Swan Obsession

Notes: To watch the Swan Princess movie this is based off of: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-an0Z7xKgg&feature=related
I always hated Derek in this movie... he is so annoying... uugh. And even though I can't claim to love Rothbart, it always fascinated me that he was so obsessed with Odette... Anyway, enjoy and I'm sorry if there's any inconsistencies in my tale. It's my first one. Ps- if the spacing is poor, let me know and I'll try and figure out how to fix it.

He stood in the shadows of the creamy marble ballroom, paying no heed to the high arches, nor the tall magnificant glass windows draped in blue velvet that cast the sun's brilliant light upon the cradle that held the baby girl. The crowd of nobility that filled the room were like exotic birds in an aviary, their gowns brilliantly spread like peacock's feathers. Their voices were a hush murmur of awe and delight, as they watched guest upon guest bestow their gifts upon the newborn princess.

Odette. Who she was was inconsequential. It was the kingdom he desired. He watched in disgust as a young tow-headed prince peeked over the cradle's edge to hand the young babe a locket of gold. The crowd around him tittered in delight, speculating about the future of the boy and the baby. Even their parents shot one another a knowing glance. It was more than he could bear. Shaking his head, Rothbart pulled the black hood of his cloak over his disheveled red hair, and slipped out of the room.

His castle loomed, dark and forbidding, upon the mountain side, nothing more than a jagged siloutte against the pale moon, for it was midnight and the most powerful time for spell-casting. Forbidden Arts. Bah! Only ignorant fools, afraid of grasping the power that existed in the vast universe would misalign magic with such an absurd phrase. Still, he couldn't complain, for the more that people feared the Forbidden Arts, the more power there was for him to harness and claim.

He paced within the stone walls of his tower, where bottles of varying shapes and sizes lined every shelf, table, and alcove containing ingredients that the common man could not begin to fathom. The rafters in the ceiling were grey from the film of cobwebs that drifted like the rags of a ghost. Central to the room was a great hearth where most of his spells were wrought. Tonight was the night. Rothbart stopped his pacing and stood before the flames, his arms spread wide.

Before the fire, smoke of blue, green and red arose in explosive bursts, a flashy by-product of his spells that delighted his simple-minded assistant Bridget. From the curling tendrils of smoke, he shaped a coiling sphere that held the image of the king and his baby daughter. With a precise wave of his hands, the image disappeared, replaced by that of a ravenous red dragon; the dragon of Power. It was the beginning of a spell that would enable him to take the king's land by force, and Rothbart could only watch, mesmerized by the thick red smoke.

It had taken him months to prepare this particular spell. He grimaced at the memory of scaling deadly peaks, and wandering without food or water for days simply to gather a rare and mystical ingredient. After the grueling and dangerous task of finding the materials for his spell, he spent weeks on end, re-reading his spell books to memorize every minute detail of the spell's process. Preparing the ingredients so that they were in the proper state was no less exhausting, and only the most dedicated of mages had the patience to boil harpy's blood, which required at least half the cycle of a moon of constant stirring. Still, he felt it was worth it, and in a matter of minutes, the kingdom would be his. His dark eyes focused with deep intent upon the smoky visions.

Suddenly, there was a crash from behind as the thick oak doors were forced open. Knights of the king flooded the room, their swords swinging as they smashed bottles and turned tables aside. A shrill cry of surprise and dismay leapt from Bridget's throat, but she was helpless to do anything. Glass shattered, and an array of strange liquids oozed on the floor, filling the cracks in the stone. Strange noxious odors filled the room, but the knights paid no heed, destroying everything in their sight. It was an ambush! How had the king known of his plans? The red smoke dissipated and Rothbart looked about his surroundings in silent panic, unguarded and weakened by the past month's efforts of spell preparation. Rage filled him at the wanton destruction he witnessed. Some of the ingredients and potions that he witnessed being trampled underfoot were worth more than the king's ransom. Yet, the black hate that seethed within him could find no outlet for he was unarmed.

The Knights' swords and spears then turned on him, metal glistening threateningly as they reflected the light of the fire. Rothbart and Bridget could only back away, cornered. He snarled angrily, but there was no magic he could conjure to turn away the knights. All his energies had been used to try and claim the kingdom for himself, but his plans now fell into ruins. It was all lost. Before he could utter a single word, one of the knights struck the hilt of his sword against Rothbart's head, and after the flash of brilliant white that appeared before his eyes, darkness engulfed him.