Swan Obsession

His power was slowly returning. In six years, he had slowly begun to amass the materials he needed to cast basic spells, and the first thing he did was to conjure the image of the kingdom he so desired. The vision he called forth flickered and showed the king, strong as ever, though there was more grey peppering his hair and beard. Hope shone brightly in his eyes. It then faded to show the young princess. She was a baby no longer. Her fine baby white hair was now a soft gold, though her cheeks were still the same rosy hue, and there was an impertinent expression upon her six year old face. The young girl was looking at something with distaste, though he was not sure of what. Rothbart could not help but admire the child's beauty, but she would be no more than a casualty when he took over the kingdom. Perhaps he would be merciful and spare her to be the apprentice to his assistant Bridget. Poor Bridget was getting so old she could barely see past her own wrinkled nose. He supposed that it would be better to have a half-blind assistant, than one that complained of the drafty black rooms, and rat infested cellars. Distracted, the vision disappeared abruptly, and Rothbart frowned, irritated at the weakness of his magic. He would bide his time however.

As the years progressed, Rothbart was able to conjure increasingly longer visions, and within that time he realized that the king was sending his young daughter to the neighbouring kingdom every summer in hopes that she and the young prince would marry. He could not allow this to pass. If the little Odette were to wed Derek, all hopes of claiming the kingdom he desired would be lost. Rothbart's eyes wandered back to the swirling smoke where the image of the blond princess rested. Her hair was tied into long braids that trailed over her sholders, and she wore the garb of a young squire. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. It was evident that the child was allowed far too much time in the sun. What was she now, 13? 14? The young princess had the figure of a lean boy, and Rothbart was disgusted at her father for letting her dress so unappealingly. He found her quite awkward, like a little ugly duckling, and yet, it was maddeningly difficult to peel his eyes away from her heart-shaped face and violet eyes. Almost as though she was aware of his thoughts, the princess seemed to shudder, and then close her eyes. Angry at himself, he forced his eyes away from the smoky image, and started to count the stones in the crumbling tower of his castle. With a rueful expression, he couldn't help but think that before long, there would not be very many stones to count at all. The cobwebs that hung off the shelves seem to sigh in wispy agreement.