Jane and The Dragon and related characters are the property of Martin Baynton and Weta.

This fic was written for day one of Janther Week 2018.

Prompt: Metanoia

"I get that he's talented, but does he have to be such a dick about it?" Jane stabbed her straw into the lemon wedge at the bottom of the glass. Half-melted ice cubes tinkled brightly and soda water fizzed in stark contrast to her mood.

"Jane!" Gasped Pepper, scandalised. "Someone might hear you!"

Jane glanced around the almost empty bar. It was early evening, late afternoon, really, way too early for most patrons. She didn't recognise any of the few faces she saw. No doubt Pepper's concerns were unfounded, but she lowered her voice slightly as she continued.

"I'm just saying, he's so arrogant. He stalks through the halls with his nose in the air. I don't know why anyone puts up with him!"

"He does take things seriously," Pepper conceded. "But the man can dance!"

Sure, Jane had to admit there was no lack of ability in Gunther Breech. She had heard of him before she had even transferred to the Royal Kippernium Ballet Company, but who hadn't? He was the youngest Principal dancer in the company's history. Although personally she found his performances a bit emotionally stilted, there was no denying his technical ability. His gravity-defying leaps across the stage had earned him the nickname of 'the Blackbird,' partly in reference to his dark hair.

Jane thought of the nicknames her hair had earned her over the years. None of them were flattering.

"He's just so-so-ugh! Stuck-up, self-absorbed, and . . . blech!"

"Not to mention good-looking," teased Pepper with a sly smile in Jane's direction.

Jane refused to take the bait, instead teasing back, "Don't let Drake hear you say that; you'll break his heart."

Pepper made a dismissive noise at the mention of her 'special friend,' even as colour rose in her cheeks.

Personally Jane was a huge fan of the two creatives together. Pepper was an excellent seamstress and costume designer, and Drake was unparalleled at set design. They both worked at the ballet company and their shy interactions had most of the dancers eagerly hoping for the two to become official.

"And actually," said Pepper haughtily. "Drake and Gunther get on rather well."

"Really?" Asked Jane in surprise. "I never see him talking to anyone. I thought Gunther didn't have any friends."

"Not everyone makes friends as easily as you do, Jane," said Pepper reproachfully. "He may not be the most outgoing soul ever but that doesn't make him a bad person."

"I haven't made that many friends since I moved here, but I'm glad you're one of them!" Jane put her arm around Pepper's shoulders and gave a quick squeeze.

"Well, me too," Pepper smiled forgivingly. "But I do wish you'd be a little kinder to Gunther. He needs to get out more. Dancing is his whole life."

"Oh, Pepper!" Jane laughed. "Every dancer says that, even me!"

"No, it really is!" Pepper lowered her voice and leaned towards Jane as she started telling secrets. "His father owns a national grocery store chain. Gunther was supposed to take over managing it when he was done with school, but he chose ballet instead. His father disowned him, and he was all the family Gunther had in the world! Can you imagine?" Pepper shook her head in sorrow as she recounted Gunther's tragic history.

Jane sighed. "Verbena Salter, you are too good for this world." Pepper 'tutted' at the use of her real name but Jane continued. "But for your sake I promise I will try to be civil with him. Now I really need to head off soon so let's talk about something more cheerful than Gunther Breech's sorry life story. Tell me what you have planned for Giselle?"

Pepper's face lit up as she began talking about tulle, satin and lace. This was to be her first time as head costume designer and Jane knew she was nervous about it.

"It's going to look amazing," she reassured her friend. "As long as we have a Giselle to dance around!"

The biggest piece of gossip going around the company at present was Prima Ballerina Gwendoline Ankarcrona's injured ankle. All of her medical needs (and a few more besides, Jane suspected,) were being met by the Company's main Patron, Caradoc Kippernook, a man of old money. It was beginning to look like she would not be recovered in time to dance the main role in the major production.

"I was so looking forward to sharing the stage with her," Jane pouted. "She's so lovely!"

"I know, Petal," said Pepper sympathetically. "I was so nervous the first time I had her for a fitting, I was sure I would stab her with a pin. But she was so calm and gentle; it's no wonder they call her the Queen!"

Jane hummed in agreement, before checking the time on her phone.

"Whoops! C'mon, we'd better go. I don't know about you but I have an early start tomorrow."

Pepper nodded, gathering her jacket and purse. Jane slid off the bar stool and offered her friend an arm.

"I'll walk you to your car," she said, and the two girls pushed their way out into the dimming light of the evening.

A group of rowdy young people brushed past them, making their way into the bar, their night just beginning.

"We certainly live a different lifestyle than most people our age," observed Pepper, apparently reading Jane's thoughts.

"I know, but I wouldn't have it any other way," replied Jane, before adding with a cheeky grin, "Afterall, dancing is my life!"

The sun was barely creeping over the horizon the next morning when Jane arrived at the Royal Kippernium Ballet Company and made her way inside. The building was unlocked and would soon be filled with the voices of dancers and instructors, but for now the hallways were quiet. Jane slipped into one of the smaller practice spaces, shrugging out of her oversized hoodie and sitting down on the cool timber floorboards to change her shoes.

She enjoyed starting her days warming up alone, even if it meant she had to get up earlier than necessary. She had transferred from her previous company a few months ago now and was gradually getting to know everyone at Kippernium but it was nice to have some time to just move, without having to make conversation and deal with the social complexities of being the New Girl.

Piling her unruly mop of hair into a messy bun Jane made her way over to the small audio system and plugged in her iPod, setting it to shuffle though her 'dance' playlist. She began with stretches as music filled the stark room, before moving to the barre and cycling through positions which came with the ease of a lifetime of practice.

Clearing her mind, she focused on the music and movement, the freeing feeling that came with stretching her muscles, ready for a day of hard work. Strangely for Jane it was always warming up that reminded her how lucky she was to be able to do this for a living. She had grown up watching videos of ballerinas moving with seemingly effortless grace across the screen. Her parents had taken her to see a live performance for her sixth birthday, and she had stared transfixed as they spun, leapt and flew over the stage, strength in every movement. That night had truly cemented things in Jane's mind. She was going to do that.

Granted, it hadn't come easily. Jane was not a graceful child. In fact, she often had her dance teachers despairing as she tripped over her own feet, but each failure had made her more determined to succeed.

Now Jane knew that a ballerina's grace was in no way effortless. It was pure hard work and bloody-mindedness, and that was what made her proudest to be one. She had seen dancers dance their best work on a broken foot before leaving the stage to collapse in agony. It was her life, and that was why it was her livelihood.

Even still, a large part of her success so far had been luck, and the support of her parents. Sure her dad had been a little disappointed that she wouldn't be following him into accounting and taking over the family business, and maybe her mum had had misgivings about the lifestyle and physical stress, but in the end they had backed her all the way. Jane couldn't think of a single major performance they had missed, from her stage début as a child through to every opening and closing night of her professional career.

The idea of being disowned by them for following her passion was incomprehensible to her.

Jane paused. Where had that come from?

Shaking her head she stepped away from the barre and began moving freely around the room.

Gunther Breech's problems with his father were no excuse for his poor attitude. Jane had been genuinely excited to meet him when the Company's principle director Theodore Boarmaster had introduced them, but her enthusiasm had dimmed when exposed to his withering gaze. It had died a quick death in the days after when he had ignored her entirely.

She couldn't despise him completely, however. Watching him dance still sent a thrill through her. Good God the man could move. Watching him lift Gwendoline as though she weighed nothing, moving with her across the stage . . . There was true beauty there. His technical abilities were unparalleled, but his emotional depth was definitely similar to that of a car park puddle.

Jane smiled a little ruefully to herself as she remembered all the times she had been told she danced too much with her heart and too little with her head.

Gunther Breech, she felt, danced entirely too much from his head.

The music changed and Le Cygne floated through the room. Jane pushed all thoughts of Gunther from her mind and began to perform the Dying Swan, her favourite short solo.

She may not have been the picture of an elegant swan with her messy hair, black tights and leotard and occasional sloppy footwork, but Jane lost herself in the music, the movement, and the empty room.

The song finished and Jane sat up from the floor, noticing a shadow cross the glass door of the room as she did so.

"I guess the others are here," she said softly to herself, standing up and unplugging her iPod. Sure enough a few moments later one of the other girls, Daisy, poked her head through the door.

"The Teddy wants us in the Drill Hall," she said, before moving on to gather up any other dancers.

Jane smiled at the affectionate name some of the girls used for Theodore, although never in his hearing. Gathering her belongings she made her way to the much larger main practice room.

A few days later, the Drill Hall, as it had been named by exhausted dancers generations ago, was abuzz with the voices of almost the entire company. There was going to be an announcement, although no one seemed to know what. Jane could only guess that it had something to do with the lead role of Giselle. Would Gwendoline be dancing it? And if not, who? Her gaze drifted to the corner of the room where Gunther was standing with Ivon, Company Jack-of-all-trades and Theodore's good friend, and the Teddy himself.

The two older men were talking quietly and Gunther seemed to be listening intently. His gaze flicked across the massed group of dancers and found hers, holding it briefly before Jane looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Daisy said he was watching you practice the other morning, you know?" Pepper had told her over lunch yesterday. "And Issy said she thought he was staring at you in the Drill Hall yesterday."

"Maybe he's offended by my hair," Jane had replied, shrugging.

'Has he really been watching me?' She wondered to herself now.

"As you are all no doubt aware, I have some news," Theodore's voice cut through Jane's thoughts and her attention snapped back to the older man. "Unfortunately, Gwendoline will not be dancing with us as Giselle." He announced perfunctorily.

The hall quickly filled with dismayed cries of "Oh no!" and "Not the Queen!" before Theodore raised his hand for silence. He got it immediately.

"This means someone else must take on the role." His sharp eyes examined the room, where dozens of girls held their breath in anticipation. "We will be holding auditions next week. Those who wish to try out are encouraged to have a solo prepared, and you will also dance briefly with Gunther. This is a trying process for all involved so please consider carefully before applying. Thank you."

Jane couldn't help but admire his egalitarian approach to the situation. She knew he liked to offer the young dancers in his care as many opportunities as possible. A role like this could change the life of whoever was lucky enough to win it.

"Will you apply?" asked Pepper, slipping into the space beside Jane and making her jump as she whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe?" Jane replied as conversation in the room began to rise again. "I mean I'd love to, but . . . ." Her gaze shifted back to Gunther, wondering if she could work that closely with him.

His eyes met hers a second time, but before Jane could look away in mortification he turned to Theodore and said loudly enough for most of the room to hear "The redhead can dance. Audition her."

Jane swallowed as Theodore inclined his head in her direction, and most of the other dancers stared at her too.

"I guess that answers that," she mumbled to Pepper, who giggled beside her.

The Blackbird had spoken, and Giselle might very well have red hair.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I went to a performance by the Russian Imperial Ballet on their recent international tour and one of the male principals looked like Gunther, so that's basically where this whole thing came from. I'm hoping to do all of Janther week but it probably won't be done in a timely matter, since apparently that's not my style (shocking, I know!) I'm looking forward to seeing everyone else's works!