I hope everyone had a great Christmas and New Years, I know I did. Sorry for the lack of updates, I will get around to uploading the next chapter of my other fan fiction as well. Lately my thoughts have been on my book and working out some of the kinks I'm having but I hope this chapter pleases you guys.

Moira watched the night approach as the sun began to set behind the stony walls of her inland lair, where the weeping willows sighed wistfully as a small breeze soared through. The grass was soft and welcoming enough for Moira to lay on, unashamed that she knew the swan that was the prince was watching.

There was a peacefulness of the place that she enjoyed. No animal feared to venture here and the small lake occupied an array of wildlife both above and below the surface. Above the surface was where the prince swam, though he could not venture far with the rope tied to his leg, which had also been tied to a rock.

If Moira's mother ever found such a place, she would surely destroy the tranquillity of it. She'd chant weeds from the ground and ask lightning to sear the poor weeping willows until they were nothing more than charcoal.

A turtle was slowly passing by Moira, a small thing, nothing more than a few months old. She picked it up and gently and carried it to the water, where she released it and watched it take refuge under the water.

Annoyed that the prince still watched her, she turned with her hands on her hips. "I thought you were well-educated in manners. Staring is considered a rude."

Something about him unnerved her, caused a flustering in her blood that she'd never felt before. If her mother saw the state of disarray Moira was in around a simple human, she'd be sneering and lecturing her to no end. Humans and witches were a disagreeable mix; each thought themselves better than the other and that was how it was to remain.

Now dark, Moira watched as the moon slowly made its appearance and she smiled gesturing to it. "Your highness, if you have any complaints I am willing to hear them now."

As the moonlight touched his white feathers, the swan glowed as water consumed his entire body and when it slowly sunk back down, the prince stood in the swans place, the water up to his knee's.

Shaken out of his transformation the prince bent down and untied himself from the rock. Moira expected him to stay in the water, away from her, that was her hope anyway. Perhaps with such a curse upon him, now he'd respect her power and learn to fear her like every other male she had met.

Instead he walked right up to her, so close that Moira was forced up against a tree. Derek placed his arms at both sides of her head and though he didn't look pleased, he didn't look furious. In fact, she thought she saw a glint of humour in his eye.

"S-step back," Moira stuttered and cursed her inability to simply push him away. "Or would you like another curse cast on you?"

"Very clever trick little witch," Derek said in a low tone. "Now tell me how to reverse it."

"You can't," Moira said indignantly. "You get to play the helpless damsel in distress while your lovely Rosalind scrambles helplessly to try to find you."

Deciding that he was to close for comfort, she ducked under his arms and lifted her arms high. "You may as well get use to your surroundings, you may be here a while."

Moira stood at the water's edge and looked down at her reflection. She kicked the water, wishing she'd brushed her hair that morning, for it looked like rats had made a nest in it. Most witches didn't brush their hair, some even chopped it off to shock any human they might pass by.

"The curse is simple your highness," Moira explained, pointing up to the moon. "While the moon is reflected on this lake, you change back into a human, but as soon as it leaves the lake, you change back to a swan. Simple really, oh but to take human form, you must be on the lake while the moons first light hits it otherwise you shall stay a swan."

Looking around, Moira turned to face the prince who was leaning against the tree watching her. His face remained stoic, which only inflamed her temper. Humans were such easy creatures to read, so why was he any different?

"This will be your home for the time being, you can leave if you so choose but you'll not get anywhere far with the few hours as you have as a human. And if I were you, I'd stay here, the woods is hardly a place for royalty to be wondering about."

"Yet you navigate it so well," Derek said flippantly. "Aren't you afraid someone might take advantage of you?"

"Of me? I am the direct descendant of Maleficent, no one with half a brain would dare lay a finger on me. You'd do well to remember that as well. You are a pawn in my game to bring Rosalind and the kingdom to ruin."

"So much hatred for someone so beautiful."

At the mention of her appearance, Moira felt her blood boil. Using her power to push him against the tree with invisible hands she strode up to him and snarled.

"Do not give me your false flattery and lies," she said. "It insults me and demeans you to a level unfit for a future king. I am a witch, I know that we do not have the angelic appearance of royalty but should you wish to keep your head, you'll refrain from mentioning my appearance again."

Rushing to the entrance she turned to the Derek, who had watched her storm away.

"Where are you going?" He asked, though whether he really cared for an answer, Moira didn't know.

Moira didn't answer as she walked past the poison ivy, into the empty forests. She'd never expected one human to be so infuriating; true, thinking of Rosalind made her blood boil but she'd never really communicated with the princess. Rosalind lived in a palace and Moira lived in a swamp, there was certainly a large difference in scenery alone.

The rising of the moon told Moira that many of the witches would be up and about, mixing potions, chanting spells or having the first meal of the day. Witches had a natural aversion to light, though Moira simply thought this was due to the witches habit of spending too much time in the darkness. She'd never had a problem with the daylight and preferred to sleep during the night to escape the chatter of the witches that droned on.

Moira had a sinking feeling that when she returned home, she'd be hearing a lot of droning from the witches, her mother in particular. Though powerful, Moira was isolated because of her strange habits that did not go unnoticed by any witch.

Though she had her secret hide out, that was all that seemed to remain a secret to her family. Some days she cursed their ability to read aura's, especially her great-aunt Petra, who always seemed to know exactly when and how guilty she was.

It was with great weariness that Moira slowly walked back to her home, ready to face whatever was awaiting her.