ataraxia
(n.)
calmness or peace at mind

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"We all eat lies where our hearts are hungry."

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1942

<Natalia!> Headmaster Alonya growled as the young ballerina fell off her toes and onto her heel. A grave mistake and a sign of weakness. The Bolshoi permitted few girls to individual lessons. Natalia was grateful, but Headmaster Alonya was very strict.

<An arabesque is no hard task for you!> the Headmaster fumed, her face rigid as stone. Natalia's turquoise eyes fell in disappointment. She had been dancing all day. Her pointe shoes were beginning to hurt her feet, and her impeccable red bun was causing a headache. The tight leotards that clung wet to her strong frame did not improve her comfort.

<I am very sorry, Headmaster,> Natalia apologized, putting her feet together, flat on the hard, wooden floor and her hands to her side waiting for further instructions.

<Again, but now you hold it for twice as long! I was told that you were the best. Prove it.>

Headmaster Alonya Sirmnov was the head of Bolshoi Ballet Academy. She had been a ballerina her entire life until age couldn't allow it. She then became an instructor, climbing her way up until now. She was a very ill-tempered old woman. No doubt, the headmaster was beautiful, but the constant expression of entitlement and disappointment made her seem hideous.

But she was a good dancer. And a good teacher. And she did not allow mistakes in her studio. Natalia recognized this, and she respected it.

She rose again to the tips of her toes,  arching her back with the grace of a swan, lifting her left leg up from behind, over the top of her head. She looked forward with intensity, making sure the Headmaster saw her focus.

To hold the position was not very hard. Holding it for an hour and a half is a different situation altogether.

Natalia knew she could not, shake, shudder, become off-center, or even break a sweat on her face, or else Headmaster Alonya would extend her time.

It was not so hard for Natalia until the minutes got longer and her leg grew fatigued. Each minute—each second felt like an hour. At forty minutes, holding an arabesque became unbearable. Her strength was giving. It was too much for her.

<Shuddering shows weakness, Romanova. You are not weak,> Headmaster Alonya spoke with a steep harshness to her steel voice. Still holding her determined face, Natalia worked her best to stop shaking but failed. She collapsed to the floor with a thud, her legs feeling a wave of relief, but still shaking uncontrollably from the amount of stress she put on them.

Madame looked upon Natalia with sheer disgust. Natalia could not look her in the eye. Instead, she focused on the grains of the wooden floor. <Get up and face me, girl!>

Natalia knew what was coming. It happened all the time. It was a rare occasion when she will leave the studios with bruises only on her feet. She stood up, her feet flat on the floor, hands fell at her side, facing the woman with no expression.

Then in the blink of an eye, Headmaster Alonya reared back and delivered a blow to the side of Natalia's flustered, pale face with the back of her ring-dressed hand, leaving a small slash on Natalia's pretty face. A purple-red contusion already forming around the laceration.

<You do not fail, Natalia! You do not fail!> Headmaster screamed at her. <You are capable of so much. You will not fail as long as you are standing in front of me. Now I want to see the routine we practiced with a group this morning. No mistakes!>

Natalia bolted into action. The leaping and twirling around were so much easier than holding one move for so long. She excelled at this routine and the Academy was going to put Natalia at the center and have her own solo when they debuted. Natalia liked to believe that the reason she was so great was that Headmaster Alonya was so hard on her. Natalia wanted to dance. She wanted to be great. She wanted to be the greatest. And she could never be without Headmaster Alonya.

A knock on the studio door sounded. <Continue,> Headmaster Alonya barked as she moved across the studio to get the door, looking in the mirrors to watch her student.

Natalia heard a man's smooth, attractive voice echo off the studio walls like a song. <I am here for Natalia.>

<And who do you think you are? A world-class athlete is training, boy!> she yipped.

Natalia tried not to think about the man at the door as she carried out the routine with ease, but her curiosity caused her distraction. She still danced, only slower, listening in.

<I am Alexi Shostakov, Headmaster. I am here for Natalia,> he repeated back with a distasteful slyness to his husky voice. Natalia had completely forgotten that her Alexi was coming today.

Alexi courted the ballerina since she had attended the school. Almost a year. She had been so focused on ballet that she had completely forgotten about their evening they were to spend together.

This was the first time she had not met him at the front door for the academy. She did not want him to see her while she was training.

Headmaster Alonya's face fell in realization. Most important people knew of the name Shostokov. Alexi's family was very wealthy and are prominent figures in Soviet politics. <Of course. Come in Mr. Shostakov. Are the two of you walking?>

He ignored Headmaster Alonya, already sensing she was a witch of a woman.

Natalia hated for Alexi to see her like this. A sweating mess. Hair tucked away into a bun. Ballet leotards. She would have rather been presentable. Headmaster Alonya always has different plans for her.

All Natalia could do was wipe the sweat of her lip and brow before he approached her, taking her hand into his and placing a soft kiss onto it.

<You look dazzling, Natalia,> he complimented. Natalia was taking in Alexi's looks as always. He was a very good looking man. Piercing blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, tall, and slender. They were both very young to be courting. Him at 16 and her at 14. But she had never caught herself looking at a man in this way before. But she supposed it was good. Was that not part of being in love?.

<Well so do you, Alexi,> she responded, broadcasting a stunning smile that was so rare for her to show.

<I'd like to take you out in the city today,> he revealed. Natalia smiled.

<I would love that,> she responded. <I must get ready first. I can not go out in a ballerina bun and leotards, can I?>

He chuckled. <I suppose not. I'll help you, Natalia,> Alexi said, taking her arm and leading her out of the studio. She observed him as as she followed with grace. She noticed that his brunette hair had a fresh cut and his pale face was  shaven clean. He smelled wonderful. Like snow fallen fresh in the pines. Something Natalia had not had the chance to smell in a long time.

They rounded a corner and reached her room. <Here we are.>

She opened the door and motioned for Alexi to come in. He took a step in, taking in the room.

She took off her pointe shoes with care trying not to hurt her feet.

<You look as if you are in pain,> Alexi noticed. Natalia looked up at him with a knowing smile.

<I am,> she revealed as she took off the slipper allowing her bare feet to show. Alexi's face contorted in pain for Natalia. Her feet were horrible. They looked like an old engine that was being kept together only by simple tape, glue, and rope as it rattled and groaned on.

<What happened to them?> he questioned with empathy. She had calluses on the pads of her feet and tops of her toes along with nails bruised purple and her feet wrapped tight with bandages.

<I've been dancing since I was two,> she told him. <It is not very good on your feet.>

<Here, allow me,> he said, unwrapping the bandage, to reveal more purple bruises along with her bones. It felt so good to Natalia for someone else to tend to her aching feet other than her. She liked the difference.

He, with care,  unwrapped the opposite pointe shoe and did the same as he did with the other one.

<Would it hurt if I massaged them. They must ache. I'll be careful around the bruises,> he promised. She nodded in consent.  Alexi wrapped his large, careful hands around her small foot and massaged them with a delicate touch, sending relieving chills up his Natalia's spine.

<Thank you, Alexi,> she said with pleasure as he squeezed her aching foot in the right way. For about ten minutes, he did this until she assured him it was enough. She stood up to go clean up, but he stopped her, taking her face in his hands.

<What about this? There is no way that happened from dancing,> he concluded, correct, but unknowing of it..

<Headmaster Alonya did this to me. I didn't- I couldn't do as I was told, so she punished me,> Natalia told him. His face changed from sorrowful to angry. <It is okay, Alexi.>

He shook his head. <We will see about that. It is my job to keep you safe. I will not have that woman strike you for no legitimate reason. Now you can go clean up. I will put away your things.>

She hurried into her bath and primmed herself up for her time in the city with Alexi.

She dressed in one of her more extravagant dresses. Her hair had a natural, beautiful curl, so she didn't have to do much with that. She reddened her lips and blushed her cheeks, putting on a delicate perfume Ivan had gifted to her  before they parted ways. She was ready to make another good impression on Alexi.

As she came out of the bathroom, Alexi's jaw dropped as he took off his hat and put it to his chest.

<And I thought you were breathtaking before,> he gasped, handing her shoes and slipping her coat on over her. All she could do was smile. She could not imagine her life without Alexi. He was everything she had ever wanted. Not only was he attractive, but he was also kind and a gentleman.

Alexi carried all her things out of her for her. He led her out of the academy and opened his car door for her so that she didn't have to.

And there were off. Into the city. Natalia's life was going quite wonderful.

Walking side by side in the sidewalk, they had wonderful conversations. Both Alexi and Natalia had never spoken to someone like they do to each other. They could hold a steady conversation on anything whether it be ballet or the weather. Moscow was beautiful now during the winter. It was freezing, yes, but the couple did not seem to mind, for they were too busy taking in the beauty of the Winter and of each other.

<So how is it being a test pilot?> she asked him, very interested in his occupation. He had told her something about it, and the pure grit of it fascinated her. Alexi had only recently landed the job and was doing quite well.

<It's a great job. Here in the Soviet Union, we have the fastest of planes and rockets. And I am the first to try them all,> he described, his voice laced in passion.

<That must be dangerous. A disaster is bound to happen, right?> she asked all the sudden worried for Alexi.

<Ehhh,> he breathed hesitantly, not knowing how to answer without worrying her any farther. <Not necessarily,> he said. <But anything can happen.>

<It sounds exciting,> Natalia said looking at him with interest. Alexi is looking forward into the snowing sky in thought. The colder it got, the closer they bundled together as the walked.

<Oh, it definitely can be,> he said. <Tell me about ballet. How is it going.>

<Sometimes I feel as though my training sessions are becoming less and less about ballet,> she told him. He raised an eyebrow.

<What do you mean by that?> he asked.

<Well, just the other day, I was being taught something called Morse Code and how to assemble and disassemble a bomb. They are also teaching me to shoot a gun.> she revealed. <I just don't know. They tell me their reasoning behind it and it does make sense, but for some reason, I can not help but feel that something odd is happening at the academy.>

Alexi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, Turning to face Natalia. <I think we should marry,> he came out and said. <I love you and you love me. What could go wrong?>

<I would love to be your wife, Alexi,> Natalia responded holding his hands with tight exciexcitement.

<Wonderful,> he breathed.

<When do you want to do it?> she asked.

A wide smile crosses Alexi's face. <We are in the city now.>

Natalia returned the smile. <That is fine with me.>

With everything going their way, they lived in a state of ataraxia. Nothing could get to them. They were unstoppable.

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