an:
So I decided to write yet
another fic that has fairy tale premises.
This is swan lake!Austria/Prussia/Hungary. More about it at the end.


Elizaveta made her way through the winding forest, her eyes darting back and forth like those of an experienced hunter. A new crossbow was loaded, but pointed downwards towards the ground. Each step she took was measured and silent - her aptitude was prevalent simply by how she moved.
It was her last day of freedom, something that she loathed to even think about. Today was her birthday (though it sure didn't feel like it was her birthday) - she was twenty-one years old as of now, which meant that she had to marry as soon as possible. Her parents decided that tomorrow was as good a day as any.

Ugh. Elizaveta pushed a branch out of the way. She wasn't looking forward to this whole "ball" thing; she'd always been more interested in decidedly more masculine things than other girls typically were. As a result, she disliked dancing (though she supposed she was a good dancer). She scowled irritably, remembered not to make noise, then continued on her way.
She'd seen a flock of swans pass overhead the castle, so she had assumed that today would be good hunting in the forest. Unfortunately, no bodies of water were to be found, even in places where she could have sworn had been before. It was approaching dusk - the last few hours of freedom - and she still hadn't gotten one kill. How was she supposed to break in her new crossbow if nothing worth killing was in the vicinity...?

Ah, the new crossbow. The one present she got that she actually fancied (others had been gowns, jewelry, and other such nonsense) - it was expertly made and pleasant to the eye simultaneously. Her father had sneaked it to her, not letting her mother catch that she had it. He had said that, although she would be expected to act like a woman around her future husband, she could act like herself whenever she felt the need to. She smiled and gripped it tighter, already attached to it.

Thinking back on it, it was hard to believe that today had been one day. This morning she'd been pulled out of bed and into the town's streets, waiting for her potential suitors to arrive. In the meantime, townspeople had flocked around their young princess, congratulating her on another year and wishing her many more. There had been toasts and dancing in the street - everyone had tried to get Elizaveta to dance but she had shaken her head every time someone asked. Of course, when the nobles had arrived in their silver covered carriages, she had to dance (it was kinda expected) but she did that as begrudgingly as possible. Once every potential husband had swirled around with her a few times and stepped on her toes (it seemed as though they learned to dance a week ago - all they did were bland "ballroom style" dances - not the more elegant pointe dances that her kingdom normally prefered), she had broken away from the crowd, ditched her birthday gown in favour of trousers and a blouse, and made her way to the forest. It was much quieter, but she'd been out for hours and hadn't any luck with the game in the area.

She sighed and sat down, taking off her boots. Elizaveta's feet were cut and bruised - typical for a pointe dancer - but they didn't hurt too often. For whatever reason, the surrounding area was nerve-wrackingly uncomfortable - the mist was starting to creep around the trees and calls of animals were present; a good sign, yes, but she this told her that she needed a quick rest.
After rubbing her calloused feet, she put her boots back on and continued on her wa-

Wait. Mist.
Surely a body of water was around then, right? The hunter crept through the trees, being as silent as she was able, and soon caught a faint shimmer in the corner of her eye. The last rays of sunlight tickled the otherwise placid surface of a gorgeous lake, the swans living on it were still.

Interesting, just a few ancestors away from being the proverbial sitting duck. Elizaveta watched silently, scoping out her potential kills. These swans, she saw, were unlike any other - the feathers on them were too white and the center swan was wearing a crown.
Not something you saw every day, Elizaveta supposed, but she couldn't act surprised about it now. She had just found her new trophies, hadn't she? She smirked and cocked her weapon, trying to aim for the crowned swan in the center. It didn't occur to Elizaveta how odd it was to see many swans on one lake, how odd it was to see different species of swan in one area (according to her expert eyes, the one with the crown was a mute swan), how odd that as night passed over the lake the feathers of the swan began to melt off...

Just as she had a clear shot, a brilliant burst of light encompassed the entire lake, nearly blinding the onlooking hunter. She shut her eyes and turned away, seeing bright starbursts of orange behind her eyes from the light.
When she opened them, all the swans had disappeared, momentarily making Elizaveta upset, but when she saw what had replaced them, she nearly yelped.

Standing gracefully in the center of the lake was a beautiful man, his chestnut hair falling around his face messily. Feathers clung to his regal clothing, the crown balanced on his head precariously. His gaze fell to Elizaveta's direction, but he did nothing else to acknowledge that he knew of her existence.

As if walking on the water, the swan-man slid one leg in front of the other purposefully, his arms outstretched. When he placed his feet, they pointed to the sides like those of a dancer. As he stepped out of the water (his trousers and shoes not appearing damp in the slightest), he slowly rolled onto his toes (he was dancing pointe, Elizaveta realized, how... odd for a man) and brought his hands over his head, preparing to dance.
Elizaveta watched, her eyes following the man. He was much better than she was - his movements were deliberate and slow, following along perfectly with unheard music. He had a great center of balance, shown when he gently lifted one leg up, leaned forward (looking shockingly like a mourning bird), then stood up straight again and began a series of pirouettes, spinning slowly.

He was absolutely mesmerizing, this man. Elizaveta didn't notice how close he was getting to her until he bowed, arm outstretched towards her. While she had been watching, she supposed, she must have walked out to follow his movements better.
The man didn't move from his position, apparently waiting for something. She clucked her tongue and surveyed the lake quickly. It became apparent that he was not the only swan-person here, many people were scattered around the lake, whispering in hushed tones.

Huh. Then why hadn't this aloof man joined a group of friends? Elizaveta crept forward and tapped the man's shoulder.
He snapped up out of his position and addressed her with a nod, standing with perfect posture. She was about to ask him about this place or where he learned to dance like that, but a voice came from behind her.

"He won't answer you, y'know."

She whirled around a bit too quickly and came face to face with a white haired man, not nearly as elegant-looking as the one with a crown, but he still carried a certain air about him, one similar to the man with the chocolate-coloured hair. Nonetheless, that was pretty rude no matter who you were, something Elizaveta wanted to clearly convey.

"Excuse me?" She said, her eyes narrowing. She looked back towards the still-poised man, then turned to the new one. "And just who are you?"

With an amused smirk, the albino started walking circles around the two. Elizaveta noted how the original man seethed at the intruder - the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. Both princess and dancer stared at the white haired man, the latter with a considerably higher dose of animosity.
It took a long time for him to respond, but it wasn't what Elizaveta had been expecting. "I think I should be asking you that, don't you?" He ventured, his crimson eyes narrowing mischievously. "After all, you are the new one around here, isn't she, Specs?"

Elizaveta looked to the chestnut haired man to see if he responded, which he did. He head lifted up ever so slightly, his gaze fierce. This seemed to be funny to the albino, who tapped "Specs'" nose childishly. He then turned in the likeness of Specs - elegantly, with some flair - and faced Elizaveta, who didn't seem keen to tell him who she was. He began to prod her (quite literally), his fingers digging into her sides. "Yo, don't you have ears? Answer me!"

The princess snorted and turned her nose up, making it hard for them to keep eye contact. "I believe I asked first, didn't I? I'll tell you once you tell me," Elizaveta hissed, not attempting to hide her disdain. There were some sorts of people that just rubbed her the wrong way, and this guy was one of them.

He looked almost sad, false heartbreak oozing off his being. "Aw, if you insist," he whined, his fake tone prevalent. "My name's Gilbert, and this over here's Roderich," Gilbert said, motioning towards the svelte figure to his side. Roderich said nothing, but gave a brief bow. His facial expression wasn't as level as before - his eyebrows knit inward and his mouth was turned into a delicate frown; Elizaveta could gather that these two weren't on such good terms with each other. This led her to wonder, though: why had Gilbert spoken for him and why hadn't Roderich spoken up or explained to her why he was previously a swan? He seemed the type to apologize profusely for stepping on someone's toe (not that Elizaveta thought such an experienced dancer would ever do that); why wouldn't he explain himself if she had obviously seen him as a swan before?

Elizaveta looked over both of the men, curious about them (well, perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. It's not every day where you see a swan transform into a man). She supposed her curiosities would be procrastinated for a little bit longer, just after she introduced herself. She cleared her throat importantly, standing up a little straighter. "Alright then, a promise is a promise," she said, brushing aside a strand of hair. "My name is Elizaveta. I'm... from around here. I was hunting when I found you guys at this lake," she said hesitantly, not wanting to disclose her social class - if these two were untrustworthy, they might take advantage of her being a princess. She took her father's age old advice ("Stiff upper lip, hold your head high, and don't be afraid to get snappy!"), then fixated a glare onto both of them that she must have inherited from her mother. "Now, do you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?" Elizaveta quipped, her question carrying a significant amount of weight. Gilbert's breath hitched.

"A-ah, well..." Gilbert stuttered, looking at Roderich for support, but then he seemed to remember something and looked back at Elizaveta. "Er... a girl likes hunting?" He finished lamely, obviously looking for a change of topic.
Elizaveta was not amused.

"How about you try answering the question?" Elizaveta huffed, tapping her foot impatiently. If he didn't spit something out quickly then that tree branch would probably find a new home on his face. Gilbert sensed this mood and began to nervously splutter something.

"Er... uh... I would say talk to Roderich, but he can't talk," Gilbert managed to express, laughing nervously when her face clearly begged the question why. "Aha, I was just gonna say! Hold your horses, lady, let me get my thoughts together and then I'll tell you all about this," he said, pressing his fingers to his temples. Something told Elizaveta that the longer this guy had to think about what he wa3s going to say, the more he would lie about the truth. She cocked her weapon and aimed it at him, daring him to keep silent. Gilbert gave a small hiccup. "Okay Pidge, quit it! I'm normally a peaceful guy," Roderich fixated him with a glare, "but I can be driven to violence!" Gilbert wagged a finger, warning her in a not-too-intimidating manner.
Elizaveta glared.

Gilbert gave her a noncommittal shrug in response. "Fine, Pidge, but don't you dare call me crazy.

"Okay, so once upon a time, this guy, Roderich, was out flitting in a field or some shit, I don't know. About seventy-five years ago, he was heir to the throne of a nearby kingdom. Can't be bothered to learn the name of it," Gilbert started, trying to measure Elizaveta's reaction. A scowl was planted on her face - she was clearly not buying this at all.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that this guy is over seventy-five years old?" She spat, he grip tightening on her crossbow. Gilbert, however, wasn't discouraged.

"Believe it or not, it's the truth. Anyway, back to him in the field.

"Roderich met some sorcerer guy who really didn't like his family. Er, in fact, the sorcerer hated all royal families. This meant that he decided to use his sorcerer powers to make it look like he was gone so his family wouldn't have any heirs, and he did that by relocating him to a lake and turning him into a swan by day, a man by night. You see, before you ask why he did that, spells have certain limitations that demand a way to reverse them, so he had to make it so it was the most unlikely way - him falling in consensual love with another human," he continued, aiming a look at Roderich. "Specs is a sort of cold-hearted ice prince who has never loved before, isn't he?" Gilbert pulled at his cheek, to Roderich's chagrin. "Aww, poor baby," he snickered, pulling at his hair. "The sorcerer believed that even Roderich might be able to fall in love if provoked, so he took away his voice. What breaks that spell is the breaking of the other spell - the swan one."

Elizaveta blinked, not sure whether to trust this Gilbert on all of this, but she supposed she couldn't argue with what she had seen earlier - Roderich had certainly turned from a swan into a human. She looked to him and, aside from his tousled hair and sour expression, didn't seem to be close to denying the claim. He did seem to hate Gilbert, however, which led Elizaveta to think - if they hated each other so much, then how come Gilbert knew of all this? And what of the other people milling about; were they cursed too? And why was everything broken with true love?

She shook her head, her matted hair swinging by her cheeks. "But what about you? Are you a swan person too?" She asked, her eyes narrowing once more. She found that the more she masked her uncertainty with aggression, the more people would bend to her whims. It seemed to be working impeccably well with Gilbert, who had stolen a glance to Roderich.

Oh, Roderich. He looked as though he would soon punch Gilbert - his expression seemed to be a warning to not do something. Gilbert didn't seem fazed, and instead plowed right through. "Yup, I'm a swan-guy too, 'cos I'm a dashing noble that some jerk sorcerer decided to envy," he said arrogantly, twirling his hair. "Er, everyone else here got turned like that, too," he tacked on to the end, looking at (the now fuming) Roderich again. Briefly, Elizaveta wondered why he was so upset, but figured that any time in Gilbert's presence was pretty unbearable. She could sympathize.

The object of their annoyance seemed to think of something pretty brilliant just at that moment. "Oh, sorry, I forgot a big part of the curse. So long as it exists, the sorcerer does, too. He uses this extra life to try and take down other nobles, one by one," Gilbert said, clapping his hands together.

Elizaveta tried to prevent her face from paling and cleared her throat, not wanting to make her identity known even moreso, now. Er, a change of subject would be nice, yes? "Why do you sound so happy about that?" Elizaveta retorted, her cheeks puffed out.

Gilbert looked like he needed a sudden change of subject, too. "Huh? No reason - you wouldn't understand, Simpleton," he said, sticking his tongue out like a kid. "Anyway, you seem to like dancing, right? Me and Specs over there can dance really well." Gilbert motioned to the taciturn man next to him. The albino seemed to be pleased, and Elizaveta knew why: he had found a better change of subject than the one he had before. She tried to deny that she wanted to see, but found herself nodding slightly.

"Then will you dance for me?" Elizaveta said, a tad testily. Keep on the offense, keep your weapon close - that's all she could do for now. Gilbert smirked.

"As you wish, Pidge."

Gilbert was a fast dancer, a direct contrast to that of Roderich. Additionally, he seemed incapable of staying on his toes for the amount of time Roderich could, and stuck to demi pointe instead. Elizaveta didn't mind - such was how men usually danced (Roderich was an odd exception). This being how they could dance, Gilbert took Roderich's hand gently, making the dark-haired man's face turn into one of shock. As quickly as it had changed, he got over it and assumed a dancing position.
Something seemed to course through both of them, and spurred them to dance. Whatever it was, it made it look as though they were moving to unheard music, both fitting the imaginary rhythm in a synchronized manner.

At first, Elizaveta thought that the differing dance styles would be too much - the two men were much too different, like sun and moon, fire and ice, yes and no, goodbye and hello - but they melded into a rather interesting pas de deux, the contrasting dancers looking strangely right with each other. Gilbert preferred to draw attention to himself, posing with sporadic hops onto his toes. Roderich was more gentle, keeping to himself and doing slow turns, seeming not to even notice Gilbert's presence. Roderich gave a fleeting look behind him, and deliberately seemed to float over to him. He then bent a leg and stared up at him, to which they began to actually dance together.

Elizaveta was enraptured - though it was obvious that the two still had a strained relationship. They refused to get really close to each other (well, Roderich was the hesitant party) and embraces would be fleeting.
She found herself disappointed for whatever reason (maybe it was because more passionate dances just looked better, or maybe it was because Roderich would look so much better if he were in a dress- what was she thinking?), but still found the dance itself beautiful.

Eventually the two parted and were back in front of Elizaveta - Gilbert was panting slighty, Roderich was placid as ever. The moon was starting to sink in the background, but still tossed shadows over the trees. Light from the lake reflected off of it and onto the two men, making them appear angelic.
Elizaveta had to admit that there was something... intoxicating about the two of them. Her breath caught in her throat as Roderich extended a hand towards her, and she realized that he was asking her to dance.

Oh, she wanted to, she wanted to so badly. But, she rationalized, her parents wouldn't be pleased if they found out she'd been dancing with a strange man in the forest. She didn't particularly care, but she figured that she may as well follow through on their wishes.
But wait, there was a way where she could dance with them, wasn't there?

She touched his arm, repressing a smirk when she spotted Roderich growing flustered. He was really sort of cute, in an overly effeminate sort of way. She briefly wondered if he baked as well, but decided not to think about that any longer. No need to demean him even further, even in her mind.
"I-I... I can't, not now. I am having a ball tomorrow night though, to decide who marries me," Elizaveta said, stroking his face with her fingers. "Maybe you could come?"

Roderich's happiness was palpable, his eyes shining. He nodded towards the princess, and then bowed to her. She turned to leave, but Roderich grabbed her hand, a question in his gaze. She thought that it would be hard to figure out, but something seemed to speak to her... not words, but...

Music. Through Roderich, she could hear a cacophony of notes, not seeming to follow any sort of order at all. It confused her, but she understood what he was asking. "I live in the castle, beyond this lake. There's a path that leads out of the forest and to my house - you can't miss it," Elizaveta found herself saying. Instantly, the notes aligned and Roderich's expression became neutral again. He backed away, right into Gilbert.

Someone looked annoyed.

"How come I don't get to go, Pidge? What's up with that?" Gilbert pouted, pushing Roderich out of the way. Elizaveta snorted.

"Something tells me you wouldn't behave yourself. Go off and play in a ditch," she said, then turned away from the two. By this point, the moon was gone. Any minute now, daytime would come and Roderich and Gilbert would become swans again, doomed until Roderich fell in love.
Elizaveta began tromping her way back home. That could be remedied quickly, no? She smirked and pushed aside branches, trying to find the path.


After she left the lake, the sun peeked above the horizon. In a bright flash of light, Roderich became shrouded in a cloak of magic, and then, in a puff of feathers, transformed into a beautiful swan. After looking around at his subjects, he paddled off into the water, without Gilbert.
The albino had vanished without a trace, leaving no evidence of his existence.

One by one, the noblemen and women of the lake transformed, mini explosions of light dotting all over the lake front. The swans then took to the lake as well, awaiting when they could walk as humans again. Silence then settled on the lake like a blanket, enveloping the swans with a hush.

Morning had arrived.


an:

And that's chapter one! There are a few problems that I've run across with this already, most of it stemming from my limited knowledge of ballet and struggle to put it all in layman's terms. ;;
I took dance for two years, but that's not nearly as advanced as the characters in this story are. I've done research and watched countless ballet performances (I've even watched Princess Tutu ;;) to get a feel for this all. Originally, I was going to center this all around music (as I've played many of Tchaikovsky's pieces and other such prestigious pieces of musical literature), but music became hard for me to describe in words.

If you have any dance experience at all, I'd love to hear what you have to say about anything. I've skimped out on description of dances because I'm afraid of describing something poorly. Any stories or advice that you might share with me are appreciated.

Constructive critcism is, as always, loved.

If you want to see something happen in the story, please let me know! It won't be in there guaranteed (as most of the plot is already in my head already), but I'd like to try and make this have more events that go on than what I already have.

Thank you so much for reading! I truly appreciate it.

-Sweet

mini glossary in layman's terms:
pointe - dancing 'on your toes' - pointe toe shoes make this possible (those are ballet slippers with wood in the toe portions that help keep the dancer on their toes)
pas de deux - a dance with two people
pirouette - a 'ballet twirl.' if you don't know what this looks like, you should really look up videos!