The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

57: Space to Think

November 6th, 2010

"When are you going to put us all out of our misery?"

Jaclyn looked her partner up and down her sharp swan makeup probably making her appear scarier than normal. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Marriage Jaclyn Amalia, marriage."

She surveyed their surroundings. Taking note that they were currently standing in the wings waiting to make their onstage entrance, and the full swan corps was currently behind them. The girls all dressed in the same soft white tutus were no longer bothered with talk of her royal boyfriend, and barely batted an eye at Thomas's statement.

"This doesn't feel like the appropriate time-

"When is the appropriate time?"

"When I'm not about to go onstage and die."

Thomas rolled his eyes, hands on his hips, "You're always dying on stage it can't be that hard."

"All I'm saying is that the guy wants to make you an actual princess," as she opened her mouth to correct him his glare slammed it shut. "You don't really have a good argument to be upset. You should be happy that you have someone who wants to spend forever with you, hell you should be happy you're allowed to marry him."

The retort is the first real slap she's felt regarding the subject. Tabloids could call her an array of words for prolonging the situation, and those around her could whisper about her cowardice. She didn't care. But she cared about what Thomas thinks, and she cared about his feelings.

Before she could say anything, Thomas's hand was on her back the other taking her leading hand as they ran out on the stage. They separate and the only thing on her mind is the dance. The tragic final dance between the lovers.

She flocked with the corps, arms fluttering and lengthening like overarching wings, and even though the movement feels magical her expression was sorrowful.

Each time her and Thomas touch pain is infused with it, and she hoped he could hear her silent apology as he dipped her back, their foreheads touching as their eyes clenched shut. Siegfried and Odette had accepted that the only way to break the spell now and release the swans is for her to die.

As controlled chaos filled the stage Jaclyn ran up onto the elevated prop rock. She looked to Thomas to see a frozen gasp etched across his face, and she withered her arms towards him for dramatic effect.

She retched herself over the stage, hitting a point in the air where she hung beautifully like an ornament meant for decoration. Then she was free falling, hurtling towards the thick foam mat waiting below. She considered lingering, splaying out and just taking a chance to breathe in the relative seclusion, but then Thomas was above her and they had been scolded before for jumping when the other was laying on the pad.

Once he's down safely she collapsed back down with him, both their eyes drilling up at the fly system as the music continued to swell. They wait and they wait without saying a word, a nightly tradition, until finally the audience cracked with pounding applause.

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Closing night was always bittersweet. Everyone was temporarily saying goodbye to their characters, parting from a role they held so closely to themselves for so long. This was not Jaclyn's first time playing Odette/Odile, but there was something about taking off the white feathered tutu that stung. Her hands clutched at the elastic straps, but eventually she departed from the costume and returned it to wardrobe.

Closing night also meant chaos erupted backstage the second the curtain dropped. The backstage crew ran around tearing sets down, replacing gels in the lights, and unplugging the equipment that was specific for the show.