looked around in a way that reminded Godric of a startled deer. His eyes were blue, he saw now. Before the situation became awkward, he decided to announce his presence. He knocked, and the dancer turned to the door.

"Lafayette?" he wondered hesitantly. Godric opened the door and was met by a pair of surprised eyes.

"I'm sorry if scared you," he said and smiled. "It wasn't my intention."

"No, it's okay," the blonde responded with a slightly cautious smile of his own. "I thought it was my choreographer. But he usually doesn't knock. He's more the barging in type."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Godric laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm not the least bit choreographed. I'm just here for the next session. My name is Godric, by the way."

"Eric," the dancer said and extended a long-fingered hand. "I'm a dancer here. Although I guess you saw that."

"Yeah, I did. Not that I know that much about ballet," he admitted.

"I understood that," Eric said and smiled crookedly. Godric frowned in confusion, and was just about to ask what he meant when the door swung open and a dark-skinned, quite flamboyant man burst in.

"Eric, sweetheart, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," he exclaimed without taking his eyes from a clipboard he clutched in his hand. "I got caught up with Arlene and the costumes. We have to take in that shirt again-" he looked up, and halted abruptly, staring at Godric.

"Who are you?" he asked after a brief moment of silence. Godric smiled. That usually did the trick.

"I'm Godric-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Ah, Isabel's artist friend!" The man threw both his arms out and gave him a quite dazzling smile. Godric felt a bit uncomfortable. He wasn't very fond of the term 'artist'. It came with so much… pressure. Eric studied him curiously.

"It sounds more exciting than it actually is," he hurriedly explained. "I'm just working on a small art project about this theatre. And the dancers are the most interesting part, so I figured that was a good start. If whoever is boss here allows it, of course-"

"Oh Russell will just be delighted that someone gives the ballet some publicity. As long as it is on his conditions, of course. He's a real diva... like all old dancers… Myself included. Lafayette is my name, by the way. Constantly ignored, yet oh so ambitious choreographer here at he theatre."

Godric opened his mouth to ask who this Russell was. Isabel had probably told him that… and it was just as probable that he'd forgotten about it. Sometimes she talked so much that it was hard to sort the important bits out. However, Lafayette once again made a wild gesture, and exclaimed, "Dear lord and baby Jesus!" he turned to Eric. "Here I stand, just rambling on and on, and forget that I was supposed to send you up to the stage to Russell! If you're late, he'll kill me! Not to mention you. Better hurry up, darling." Eric nodded and moved towards the door. He bent down and swept up a hoodie that he pulled over his head in the same motion. Godric found himself staring at his ass for an inappropriately long time. Which in actuality meant staring in the first place. He quickly looked up. Eric stopped in the doorway and turned around.

"Good luck with the sketching," he said. "I'm here… most of the time. So maybe we'll meet again."

"I'm looking forward to that," Godric said, before he'd thought it through. Then he wanted to kick himself. He'd only spoken to Eric for one minute, at most. He knew literally nothing about him. So why did he look forward to meet him again? And more importantly, why did he say it out loud?

But Eric just smiled. And he couldn't help smiling back.

Then the dancer disappeared out the door, and Godric stared at the empty spot until Lafayette loudly cleared his throat. He quickly turned around.

"At least you seem to like what you've seen here so far." The choreographer looked slyly at him, but thankfully he was saved from further remarks as the door once again was opened, and a group of tights-clad women -Isabel included- entered. Lafayette immediately turned his attention to them.

"Girls," he said and smiled broadly. "Here and with properly tied shoes, I hope?" A mutual 'yes' was heard from the group. Some of the girls sent Godric curious glances, but he was too caught up in his own thoughts to even notice. He made his way over to one of the walls that wasn't covered with mirrors and sat down, crossing his legs and placing his sketchbook over his knees.

"This is Godric," Lafayette explained and gestured his way. "He's an artist, and you can all feel honored to be part in one of his upcoming projects. So make sure to be absolutely dazzling today. But, enough talking, let's get to dancing."

"So, what do you think?" Isabel asked eagerly when they over three hours later –this being a short session, as she'd pointed out- sat on the steps leading up to the Lincoln complex.

"What?" Godric blinked in confusion. He'd been lost in thoughts again. But he didn't think of Eric. Not at all.

"What's with you?" Isabel sighed. "You're in a whole other place. I asked you what you thought."

"Oh, well, it was brilliant," Godric answered honestly. Isabel grinned.

"Do you really think so?"

"Do I ever lie to you?"

"No, but you don't seem like yourself at the moment," Isabel pointed out. "Or, you're your self… just ten times more gone in your own thoughts." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a water bottle which she took a deep gulp from. Godric chose to not to comment on her statement. Because honestly he didn't know what to say. And then it was better not to say anything at all.

They sat in silence and watched the people milling on the busy street before them, and the by-passers leaving and arriving at the theatre. Normally, he would've been sketching now. He'd always found the life on the streets fascinating, and rarely sat still without his sketchbook. But he'd filled almost an entire pad during Isabel's training, and frankly, his hand was cramping slightly. Thinking of dancing instantly brought his thoughts to Eric, despite his promise to not think about him. He wondered if Eric –even though he seemed quite shy- would let him draw him. Maybe when he was dancing. That, if anything, would be worth drawing. Especially if he wore those tights- No, what? Godric shook his head to rid it of that thought. What was wrong with him today? He tried to remind himself of how large the theatre was, and that they had hundreds of employees. It was therefore not very likely that he would even meet Eric again…

"No, now I'm tired of this," Isabel suddenly stated. "Has something happened? Why are you doing random headshakes?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking about someon- something," Godric said and bit his tongue. Now, Isabel was irreversibly interested.

"Someone?"

"Something," Godric corrected her.

"No, you said someone," Isabel insisted triumphantly. "Who is it? Have you met someone at the theatre? Was it one of the girls in my group?"

"Calm down now," Godric sighed. Now he would never hear the end of this. He might as well capitulate at once. "It was just someone I met briefly before your session. One of the male ballet dancers."

"Ohhh." Isabel's eyes lit up and she smirked delightfully. "You've found yourself a sexy little dancer? Well, there are loads of them around here. You just give me the name, and I'll fix you up on a date."

"Would you give it a rest," Godric said and ran a hand through his hair. "Just because I haven't had a girlfriend in-"

"Two years," Isabel coughed.

He glared at her, and continued, "A while- doesn't mean I'm gay."

"No, you're right," she admitted. "It just makes you kind of sad." She giggled and silenced his attempted protest by whisking her hands. "But to get back to your dancer, what's his name?" Godric knew when to admit defeat.

"Eric," he answered and Isabel's face instantly fell into a thoughtful frown.

"Eric… Eric… No, doesn't ring a bell. What did he look like?"

"Tall, blond… Slender. Blue eyes." Godric shrugged, doing everything to appear unfazed. Isabel knit her eyebrows together.

"There's a guy called Rick," she muttered thoughtfully. "Are you sure his name wasn't Rick?"

"I'm quite sure," he chuckled. Isabel finally fell silent, as she continued to ponder. He gratefully accepted the pause, and turned his eyes toward the theatre. The last rays of sunshine were fading in the horizon, and the building cast shadows over them. He was looking at the entrance when the door opened, and a familiar person appeared on the staircase. Godric stared dumbly for a moment, before poking Isabel in the side.

"That's him," he said quietly and nodded towards Eric, who was now descending the steps. He regretted his decision the second the words left his mouth and awaited a very loud reaction from Isabel. But when he looked at her, he noticed to his surprise that she merely stared wide-eyed at the blond dancer. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, and seemed to have lost her ability to speak.

"Is that… the guy you talked to?" she finally said.

"Yes," Godric replied, bemused by her strange reaction.

"He, the blonde one over there," she pointed, and he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled it down.

"Yes, and stop pointing. What's with you?"

Now, Isabel was staring at him instead, as she slowly shook her head.

"You're not for real!" she exclaimed after a moment of silence. "Don't you know who that is?"

"What? No, or- is he someone special?"

Isabel grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him sternly in the eye. "That, is Eric Northman. One of the world's most coveted ballet dancers, and the youngest to ever sign a contract with the Bolshoi Ballet. But now he's here to star in the new production of Romeo and Juliet. For crying out loud, the New York Times had a huge article about him just yesterday! How can you possibly miss that?"

"You didn't know who he was when I said his name," Godric pointed out, feeling a bit stupid. He couldn't quite grasp this…

"Yes but, I-I-" Isabel stuttered. "I didn't make the connection. I mean, that you met the Eric." She released his shoulders and dropped her arms to her sides, looking completely at loss. Godric turned his attention to Eric.

The dancer was walking slowly over the avenue, and as he let his eyes trail in the same direction, Godric discovered that a large, bearded man with dark hair was coming to meet him. Or, large was a understatement. He was a giant. A giant clad in a suit and carrying a briefcase. He appeared to be in his mid thirties…

The giant and Eric met, and Godric blinked in confusion when the dark-haired man wrapped his arms around him in an embrace. Eric hugged him back. When they stood that close, it became prominent just how large the older man was, because Eric looked small in comparison. That the giant had arms resembling tree trunks probably added to that. Godric suddenly became worried that he would break Eric in half, and it was a relief when he finally released him. But that feeling quickly vanished when the man instead leaned down and kissed Eric.

"That's his boyfriend," Isabel suddenly spoke up. "I think his name is Alcide Herveaux."

"Well, Isabel," Godric sighed. "You might think it's weird that I didn't know who Eric was. But let me tell you, that to the rest of humanity, it's stranger that you know his boyfriend's name."

"It's normal to know that stuff about celebrities," Isabel said and shrugged indifferently. She continued to look curiously at the couple, as they now began walking towards the street. Alcide wrapped an arm around Eric's slim waist, and Godric looked away. Why did it feel so hard to see this? Isabel however, studied them unabashedly until they disappeared into a waiting cab. Then she turned to Godric.

"Now you have to tell me everything," she demanded. "From the beginning!"

AN. You might be confused now, but we're just getting started. It will take a few chapters to set the story, but then most questions will hopefully have been answered. Do leave a review, if you feel like it :)