So, I had so many little snippets of this story just floating around in my mind, and I finally decided I should do something with them! This is my first story in a long while, and it has been even longer since I have done a fanfiction, so I apologize in advance for anything lacking in my writing ability or plot! This is more of an introduction chapter, something to introduce you to my OC and set the tone. If any clarification is needed for the terminology used, I can explain it in the next chapter or fire off a PM. Enjoy!
I do not own anything belonging to the Thor or Marvel universe.
"Préparation! Sept, huit et jeté! Très bien mes filles. Prochaine groupe, s'il vous plait. Attention à votre épaulement, Anna…"
Margot stood at the barre, warming up her feet as she watched her fellow dancers leap and throw themselves across the floor gracefully, arms held delicately aloft. The exercise was so familiar to them all, drilled into their minds by hours of arduous practice, that they could do it in their sleep. But of course, this didn't stop the constant tweaking, the constant adjusting and critiquing and self examination in their endless quest for perfection. A perfection that, though dearly coveted, was impossible to attain. Margot herself had spent inordinate amounts of time repeating the same steps over and over, attempting to perfect everything from the line of her leg to the very position of each finger — anything to perfect the illusion of grace and elegance. She was neurotic about it to a fault, a flawless example of discipline and self-control.
And Margot wouldn't have it any other way, thank you very much.
Margot had been a soloist with a prominent ballet company in New York for a year now. The day she had been promoted from the corps de ballet had been a dream; all the hard work and hell she had put her body and mind through had paid off. She wasn't yet a principal dancer, but it was an honour she hoped to be given someday. In the end, she was simply happy to be dancing. Ballet was her life, an almost dangerous obsession. It had been since she was given her first pair of pointe shoes, and realized she could make a living out of her passion. This mattered little to her parents who, despite her accomplishments in the ballet world, remained disappointed that she hadn't pursued a more academic career. Something more practical, they had called it. Margot had scoffed at their words, unable to comprehend their need for the mundane.
She was pulled from her reverie by the brusque clapping of Mme. Dumas, their dance master, calling the company to attention. "Everyone, take five minutes to stretch and rehydrate. My girls in the corps, you are to head to the main studio to practice the coda. Little Swans, you are in here with me. Allez-y!"
Margot pulled her cardigan on, settling herself on the floor and stretching out absentmindedly. Ah, Swan Lake. The ballet she had been dying to perform since she was a child prancing around in her first tutu. The theme had been her lullaby for many a year, and the tragic story had filled her dreams for just as long. Tragedy. It was a thing Margot often found herself drawn to for reasons she could never explain, like a fly to sickly sweet fruit. She was morbidly fascinated with tragic stories, and even more so with tragically flawed characters. Perhaps it all seemed so much more realistic to her.
Or perhaps, it was simply Fate's way of preparing her for what was to come.