Criminal Intent: Murder, Mayhem and... Battenberg?

Three

"Every villan is a hero in his own mind." - Tom Hiddleston

17TH DECEMBER, AGED 12

The young girl giggled, dark curls tied back in purple ribbons bouncing on her shoulders. Her pale eyes glistened with the hope and excitement all little girls had. The twelve year old wore a dark purple leotard and a small black tutu, which she continually messed with, never happy with the way her outfit looked, no matter how many times her ballet teacher reassured her.

She hid behind the velvet red curtains, occasionally peeking out to see the theatre hall filling with guests, all as excited as her. Letting the curtains fall back into place, she stepped back, ballet slippers silent against the wooden floors.

"Come on, it's almost time." Calista Villette called to her; the two had been the best of friends since a young age, pratically unseperable. Her toothy grin reassured the young ballet prodigy, and she smiled back. Isadora, although that was not what she was known by back then, stood, fingers entwined with Calista's as they both waited. Calista wore the inverse of Isadora, a black leotard and purple tutu, yet their make up was identical - smokey eyeshadow, with a delicate flick of eyeliner, and dark red lips, something that would soon become Isadoras casual makeup. Each had glitter covering their facing, along with their bare arms and legs.

As the music began to play, the two became more and more nervous. They played the two largest parts, each with solo performances. They peeked once again, watching as the dancers leapt around, all perfectly in time with the elegant violin music accompanying them, just flashes of white across the stage.

"Calista." She said to her friend, barely audible over the music. Her eyes locked with her friends.

"Yes?"

"Is this what we want to do?" She questioned.

"What do you mean?" Calista replied, confused.

"I mean, is this what we want to do with our future? Is ballet just a hobby, or do we want to perform forever?"

"Not forever, we'd get a little bored, but all of our life time? We could. As long as we did it together." Calista thought before answering, each word pronounced in her Scottish accent.

"'As long as we did it together'? I thought we agreed before we were friends, no cheesy stuff." Isadoras nose crinkled up in disgust, but she couldn't help grinning.

"Best friends forever though, right?" Calista asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Right." She agreed, and they hugged again.

A few more moments of silence, before they were called to the wings.

The two nodded at each other, a silent good luck, before taking their places at the wings on either side of the stage. Isadora shook, purely out of fear. What if she messed up? What if she forgot the dance? What if she slipped? What if, what if, what if.

And then she was on.

She glided onto the stage, watching as the chorus dancers froze, leaving the stage free for herself and Calista. The way they moved was hauntingly elegant, like ghosts. Their movements were identical, like mirrors, each moving with the grace of the faeries they were portraying. The piano joined in with the violin, the music becoming more intense, the two dancers becoming more fierce, more passionate.

Each step was light, each sweep elegant, each leap precise. The crowd stared, entranced by the dark dancers making their way around the stage, using all of the available space. Their mouths hung open wide, and their eyes glossed over, completely and utterly spellbound.