Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started, as all disasters seemed to, as a rather nice day. It wasn't a particularly special one, just an average day for Prince Derek and Princess Odette. It had been six months since the sorcerer Clavius had been defeated. Things were peaceful. Queen Uberta had gotten over her kidnapping and nearly ruined birthday. Derek's over-protectiveness towards his mother had finally relaxed. The young royals stood in the the great hall of their castle, taking care of their day to day duties.

The attack came out of no where.

The doors slammed open and rebounded of the walls before smashing into them again as a powerful wind burst in. Banners were torn from the walls, hats were torn from heads. Cries went up as servants and courtiers alike were knocked off their feet.

Derek pushed Odette behind him and pulled her down into a crouch, arms raised to shield her before the unnatural gale.

His eyes narrowed, features hardening, as a streak of bright light shot into the room, demented cackling bouncing off the walls. It landed a few feet in front of them in a bright flash and coalesced into the form of a man with a long forked beard in a long black robe with a heavy cloak. The wind died down, seeming to flee under the strange man's cloak.

A sorcerer.

Derek's mouth twisted in distaste. He hated sorcerers.

“Oh ho ho! If it isn't the brave little prince who defeated not only Rothbart, but also Clavius!” The man grinned wide, fingers twitching in swooping gestures as he fixed Derek with a look that suggested madness. “Let me guess, you took advantage of their arrogance, didn't you? Rothbart never could comprehend that he could be bested. Mix that in with his victim complex and it made for some very interesting dinner conversations. I bet something blew up in ol' Clavius's face. Oh, that would have been a sight to see! I was always told him – 'Clavius,' I would say, “Clavius maybe put the orb containing unspeakable levels of power somewhere it won't roll off and kill us all!'” he cleared his throat, coughing as he recomposed himself. “But nooo! He was always like 'I am a wizard of the dark arts, not a incompetent klutz. Away with ye while I go mope over my rivalry with Rothbutt, ooga booga boo!' He was always talking like that, except for the ooga booga part.”

“Who are you?” Derek demanded. The babbling was a bit distracting but if he was a friend of Rothbart and Clavius, this man was most certainly a threat.

“OH! Where are my manners? I am Morgart, master of the dark arts.” the sorcerer introduced himself, grabbing the skirt of his long robes to sweep a deep curtsy. He straitened back up with a wide grin, shaking his hands as if working out some kinks. “Now then, since we have the plesentries out of the way, it's time for the fun part.” Bright red light flared into life around his hands as he held them up in front of him, grin turning dangerous. “Let's dance, pretty boy.” the light exploded from his hands.

Derek grabbed Odette and threw himself to the side. The section of the floor where they had been a moment before exploded as the red light hit it, leaving a crater in the middle of the great hall.

“Derek!” Brom shouted urgently, voice shaking with fear as he stood up from behind the table he'd been hiding under. “Catch!”

Derek shot to his feet and snatched the sword his friend had thrown to him out of the air. He gripped the hilt with both hands in front of him, turning to face Morgart with a glare.

“Oooh! A giant toothpick! I'm so scared!” the sorcerer yelped in faux terror, mockingly miming shaking in his boots. He pointed a finger at Derek with a smirk and a blast of powerful magic shot out.

The magic bolt struck the prince's sword and shattered it into pieces. Derek cried out as it then wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his side, and lifted him into the air. He was thrown aside with a contemptuous flick of spectral fingers. He hit one of the walls of the grand hall hard, letting out a sharp gasp at the impact, and crumpled to the floor in a boneless heap. He did not get up.

“Derek!” Odette cried out in horror, violet eyes wide and stricken. He . . . he couldn't be . . . No, he was only unconscious. She refused to believe otherwise. She spun back towards the sorcerer in fury, hand clenching into fists. “You'll pay for this!” she snarled at him.

The sorcerer threw his head back and laughed in her face. “No, my pretty little bird. I rather think you will.” The sorcerer raised his hands, fingers spread wide. Red light ignited from his finger tips, the air of the grand hall going still and hot and the shadows around him deepening.

Odette froze in horrified understanding.

Pretty bird . . . Oh no, not again.

Red light shot like from the sorcerer's hands and Odette's eyes widened, frozen in fear as it shot out towards her.

“NO!”

Light exploded through the throne room, a blinding flash of violent red and a crash like thunder shook the room.

Then it faded and everything went still. The sorcerer was gone. The princess lay in a heap where she had been standing moments before, unmoving.

“Odette!”

Puffin took to the air and glided over to the collapsed figure. He landed and patted urgently at the young woman's shoulder urgently. “Odette?” he questioned worriedly. “Odette? Please wake up!”

The young woman groaned and pushed herself up. Odette pressed a hand to her forehead. “Puffin?” she questioned anxiously and opened her eyes hesitantly. She blinked in surprise at the sight of her still very human hand braced on the marble floor. “I'm not a swan again?” she breathed, honestly not sure how to process this development. She wasn't a swan. All she had was a bad headache. It seemed she got turned into a swan every time some sorcerer decided to face off against Derek.

Derek . . .

The last thing she remembered was him jumping in the way of the blast and pushing her aside. Odette's violet eyes widened in horror. “Derek!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet in a panic and looking around frantically.

She froze, eyes fixing on one of the fallen banners. A wing lay amongst the torn cloth. A wing of white feathers . . .

It couldn't be . . .

Odette ran over to it and fell to her knees in shock. The air felt frozen in her lungs, horror filled her.

Puffin flew after her in concern. “Odette, what's wron – oh. Oh, dear.” the black and white bird landed, beak hanging open in stunned horror as he saw what Odette had found.

Speed came up behind him, Jean-Bob riding on his shell and matching expressions spread over their faces.

“Oh my.” the turtle breathed.

“Mon dieu.” the frog gasped.

A swan lay on the rumbled bits of cloth, unconscious with its wings flung wide. It had a streak of brown between its eyes, going from the base of the beak towards the top of the elegant head. The longest feathers on the wings were only brown. The beak was a slightly pinkish-tan.

Odette reached out with a slightly shaking hand to brush her fingers over the soft pure white feathers.

The swan groaned in response to the touch and it's eyes fluttered open to reveal familiar bright blue eyes.

“Odette?” Derek's voice came from the swan, dazed and concerned as he looked up at her. “What's wrong?”

It was Derek.

The swan was Derek.

Derek was a swan!

“Odette?” Derek questioned again, voice stronger now and growing ever more concerned by her continued silence. He tried to rise to his feet and cried out as he fell back over, throwing out his wings to catch himself. He froze, going still as a statue as he stared at his transformed limbs. Derek slowly held up one of the wings in front of him, turning it this way and that slowly, staring at it with wide blue eyes.

“Oh.”

The single syllable was jarringly free of any expected or quite warranted freaking out.

“'Oh'?” Jean-bob demanded, French accent thick with disbelief and raising panic, waving his hand it the air in frantic sharp gestures. “He goes avian and all he can say is 'Oh'?!”

Derek glanced at Jean-bob, long white neck curving to look in the frog's direction. “Well, it's not like we've never dealt with this before.” he said with a shrug. His beak twitched up in a smile, a sparkle of humor entered his blue eyes. “Though the shoe does seem to be on the other foot.” he said and shot Odette a fondly teasing look.

Odette did not smile back, not reassured in the slightest. “Derek, are you sure you're alright?” she pressed, violet eyes wide and worried. She knew better then anyone that, while turning into a swan didn't hurt, it wasn't exactly comfortable. At least in a physical sense. A sudden change in species was an emotionally wrought experience. A little bit of fear whispered in the back of her mind that Rothbart would have been particularly invested in not causing her undue pain in light of his whole marriage scheme.

The sorcerer who had just attacked them would have had no such compulsions. Had in fact seemed intent on making them suffer as much as possible.

Derek looked up at her with a reassuring smile, the expression familiar despite his transformation. “I'm fine.” he told her and pushed himself to his feet again. He nearly fell over again but was able to catch himself this time. “Though it seems I will have to get used to to this new body.” he gave her a strange look, chuckling soft. “You made it look easy.”

“You missed my awkward adjustment phase.” Odette informed him in a teasing tone. Learning to move about as a swan hadn't been easy, especially walking on flippers. Speed had helped with the swimming part though. There was plenty of people who could help Derek adjust. He'd get the hang of it.

“I suppose the first thing we need to do is find that sorcerer.” Derek said with a decisive nod, expression becoming determined.

The sound of chuckling drew their attention and they turned to see Brom approach, the man sporting a large mirthful grin. “What are you going to do when you find him, Derek? Peck him into changing you back?” he threw his head back in laughter. The sound broke off abruptly with a yelp of pain and Brom jumped with a startled expression.

Derek smirked, eyes still narrowed and neck straight as an arrow. He had just pecked his friend on the leg. “That isn't a half bad suggestion, Brom.” he said, tone half amused and half scolding with a definite cold look. The silent message in his eyes was clear.

I forgive you but don't talk like that again.

“Uh, yeah.” Brom chuckled nervously, rubbing at the spot on his leg Derek had pecked, and flashed his friend a wide anxious smile. “That's why you're the great hunter! You're . . . adaptable!”

Derek gave his head a fond shake at Brom trying to backtrack his faux pas with overblown compliments.

“Exactly!” Puffin exclaimed, curling one wing into an approximation of a fist and slamming down onto his palm. “And I am just the puffin to teach you!” his voice brightened as he leaped into the air. “You will be just as mighty a warrior in this form as your human one in no time, my newly feathered friend. Just leave it to old Puffin! Ha ho!” The bird laughed, the sound almost like an cheer. “That sorcerer won't know what hit 'em!”

Derek straightened, eyes bright with eager anticipation. “Sounds good!” he agreed, voice strong and bright. “Let's do it.” he spread his wings, flapping them quickly. He went up and nearly crashed back down, bobbing ungracefully in the air.

Puffin winced at bit at the sight. “Whooo boy. Looks like we need to start with the basics.” he flew up beside Derek, drawing himself up importantly and flicking his flicking the long feathers on his wings to get his attention. “Right, then, Flying one oh one, beginner's level. Follow my lead, you highness. Like this: Up down! Up down!”

Odette suspected she was the only one who saw the expression that flashed across Derek's face for a brief moment before he focused on listening to Puffin's directions. Her heart clenched, feeling deeply troubled as she watched him follow Puffin out of the castle.

“Hey, wait up!” Brom suddenly exclaimed, moving to hurry after them. “I'll help too!”

Odette's hand flew out and grabbed him by the elbow, causing the portly man to let out a startled yelp as he was momentarily thrown off balance. He turned to look at her with wide eyes.

“You need to keep an eye on him, Brom.” Odette told him in an urgent tone.

He blinked at her several times and then laughed. “On Derek?” he asked incredulously, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction the transformed prince had gone. “Don't worry about him, Odette.” he dismissed, removing her hand from his arm with care. “You heard him. He's fine.” Brom then turned and hurried out of the room.

Odette watched him go, biting her bottom lips. She knew Brom meant well but his words did the opposite of what he intended. Her unease only grew. She knew Derek had said he was fine but . . . he had lied to her in the past to keep her from worrying. He had hidden things from her for the same reason. If nothing else she knew Derek's pride must be suffering, feeling like a mortal wound inside him. He had also seemed to be having trouble adjusting to his new form, more then she remembered having when she was first transformed.

Odette feared this wasn't going to be so simple. But whatever happened, she would be there for Derek as he had always been there for her.

They would get through this together.