Everything In Between | A Prince William Fanfiction |

She Never Came Back

What if Jaclyn never accepted the offer to return to England and instead stayed in Paris?

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TW: violent imagery, descriptions of abuse. I've put in brackets that mark the beginning and end of that section if you would like to skip it.

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It was just a show.

Just like all the other shows she had been performing in for the last eight years she had been an etolie. The name Jaclyn Webber was uttered with awe, fame of her talents growing as the years went on. She performed for sold out crowds with showers of flowers and ovations that lengthened the night.

Tonight was just a show.

It wasn't even a special show. A random night of excerpts being performed, dances done a thousand times. Fear wasn't what clouded her mind, no it was the past sneaking up to come haunt her sixteen years on.

Her ribs whimpered sorely, and her head ached, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.

Music splashed through the curtains and without a second thought her feet started to flutter across stage. Her arms breathing life into the movements of the dying swan. Wings might as well have sprouted from her back as her feet breezed by the stage.

The dance was easy in a technical sense, but the emotions were overpoweringly raw. It was almost improv, every dancer that performed the variation did it slightly different, depending on how they felt it in their hearts. She was no exception.

Her feet sped as her arms flapped like extensions of a swan, and then she would freeze feet stuttering slowly arms aching like one was broken. The dance was a spiral of chaos and dark beauty, and she ached with each port de bras and cambre.

Her foot pressed strongly in the dead shoes into an attitude derriere balance, coming out and switching into a easy flowing fouette, the understanding of everlasting struggle spilling into the audience.

Jaclyn Webber, the world's most renowned ballerina slid to the floor arching back into the famous swan pose. Her arms swung rapidly, all encompassing fear, before coming to a stark stand still, morbid acceptance.

She stood taking more feather light steps on her toes, movements liquid and intoxicating as she poured over her long and lean legs. Jaclyn turned around and around taking the stage as hers, but on her final turn she had caught the one spot she had been avoiding.

The box where their guests of honor were sitting.

That was a paralyzing moment.

Her head kept track of the counts aware that the music was ticking away, but her back would not turn. Instead her feet boureed in place, and her arms improvised as her heart relived the past.

Finally she pulled away, and descended on the floor in a long lunge. A silent sob ruined her insides, and with the small tears that welled in her eyes she folded over herself.

The swan had died.

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Backstage was oddly calm, but just as equally tense for the show being done. All the etolies lined up, pushing Jaclyn to the middle to protect her as their guests made their way backstage.