Tchaikovsky demanded Amélie's attention as she took the stage, the orchestra swelling behind her grand entrance. Lace and tulle fanned out from her hips, and her dark hair, bound in a tight bun, was crowned with a glittering diadem that caught the rays of brightness from the spotlights above. This was her moment- her element, her world of song and dance and joyous movement, of unceasing melodies and graceful pirouettes, of celebrating life through every stanza. Amélie never wanted anything else.

Of course, this was far from her first performance. Amélie Guillard's repertoire of leading roles and flawless technical performances had already spread throughout the Parisian ballet world. Quite a crowd had attended tonight's show; the theater was packed. The Théâtre du Châtelet was almost as lavish as the actors' costumes, its golden walls and meticulous murals offering an almost overwhelming visual spectacle when paired with the lush and magnificent ballet. And Amélie was the center of it all.

As she focused on the music, her muscles flexed and guided her through the difficult routine. Ballet had been her calling since she was a child; her mother had demanded that Amélie pick some type of classical training, be it in piano, violin, or dance. Amélie was too impatient for the arduous piano lessons- she could never sit still long enough, always fidgeting or daydreaming about adventures beyond their family's penthouse suite. No, piano didn't last long at all, and she was forced into ballet by her irritated parents. Thankfully, she excelled.

And so, tonight, she twirled about the stage, sharing her joy and her passion with the world through her precise movements and entrancing grace. As she reached the end of the dance, her partner caught her about the waist and lifted her into the air, throwing her above his head as she spun before descending once more into his waiting arms. They danced one last bout together before the music began to swell for the last time, and finally, it ceased- only to be replaced by the thunderous applause.

After the end of the performance, Amélie ducked backstage, weaving through throngs of performers attempting to remove their now-cumbersome tutus and frills. This was her true home- the hustle and bustle of stage productions made her feel truly alive like nothing else ever could, and she couldn't help the small smile that broke her typical placid expression. She tucked herself against a wall as stagehands labored to drag a large set piece backstage, and took a moment just to watch the chaotic life all around her.

She was far from old, but many of the younger dancers were barely adults, many fresh out of dance academies from across Europe. They all tended to skirt away from the rather quiet, aristocratic prima ballerina who danced like it was her reason to exist, although they certainly harbored no ill feelings, other than twinges of jealousy. Amélie's twenty-sixth birthday was approaching soon, and prickles of anxiety had begun to flit across her mind concerning the remaining length of her professional career, but she brushed them aside. She would dance for as long as she could, and that was that.

A voice trilled from amongst the crowded backstage hallways.

"Amélie? Amélie, where are you, ma chérie?"

A young, blonde slip of a girl pushed her way towards Amélie, fighting against the tide of stagehands and ballerinas. The prima ballerina straightened and reached out into the crowd, snagging the blonde girl by the arm and pulling her quickly to her side.

"Hello, Simone," she said, offering a small, sincere smile. "You performed beautifully today, ma crevette. It is always a joy to share the stage with you."

Simone Lacroix beamed, a blush overtaking her face.

"Merci, Amélie. Although, I haven't seen you so happy on stage since you played Odette- what was it-" she paused, chewing her lip, "oh, mon Dieu, that was almost three years ago! I didn't think it had been so long!

Amélie hummed in agreement. "It certainly doesn't seem like it. I still remember Madame Bernard ranting about your tutu because you-"

Simone's laughter interrupted her. "-because I fell over in the dressing room and managed to spill my face powder literally everywhere."

The two women giggled at the memory, glittering in their costumes and catching the light as they spoke.

Simone tilted her head, eyes bright. "Say, ma chérie, why don't we clean up, get changed, and grab dinner together? You are my favorite coworker, and I think we should celebrate our opening night's success."

Her dark-haired friend hesitated, biting her lip in thought. Amélie was always quiet- so quiet that many of the other girls didn't bother trying to talk with her much anymore.

After a moment, she shook her head.

"Ah, ma crevette, I would love to, but I need to soak my feet and rest. That last routine is exhausting," she sighed, a lingering trace of guilt in her voice. The younger girl waved off her concerns.

"It is understandable, Amélie. But-"

Amelie raised an eyebrow.

"But, how about on Tuesday night instead? Please? I really would like to catch up for a while. And, my brother will be in Paris for the week! I think the two of you would get along splendidly." Simone looked imploringly up at her taller friend, waiting for a response.

Amélie sighed inwardly. Her parents had been enough to deal with when she was younger- always trying to pair her with the sons of France's most accomplished families. Now, her dearest work friend was attempting to throw her brother at her, too. She truly wanted to turn down any social outing; curling up in her flat, tea in one hand and a book in the other, sounded ideal. With such intensive and demanding work, her days off were precious. Still, she did acknowledge that she truly valued Simone's company at the theater; she didn't want to scare her only true friend off with a perceived air of disinterest.

After a few more moments of deliberation, she offered a weak smile.

"Very well, ma crevette. Just let me know where you'd like to go, and I'll be there."

Simone's smile once again dominated her open, friendly face. "Oh, truly? I'm so glad, Amélie! I'll tell my brother to be on his best behaviour, and we'll all have a wonderful time."

With that, the smaller ballerina turned and left Amélie to her thoughts.

She sighed to herself. It was just one dinner- how much could happen during a single night out?