Two: it's set in Soviet Russia and I do have Stalin as a minor character. I'm not supporting Communism or any of the horrible things Stalin did to his people, so don't freak out. Stalin was just well known for bringing foreign diplomats to see performances of Swan Lake.
Three: yes, it's Swan Lake. For any of you who don't know anything about the story, basically there's a girl (Odette) in love with a prince (Seigfried), then the villain turns her into a swan and tries to get the prince to marry his daughter (Odile) who looks exactly like Odette (hence the black swan. Black is Odile and white is Odette). Odette and Odile are traditionally played by the same dancer. Swan Lake is also considered a ballet that demonstrates life in Russia, particularly Soviet Russia.
Four: I really don't like using the headcannon human names for the countries in Hetalia, but I felt that the situation required it, so I used Ivan Bravinsky instead of Russia... *sigh*
Anyhow, here's the story. It's not great, but it's not terrible. I've done ballet for the past thirteen years, so professionals really impress me. In case you aren't aware, ballet takes a tremendous amount of strength and endurance so that you can have that kind of control and poise. The pains of beauty, basically. Also, if you don't bleed in, sweat in, and cry on or because of your pointe shoes, you're not doing it right! And without further ado, here's the story! Catch you guys later, da? (^J^)
- Turtle-chan
This is my favorite picture of Russia that I've found on the internet. I wish I knew who did it, because it's beautiful! His expression~! (>//////<)
“Un, deux, trois,
quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit,” you count to yourself as you pull yourself
as close to the ground as possible.
There is a slight pulling of the muscles of your inner thigh, but as you
continue to breathe you feel the muscles stretching and relaxing. You sit up straight and lean forward, in
between your legs, trying to see if you can press your stomach to the ground
without letting your legs move. You’re
almost there and the stretch feels amazing.
You get
to your feet and use your ankles to go onto your toes. You feel your pointe shoes bending with the motion of your feet and then you’re
up. You look in the mirror and see the
perfect line your legs and feet are making and you smile just a little bit to
yourself. You stand in front of the
mirror and watch your feet, correcting little mistakes, as you warm up with
some relevés.
“Hey,
(y/n),” a voice says from the corner of the room behind you. You turn your head and look over without
coming off pointe to see your friend
and fellow dancer standing in the doorway.
“Oh,
hey, Karina,” you respond with a smile.
Karina is one of the few dancers you could actually get along with. She is beautiful, with her gorgeous platinum
blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and porcelain white skin, but she’s not
stuck up about it like so many of the other girls. She has a sweet, heart-shaped, childish face
with big eyes and long lashes. She’s a
few years older than you, but she’s like a little sister.
“Mistress
wants you to come see her. She says
there is someone here who wants to see you,” Karina tells you, looking up at
you innocently.
“Alright. I’m coming,” you respond, gracefully coming
down from your toes. You walk with your
weight on the balls of your feet because the hard shoes make it difficult to
walk normally. Karina walks down the
hall with you, leading you to Mistress.
You walk arm in arm. “So, who am
I supposed to be meeting? It’s not
another creepy old guy, is it?”
“No, I
don’t think so,” Karina giggles. “You
need to be on your best behavior, though.
He’s very important.”
“Oh, so
Mistress’s latest lover, then?” you tease, watching Karina’s cheeks turn a
bright pink.
“(y/n)!”
she exclaims. “That’s terrible!”
“But
it’s not unfounded,” you respond, grinning at her.
She
shakes her head and stops walking in front of a door leading to an unused
dressing room. “I’m serious, (y/n). No funny business. Just behave.
Smile, look pretty, and don’t say anything embarrassing, okay?” she
says, trying to put on a serious face.
“Alright,
alright. I get it. Be a doll,” you respond, smirking.
“Well,
I guess that’s the best I can get out of you,” she sighs. “Okay, go on in.”
You
wave at her and knock on the door as she walks away with a look of concern on
her face. “Come in,” you hear the
Mistress say from the other side of the door.
You
slowly open the door and look inside.
The room is covered with props and costumes left unused for quite some
time, but someone has at least made the effort of dusting. There are a few lamps casting a soft yellow
glow around the room. You see three
figures inside: the tall, thin shape of the Mistress, a man of about average
height with a broad build wearing a military uniform, and a huge, towering man
in a long coat.
“Ah,
(y/n)! You’re here! Good,” the Mistress says a little too
cheerfully as she beckons you over. “We
have a very important guest here tonight.”
You
walk over and stand near the Mistress.
You can make out the features of the men a bit better now and when you
do, you have to struggle to maintain your composure. The shorter of the two men has a heavily
pockmarked face and thick eyebrows. He
appears to be smiling underneath his gargantuan mustache. “Hello, Comrade. I am Joseph Stalin,” he says. “You are to play the role of Odette tonight,
yes?”
“Yes,
sir. I am (y/n) (l/n). It is an honor to meet you,” you tell him,
giving a small curtsey and averting your eyes.
“Ah,
that is good. I so enjoy Swan Lake. It is very lovely,” he says, chuckling a bit.
“I hope
the performance will be to your liking, sir,” you murmur.
“Yes,
yes. My comrade here hopes so as
well. He is so picky about his ballet,”
Stalin tells you good-naturedly. “Well,
go on. Introduce yourself.”
Stalin
gives his friend a slap on the back and he glances over at you. You’re instantly entranced by his strange,
violet eyes. “Hello. I am Ivan Bravinsky. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a
quiet but deep voice. His mouth is
largely obscured by his thick white scarf, but his eyes seem to be smiling.
“It’s a
pleasure to meet you as well,” you tell him, forcing yourself to look away from
him. You feel a blush spread over your
cheeks.
“Well,
I believe that (y/n) needs to join the other dancers backstage. The performance will begin soon,” the
Mistress says, starting to send you to the door.
“Good
luck,” Stalin tells you. “Do Mother
Russia proud!”
“Thank
you, sir. I hope you will enjoy our
humble performance,” you respond, giving Ivan a final glance before you leave
the room. He seems to have a strange
expression on his face, sort of like amusement but not quite, but it’s hard to
tell in the semi-darkness and your mind has already moved on by the time you
close the door. It’s go time.
You
glance around to make sure no one is around before you start to run. You just manage to make it to the wings
before anyone notices your absence. Or
so you think.
“Cutting
it a little close, aren’t we?” you hear a male voice ask. You grimace and flinch a little.
“Oh,
you’re too harsh with her, brother. She
wouldn’t consider it close until she missed the first act,” a female voice
giggles unpleasantly.
You
compose yourself and turn around to see Sergei and Nastya McCarthyov, your two
least favorite members of the company, standing behind you wearing identical
smiles.
Sergei
and Nastya are fraternal twins with the same blonde hair that’s almost the same
color as the snow outside and the same skin so pale that it’s almost
translucent. They even have the same icy
blue eyes. Sergei is playing the role of
Prince Seigfried and Nastya was going to play Odette, but you were put in the
position at the last second. They hold a
grudge against you because of that and because you are not a native born Russian. You’ve lived in Russia since you were only a
few months old, but that isn’t good enough for the proud McCarthyovs.
“The
Mistress wished for me to meet some important people before the
performance. I hope I haven’t caused an
inconvenience in obeying the wishes of our proud leader,” you respond with
saccharine sweetness.
The
twins exchange a quick glance and then smile back at you. “Oh, of course not. We just wanted to make sure you weren’t
worried about being late,” Nastya replies.
Sergei nods amiably beside her.
“Aw,
your concern is so sweet,” you tell them.
“I’m alright, though. I hope
we’re all prepared to give a wonderful performance tonight.”
“Of
course, Odette,” Sergei responds. “See
you on stage.” The two walk off arm in
arm, throwing matching smirks over their shoulders at you.
“Hey,
hurry up and get ready! It’s almost time
to go on!” Karina exclaims from behind you.
You jump a little and turn around to face her.
“Does
my makeup look alright?” you ask her.
She
gives you an appraising look and then smiles.
“Yep, you look gorgeous as always.
Are you nervous?” she says.
You
think for a moment and shake your head.
“No, not yet. I probably will be
when the curtain goes up, but I’ll be fine,” you tell her.
She
giggles at you and shakes her head. “I
don’t know how you’re able to be so calm and confident. I’m a nervous wreck and all I am is a little
swan!” she laughs.
“Aw,
it’ll be fine, Karina. Most of the
audience doesn’t know what we’re supposed to be doing anyway, so it’ll be
alright even if you mess up a little.
But I know you won’t. Worrying
always makes you perform better,” you assure her.
She
smiles and blushes a little. “Thanks,
(y/n). You always know how to make me
feel better. Good luck!” she tells you,
hugging you and planting air kisses on each of your cheeks. You do the same for her and then she
disappears into the crowd of bodies and you move closer to the stage and check
the laces on your pointe shoes. Alright. I’m ready. You take a few deep breaths in and out as you
hear the orchestra begin to play, quelling the fluttering of the butterflies in
your stomach as the curtain rises. You
go out onto the stage and dance like you’ve never danced before.
Everything
seems so much easier this performance.
Every jeté, every bourre'e, every fouetté rond de jambe en tournantI, every
move seems natural and fluid. You have
an astonishing amount of control and the pain in your toes is ignorable. Even when you have to allow Sergei to touch
you and when you have to pretend to be in love with him, nothing can destroy
your utter calm. And when the
performance is over, you step forward and give a deep, graceful bow. As you raise your head, you notice Joseph
Stalin and Ivan Bravinsky standing and applauding. Ivan catches your eye and nods slowly. You smile and look away from him.
The curtain closes once again
and everyone moves off to get changed and then go home. You aren’t an exception. You go to the dressing room and pull out your
clothes before peeling off your tutu and pulling your hair down. You slip into the warm clothes and put a
heavy jacket on over them. Last, but not
least, you carefully untie your pointe
shoes and tuck them into their bag, along with your toe pads. You slip on a pair of street shoes, pick up
your bag, and walk out of the dressing room and onto the street. It’s snowing outside, as per the usual in the
Russian winter, and you shiver. You hadn’t
expected it to be quite this cold. You
shrug and start walking in the direction of your apartment, smiling and humming
to yourself. You playfully exhale into
the night air, watching as your breath freezes and makes clouds around your
head.
“Ah, hello, (y/n),” you hear a
voice say from behind you.
“Yes, hello,” another, more feminine
voice says. Oh crap…
“Hello, Sergei. Nastya,” you reply cheerfully as you turn to
face the twins.
“Fancy seeing you out here, far
from home and far from the theater,” Nastya says. Her mouth is smiling but her eyes are not.
“Yes, it’s quite interesting
that we should run into each other,” you respond, hoping that your face doesn’t
betray the wariness that has come over you.
Something isn’t right…
“Well, my sister and I just
wished to… talk,” Sergei says. That’s definitely a threat.
“Oh, really? Well, what about? It’s a touch chilly outside, so I hope it
doesn’t take too long,” you say, feigning ignorance.
“Oh, it won’t,” he replies and
you notice Nastya has stopped smiling.
“That’s right. Now, if you’ll just be quiet and come with us
it’ll all be over before you know it,” Nastya purrs and you feel Sergei’s hand
clamp down over your mouth. Your eyes go
wide and you try to scream, but the sound is muffled. You’re panicking and it’s hard to breathe. Nastya has something in her hand, but you can’t
see what it is. You’re flailing around,
digging your nails into Sergei’s skin and trying to free yourself but nothing
works.
“Oh, you are playing a game, da?” you hear a deep voice ask and
Nastya and Sergei seem to freeze in place.
“May I join in?”
“Ha! I will take care of this one, Sergei,” Nastya
scoffs, approaching the speaker who is outside your field of vision.
“Oh, you don’t want to play with
me, then,” the voice says sadly. “Well,
I don’t like to hit girls, but you leave me no choice.” You hear a loud thunk with a sort of metallic
ringing sound and another meatier thud as something hits the ground. You feel Sergei start to tremble.
“My sister. You killed my sister!” Sergei roars, swinging
you around as he faces the speaker.
When your vision focuses you
look to see who Sergei is angry with and your eyes widen when you realize that
you have met him. It’s Ivan, the
captivating man you met before the ballet.
He has a broad smirk on his face and his violet eyes are narrowed. He’s holding something that sort of looks
like a detached faucet on a metal pipe. “Oh,
I didn’t kill her. Not yet. I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for women and
children, but you’re a man. I won’t go
easy on you,” he says menacingly.
“You… You…
You bastard!” Sergei shouts, leaning in toward Ivan.
Ivan casually glances down at
his pipe and runs his gloved hands over it.
“Hm, I wish people would be a little more creative with their
insults. It gets so boring to hear the
same things over and over again,” he muses.
“What the hell do you want?”
Sergei hisses. His grip keeps tightening
and you’re worried that he’s going to break your neck.
Ivan glances up at Sergei,
looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Hm,
what do I want? Well, I want you to let
that little sunflower go. I also want
you to take your sister home and tend to her wounds. Oh, and if you don’t, then I think that I
very much want to test my pipe out on you,” Ivan responds, smirking evilly and
swinging his pipe toward Sergei, stopping at the last second and holding the
end up the pipe right under his chin.
Sergei is steaming mad and he
looks from Ivan to Nastya, trying to decide.
Finally, he gives in and shoves you away, running to pick up Nastya and
then carrying her off into the night as quickly as he can. “Burn in Hell, bastard!” he shouts over his
shoulder as he runs.
Ivan chuckles darkly and then
turns his attention back to you. The
sudden momentum and lack of oxygen coupled with an adrenaline burst has left
you feeling weak and tired and you stagger forward. Ivan reaches an arm out and catches you,
pulling you in toward him. You blink
your eyes a few times and force your vision to focus as you look up at
Ivan. You give him a weak smile and say,”
Thank you for saving me.”
“It is no problem, sunflower,”
he responds with a smile. His hair hangs
down over his forehead and almost covers his stunning violet eyes.
“Is Nastya really alright,” you
ask him after a few moments of silence.
He chuckles. “She will be fine. She has a hard head, so my attack didn’t do
much damage,” he says and it seems to you that the air around him has grown
darker.
“U-um, Ivan? Are you alright?” you ask him nervously.
He seems to snap out of it and
smiles brightly down at you again. “Of
course. Now, let’s get you home where it’s
warm, da?”
You nod sleepily and allow him
to lead you down the street. Neither of
you really talk on the way, but his company is oddly comforting. You tell him where to turn and eventually you
both make it back to your apartment complex.
He walks you to your door and you open it, lingering in the doorway.
“U-um, would you like to come in
for some hot chocolate?” you ask him nervously and hopefully.
He smiles at you and says,” Da, that would be good.”
You smile back at him and step
aside to let him in. You move to the
kitchen and put on a pot with milk in it to heat up before going back into the
living room and peeling layers of clothing off.
You hang up your coat and put your boots into the closet before turning
to Ivan. “You’re welcome to take your
coat off, “you tell him.
“Thank you,” he responds, but
makes no move to remove his coat or scarf.
You shrug internally and go back
to the kitchen to check on the milk. It
is nice and warm now, so you mix the chocolate in and pour the liquid into a
couple of mugs. You carefully carry both
mugs into the living room and hand one to Ivan before sitting down next to him
on the sofa. You take a sip of the sweet
liquid and smile to yourself. Hot chocolate is one of the best things ever
invented!
You look up to see Ivan watching
you with a smile on his face and you set your mug down on the coffee
table. “What? Is there something on my face?” you ask him
half-jokingly.
He shakes his head, still
smiling. “No,” he responds.
You smile too, not knowing why
you’re smiling. “What is it, then?” you
ask him.
“You are quite beautiful, (y/n),”
he tells you. You feel yourself
blushing.
“T-thank you, Ivan,” you respond
nervously, looking down at your hands.
Ivan chuckles beside you and
says,” Can I show you something?”
“Sure. What is it?” you respond, still not looking
at him.
“No, you have to look at it,” he
says a little childishly, so you look up at him.
And your lips meet his. Without thinking, you respond and move your
mouth against his. His lips are soft and
warm and he tastes of chocolate. You
smile a little against his mouth as you pull away.
“What was that for?” you ask
him, your cheeks blazing.
“Oh, I just wanted to, “he
responds simply. “You’re such a
beautiful little sunflower that I wanted you to be my sunflower.”
You smile and look up at him
through your eyelashes. “I’d like that,”
you tell him quietly.
He beams down at you and takes a
sip of his hot chocolate. “That is good,
da!” he says happily.
“Da,” you respond softly,
leaning against him a little, enjoying the warmth of the hot chocolate and the
warmth in your heart.
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