capture.

The lake has been reduced to a mere backdrop now, Siegfried would have forgotten all about it, were she not standing knee-deep in its waters. The water sprays onto her clothes in big, heavy drops, it clings to her hands and her jawline as she wades after the swan woman in her retreat of all arms, all billowing dress. The drops taste strangely salty on her lips when she breathes in, swallowing down several desperate gulps of air. The woman with gold in her hair and the sky in her gaze is a foreign element in her life as Siegfried has lived it hitherto, she is a freedom, a kind of beauty that even the forest must be unfamiliar with, although she seems at the same time also one with its depths. Siegfried must capture her. She must capture her heart.

If she had only been a huntsman.

The woman’s hand is cool and slim and all but disappearing between her fingers when she finally catches hold of it, letting go at the very first glance of blue eyes on the wilderness of her features, the purse of pale pink lips, she is a swan no more, but the regalness of the bird remains in her. Siegfried steps back and introduces herself with a bow, rather than any more appropriate curtsy. I am Princess Siegfried, she tells the swan woman.

I am the Swan Queen, Odette, the swan woman replies, looking still cautious, looking still fearful.

Looking still stronger.