All right, well I was seized by uncontrollable nostalgia recently and got into the Swan Lake stories again. I've been reading up on a lot of them, but I've also created one of my own. This is the story of what REALLY happened at Swan Lake. Enjoy, and comments are welcome. This is only the introduction, and the story really begins next chapter. But what's here is very important, so read closely! :)

"Grandmére?" The door squeaked open to the upper apartment where Odile was never supposed to go unless Grandmére asked. Odette fluttered behind her, wringing her hands.

"Odile, we really shouldn't be up here! Mom said not to come to Grandmére, she's too old!" she whispered, gripping the back of her sister's shirt to keep her back.

"Odette, get a grip! I need to know!" Odile hissed, prying Odette's hand from her collar. She pushed the door open a little further and poked her head in. Her grandmother's apartment was cluttered with dozens of items that she had collected through her thrice-too-long life. Gold was abundant, for Grandmére had married very well. She had funds to spare, and it was due to this and their mother's inheritance that Odile and Odette were able to study ballet with such a renowned instructor. "Grandmére?" she asked again.

Her eyes scanned the room. Tilting her head, she was able to see past her grandmother's tapestries and figurines to the single bed in the room that was bathed in light by the large window beside it. Her grandmother lay in it, still, but then she moved to peer out of weary eyes to the door. "Who's there?" she asked in a voice weak and quiet with age.

"It is Odile, Grandmére, and Odette, come to visit," Odile replied.

"Odile!" Odette whined. Odile seized her hand and pulled her through the door with her.

"This is important," she insisted. Bells nearby the door rang as Odette's blonde head bumped them.

"Careful of those!" Grandmére exclaimed sharply. "Now, come over here, children."

Stepping lightly, Odile and her sister walked over to where their grandmother laid in bed, gazing at them out of near blind eyes. She still called them children, even though the girls were now sixteen years of age. Odette didn't like it, but Odile didn't mind at all. It made her feel still connected to her grandmother, even though she was rarely allowed to come up here. There was something her mother didn't like about her own mother. Olivia Geronte knew something that her daughters didn't, and something that she refused to tell them. Odile was tired of it. It was time she found out.

She'd begun to really think on it when they'd discovered that they would be performing Swan Lake for their next recital. It was so completely attached to their heritage that Odile began to wonder. She and her sister, after all, had been named after the two swan maidens in the ballet. But Odile struggled with the knowledge that her namesake had been evil. She felt in her heart that there was more to the story, something that both her mother and grandmother knew and were unwilling to share with her. Odette, of course, struggled with nothing but the fact that her namesake presumably committed suicide. She tended to consider herself an improvement of the first.

For it was their secret that Swan Lake was no simple story. It had truly happened, but Odile was sure that the story had been lost in translation. For one thing, the magic told in the story was real, but not in the way the story said. Odile and her sister had inherited the magic and it was part of their lives on a daily basis. They were committed to changing into birds once a day for at least an hour, but it was not controlled by the moon. Nor was it by the cruel spell of a magician. It was simply who they were. It was in their blood. And, as their bird forms were inherited from their mother, they were both swans. Grandmére was a swan, too. Odile, however, was a black swan. When she'd asked her mother why, she'd received a terribly vague answer that only made her more curious. And that was why she was standing here, beside her grandmother's bed. She knew that Grandmére had the answeres, and she knew that was why her mother tried to keep her from coming up here.

"What is it that you've come to see you poor lonely grandmére for?" the old woman croaked. Odette began to speak, but Odile stepped on her foot to keep her quiet.

"Tell us who you are, Grandmére," Odile asked quietly. "I need to know. Tell me about Swan Lake."

The old woman's eyes widened and she began to breathe heavily. Odile stepped back, worried. What had she done? Was the story really that terrible? "Grandmére," she whispered, reaching out a pale hand.

"What? Who are you?" Grandmére cried, sitting up a little farther. Odile began to answer, then thought better of it. She changed her response.

"I…I am your daughter, Olivia. Mother, I want to know about Swan Lake."

Odette gasped. "Odile, how dare you? What are you thinking?"

"Shh!" Odile said, holding up a hand to her sister.

"Oh, yes child, of course. Let me tell you about your dear aunts and our life before that Evaine came upon us. It was such a happy time! My, we were all so happy, your aunts and I," Grandmére said, seeming to light up. "You had nine aunts, you know. No uncles, not by my blood. I was the youngest, the baby of the family. We started with Odette and Odile, the twins. Odette was so pretty - that I remember. And Odile was even more so, if possible. She was so kind, to all of us; it was such a shame it had to happen to her. Then came Olesya, our little optimist. And then Océane, she was the wisest of us all. Orella and Obelia were next in line, and then came the brave Olympienne. Octavie, Odessa, Ophélie, and then me. Orianne, the little girl, only six when we lost the twins. But oh, we were happy. We were all Avia, of course, the daughters of Count von Rothbart and his wife. He was such a kind father, but our mother died before I could walk. I couldn't miss her, for I'd never known her. My dears, my dears…"

The old woman stopped. She smiled hazily the two girls, seeing only one, Odile, or rather Olivia.

"Mother. Tell me what happened to the twins. To Aunt Odette and Aunt Odile. I want to know," Odile begged. She brushed some silvery hair off the old woman's forehead.

"Odile, I think we should leave. She's tired," Odette said gently.

"No. I need to know this, Odette. I can't go on thinking that the way it's told today is true. It's not, I can feel it," Odile persisted. She turned back to her grandmother.

"Go on, Mother," Odile said. The old woman smiled and gazed at the ceiling.

"All right. I will tell you. But you must never tell another soul. It is better the truth is not known, Olivia. Now listen closely…"