A sort of extended scene from my other story, Cygnus. Piewacket asked for a longer scene, so I decided to write it.

Yeah... I don't own Swan Lake. Only a copy of the Mariinsky's 1991 DVD with Yulia Makhalina and Igor Zelensky.

Odette nearly flew from the decorated ballroom. Her feet lightly touched the ground as she ran through the palace, not thinking at all.

She was looking for someplace safe, where her emotions wouldn't humiliate her, wouldn't humiliate him.

Odette's mind raced as she sped towards the gates, finding herself in a large garden, complete with a small pond, similar to a lake. She collapsed on the ground, her heart ripping itself into little pieces as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her mind replayed his betrayal, taunting her with his eloquent words that he had once spoken to her.

Siegfried had told her how much he loved her, how she was the only he wanted to be with, how she controlled his heart. As she pondered the truth of his words, he entered the garden, searching for her.

He spotted her after several minutes, and then sprinted over towards his love. For a few moments, he held her in his arms, unwilling to believe that he had caused so much pain, so much death. Her sobs made him forget his own personal pity party. He crushed her in his arms, trying not to let go.

She shrank away from him, her eyes betraying her emotions--hurt, despair, betrayal...

He felt like he wanted to die, like he couldn't believe that he had done such a thing to her. And as she saw what she had made him feel like, she felt disgust. How could she hurt him, allow him to see what she felt like? She may have been betrayed, but that did not mean she couldn't love him, her traitor.

He misinterpreted her disgust, thought that it was for him. And he recoiled in shock and horror. "Odette, I'm sorry, please..."

She smiled at him. "Hush."

He was confused now; first she had been disgusted, now she was happy.

"Why did you choose her?"

He blinked at her question, unable to explain the feeling that Rothbart had ignited. The fear, the horror... He didn't know she would die. "I really don't know."

His eyes were barely able to register her nod. He spent most of his energy fighting back tears, and was unable to see her energy was waning.

"Odette, I... I'm so sorry. I love you and I didn't know that..."

She cut him off, failing to understand. "What?"

He looked at her. She looked happy again, if only just this time.

"I love you and..." he began.

"I didn't know." Her voice, so weak, pained him. Had she really not known that he loved her?

"Well, I love you." Just for good measure.

"Although I love you too, that doesn't help our current situation." How strange that, on her deathbed, they were exchanging vows, words of affection.

"Well, I'm sorry." He kissed her. It was unlike any other kiss they had had. This one was a deperate act, and final embrace between two lovers. A final goodbye.

She pulled her head back and laid it on the bench. "If I had known it would end like this, I never would have told you."

She stopped breathing, her hand falling limply against the stone.

He cried.