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The lake is still, save for the swans. And every night, she watches them, one by one, turn into beautiful women. Girls her father had captured, tempted to him and turned into everlasting beautiful creatures. She finds it ironic they’re swans, because swans are not as delicate as they appear. But still, they’ve no power over something that’s fae with all the magic that comes from that lineage. She, too, carries magic, although she had left much to be desired--a witch, and only barely one at that.
She’s the one who feeds them. She dances on a street corner, using what little fae magic she has to catch an eye or two. Just a few coins and she can get bread. And that, she tears up and throws to the captive girls. She wonders if they must hate her. She tried, once, to undo the curse her father put on them. It failed, because he’s more fae than she is--her mother was human, and the magic fades with blood. She knew then she’d never be able to help them, least of all Odette.
Sometimes, she wondered if her mother was once one of the swan-women. Desperate enough to throw herself at the faerie keeping them captive, to give him herself and to bear him a half-blooded daughter. But she can’t ask him--he never speaks about her mother, and there are no portraits of her. None of her, either. It’s only portraits of Baron von Rothbart, in various, beautiful forms. A vain fae who surrounds himself in beauty, capturing the youth of maidens to keep and toy with.
In her spare time, she danced. Ballet, it was called. She wasn’t the best, and she never had a partner, and it was mostly teaching herself. Sometimes, she watches the Queen of the Swans dance on the shore, graceful and beautiful. She herself longs to do a pas de deux with her, not knowing what the deep sorrow in her chest is.
“I want to set you free, Odette,” she whispers into the silence, “I’m sorry I don’t know how.”
One day, though, her heart catches in her throat as she approaches the lake. There is Odette, human like all nights on this lake. But she isn’t alone. A young man is dancing with her. It feels like a white-hot knife stabbing her in the chest. She falls to her knees as she watches, as Odette tells him how to free her. One who has never loved before must swear to love her forever. The prince says he will, and leaves as Rothbart appears. She can hear shouted threats, but she no longer cares.
She retreats to her threadbare room, burying her face in the pillow. It’s not until the door creaks open that she even thinks about how long it’s been, or that anyone saw her fleeing the lake. She sits up, about to ask who it is when she sees her father. It’s one of his more handsome, human forms. She immediately knows that he wants something.
“It’s time for you to fulfill the reason you were born, my dear Odile. Soon, none will be able to take Odette from us. Soon, she will be ours forever,” he whispers, sweet and tempting words. If she didn’t understand her feelings before, she understands them now. Love. She had fallen for the Queen of the Swans.
“...What must I do, Father?” she numbly asks. After all, you never refuse a fae, especially not when they know your name. Especially not when the are your father. She doesn’t look up at his face, but she can tell the serene smile has cracked further, into something baring teeth--just barely hiding the wickedness beneath it.
“At the ball on the morrow, you shall take Odette’s form. And you shall lead Prince Siegfried astray. Then, and only then, shall Odette be unable to escape us, my dear daughter,” he whispers to her. More temptations. He intends to use her. A nod as numb as she feels. She, then, is to be the one to condemn the woman she has fallen for.
Her father leaves. She is left in silence, looking into the mirror across from the bed. She has none of his handsome features, nor is she a beautiful maiden. Of course he would make her look like Odette. Where Odile is plain and boring, Odette is as beautiful as the dawn that breaks through the window.
“Will I really condemn her to life as a swan, trapped in my father’s grasp?” she asks herself, eyes fixed on the mirror. Odette, she realizes, must be desperate to tell the prince she only just met her secret. It’s then her heart sinks. Is she to go against her father, who will surely kill her? As the dawn breaks over the lake of tears, Odile stands and first walks then runs to the side of the lake, where she falls to her knees.
“...I know you’ve no reason to trust me, Odette. I know you’ve no reason to expect kindness from the daughter of a monster, who has done nothing to spare you pain before now. But I will not let him take away your freedom, and I will not allow you to be bound to a man you’ve only just met,” she declares furiously to the water. Her reflection seems different, more confident and strong. Not mouse-like. Perhaps, she thinks, almost like a black swan.
“If what I do will kill me, if my father will strike me down, so be it. If my last act is to free you with the love that has burned in my bosom for years, if my final curtain is to break the chains upon you with words alone, then whether you return those feelings or not matters little to me. So long as you are free and not bound to anyone unless you so choose it to be, I will be happy. I will not break and I will not bend, I will stand tall against the storm and shelter you until you need it not anymore.”
She isn’t sure if Odette hears her out on the lake, but she is shaking. She won’t have long out here. Her father will look for her eventually. Magicks to make one look like another take hours, and she will want to have time to prepare a countermeasure so she can spring her own trap.
So with the words spoken to the water, she retreats to the castle. And there, she allows him to transfigure her into Odette’s mirror image, dressed all in black. Fitting, she thinks, now that she has likened herself to a black swan. She will bite like a swan, too, then. She’s given some time to herself, to practice acting delicate like Odette. But she doesn’t. Instead, she prepares a potion. One to dispel the transfiguration over her. And she hides it, tucking it close to her heart.
Then it’s off to the ball, and she is left to dance on her own while he woos young women with his handsome form. She is to enchant the prince, but she doesn’t. Even when he approaches her, and she dances with him, she’s preparing. It’s at the end of the dance, when her father is distracted by the numerous women fawning over him, the she gets her chance. She sneaks the bottle and drinks it.
“Odette? What are you doing? Odette? Odette, what’s happening to your face!?” the prince asks, growing increasingly distressed. But as Odette’s visage melts away and the crowds part, she feels for the first time that she has power over men and women alike. Like a true fae, like her father. But she will not, she decides, let it corrupt her.
“I am not Odette. But I come to speak for her. For no woman should be bound to a prince she met by a lake for just a night. I, who have tended to her over the years, have come to make a vow before the world. And how thankful I am that you have drawn the world together enough for me to do so.”
Baron von Rothbart is glaring at her, but she feels powerful. Too powerful even for him. He can’t do anything to harm her right now, lest he reveal himself in a castle full of armed guards and him with no spells prepared save for two.
“I come to declare my love for Odette that she might be free. But it is not a selfish love. It is a love the runs as deep as the blood in my body, and is as strong as the mountain against the wind. If she wishes to be with another, then I care not, so long as she is free to make that choice. Let this voice of mine break her chains with the white-hot words it speaks. And let it lift her to the air on her wings, that she might fly away from the sorrowful life she has known. I am Odile, the Black Swan, and I will let none other speak their love for her and chain her anew with their words!”
Lightning illuminates the room as it goes dark. Thunder cracks. And then, pain splits through her breast. She can see, as she crumples into a painful heap, struck down by her father’s magic, that everything has become a panic. Chaos has bloomed, and while the prince calls for her father’s head, he also calls for her to be aided. She sees her father overwhelmed, growing older by the moment, as if something has stripped away his power. She sees people fleeing from the ballroom, and guards arriving--some even rushing toward her. Everything is spinning and growing dark, but she just smiles.
When she closes her eyes, she can see Odette standing in the storm, as the wind whips around her. But even as the dawn breaks in the midst of it, she remains human. Relieved tears stream down her face, and she begins to run. Odile smiles to herself. Odette is free. If this is all she can do with her magic, then it is enough.
The world goes black.
When she awakens, she is weak and frail in a warm bed. But she is not alone. A head is resting next to hear, someone slumped over in a chair. She reaches for them, her vision blurry. The head lifts, and a beautiful face she never thought she would see smiling at her is there, relieved tears in her eyes.
“Odette?”
“Odile. Odile, you’re awake. I never thought I’d see you again, I never thought you’d wake. I was told your father struck you with his magic, and when I came to find you, the prince was having you taken elsewhere and I-- I feared the worst.”
The words come like a sweet melody. Odette was worried for her. Odette came for her. She feels tears welling up in her own eyes, and she reaches out to touch Odette’s face with both hands. To be sure she’s real and not some dying dream.
“Thank you, Odile. Thank you so much. If I’d only known... If I’d known, I would have told you so long ago,” the Swan Queen whispers to her, gently turning her face and kissing her hand. Odile’s heart swells.
“Thank you, Odette, for giving me the strength to find myself and something to fight for.”
She sits up. Her back is sore, and it’s only when she notices a black feather fall that she realizes why. She had grown wings, like any true fae would. Black, feathered wings. Like a swan.
“...My black swan, who fought valiantly with her voice... Who destroyed an evil, old sorcerer with nothing but the words on her lips and the love in her heart...” Odette whispers, reaching out to gently run fingers over soft feathers. Odile smiles at her.
“Yes. Your black swan, and no one else’s. This swan only dances for you.”