Chapter 1: Hear No Evil

The journal of King William II of Cymdros. March 21st, in the 30th year of his reign.

We should have been celebrating last night. The spring equinox has always been one of the grandest festivals in our kingdom, to throw off the gloom of winter. But the blight that began last summer shows no signs of abating. We survived the winter on our reserve food stores. We will not have enough for another winter if this famine continues.

It is a king's duty to lift his people's spirits, but even I could not stomach such a farce this year. Instead of feasting, we lit bonfires on all six islands of our kingdom at sunset. We held a vigil for those who did not live to see spring. We prayed.

I can sense our people's faith in me is failing. They have not forgiven me for destroying one-third of last year's harvest, though by all evidence it was cursed. The soils of Nefynmor are poisoned. The entire island is bleached, pale as the moon with black tears streaming from the trees.

My daughter Odette stood beside me at the bonfire vigil. She has been abroad most of the year, studying in Yoringard and Lincolnshire. I told her not to return for the equinox, but she came back just the same.

What legacy am I leaving for my daughter? Cymdros was meant to be a sanctuary for those looking to escape the dangers of magic. Is this my punishment, for trying to bring a glimmer of magic back? Am I to be the king who loses another island?

I cannot fall asleep. In my dreams I wade into the lake on Nefynmor, beside the ruins of the warlock's castle. I hear the trumpeting of swans and whispers from the cursed trees, like the peals of wind chimes.

Take me, I say. Let me join the others at the moonless lake beyond your curtain and leave my daughter alone.

The answer is always the same—a whisper, gentle and pitiless. No.

Our enemies are patient. They can wait years—lifetimes, even, hiding behind their veils of glamour and deception. I am afraid. My daughter knows it; I can only pray she does not know how afraid I am. The whispers mock me, and I fear their mockery has the ring of truth. I fear I am doomed to become what they call me.

King William the Last.

Chamberg, October. Four months after the Great Animal attack.

In the Chamber of Dignitaries, Derek tilted his head and tried his best to keep his face composed. On the opposite side of the table, the new ambassador from Yoringard was fuming.

"A total ban on trade! Forbidden from entering Cymdros' harbors, under pain of arrest and confiscation of our ships!" Ambassador Thoringol slammed his hand against the table so forcefully, a few drops of wine spilled out of the goblet to his right. Beside him, Derek heard his advisor Lord Rogers let out a soft snort of derision and wished he could have done the same.

"Cymdros is still mourning their king," Lord Rogers said dryly. "They're going through the worst famine in their kingdom's history, and your merchants tried selling them grain at four times the normal price. Of course they were offended."

"Meanwhile, Chamberg is practically giving them food for free," the ambassador replied.

"Yes, because we're allies," Derek said with forced patience. "That's what allies do during a crisis."

"Did you hear how the Council of Cymdros treated the captain at the negotiation table?" Ambassador Thoringol demanded. "They called him a petty thief and parasite. King William would never have used such language to a fellow noble."

"You're right," Derek conceded. "King William would have just thrown him out without a word. If he agreed to see him at all."

"I'm curious," Rogers said. "Was the parasite remark before or after they found the captain's son selling illegal candlewitch weed on the palace grounds?"

Ambassador Thoringol's face flushed. Clearly he'd hoped that rumor hadn't reached Chamberg's ears.

"Candlewitch is a medicinal herb. It's no more dangerous than wine," the ambassador argued. "The Cymdrosi are such a paranoid lot, they'll outlaw anything that even smells of magic."

"Yes, their fear of sorcery isn't a secret," Derek said. "And they have good reason."

"It was an idiotic move that made an already bad situation worse," Rogers said. "And now you're asking Chamberg to fix your kingdom's mess."

Derek glanced at Rogers with a frown, which they both knew was only for show. He and Rogers had a routine for meetings like these: Rogers would play the acerbic cynic so Derek could appear more reasonable by contrast. Derek turned back to the ambassador.

"What is it you would like Chamberg to do?" he asked.

"Use your influence with Cymdros to convince them to lift their ban! Your kingdoms have had close diplomatic relations for nearly twenty years. They're more trusting of Chamberg than any other nation," the ambassador said.

Derek shook his head.

"They were more trusting under King William's reign," he said. "Now that he's gone, most of the Council of Seven think he was moving too quickly. They won't reopen their harbors just because Chamberg asks them to."

"Then put them in their place!" Ambassador Thoringol demanded. "Withhold your aid! Show them the other kingdoms on the continent won't be insulted like this. Chamberg has other allies. You're under no obligation to Cymdros anymore. It's a disservice to your people to let yourselves be held back by a backwards island chain in the east."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Derek said after a long pause.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the ambassador said, looking down. "I spoke out of turn. I know you cared for the royal family." His fingers twitched slightly, and in the uncomfortable silence Derek allowed himself to study his face more closely. Ambassador Thoringol truly did look tired. And in all fairness, he hadn't created this mess. As with most foreign diplomats, his homeland's disgusting antics had simply fallen into his lap for him to clean up.

"I know you didn't mean it," Derek said. "You're under a lot of stress. It's not easy being the messenger. The Council of Seven are proud, but they can be appeased. Duke Ivarson is the head of your Ministry of Trade, isn't he?"

"He is, Your Majesty," the ambassador said.

"I've only met him once, but he seems like a reasonable man," Derek continued. "Have him give a formal apology to the Council in writing and offer to visit Cymdros to repeat it in person, along with a gift of good will. Chamberg can deliver the message while your ships are banned. With any luck, this entire thing will blow over in a month."

"And it's Highness, not Majesty," Derek added as he moved toward the door. The ambassador blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" he said. Out of the corner of his eye Derek saw Rogers shake his head, but he ignored it.

"It's Highness," Derek repeated. "I'm the prince, not the king. But in this matter, I assure you I speak on behalf of Her Majesty, the Queen."

He and Rogers walked in silence down the hall for a few moments, until they were both certain Ambassador Thoringol was out of earshot.

"That was an unnecessary correction, Your Highness," Roger said. "You're king in all but name. You don't need to weaken your argument over a title."

Derek shrugged. "I'd already won the argument. I could afford it."

"Still. When the ambassador sends his report back to his king, 'His Highness Crown Prince Derek' won't command nearly as much respect as 'His Majesty King Derek,'" Rogers pointed out. Derek knew his advisor was right. It would have been easy enough to let the ambassador's mistake stand uncorrected. But just now he didn't feel like explaining why he felt the urge to stand on principle for this of all things.

"What else have we got today, Rogers?" he asked.

"A celebration with the Royal Horticulturists. Apparently they've managed to grow an orchid that looks like a red-warted toad. Yes, we paid them for that. And two representatives from the University of Merduin arrived this afternoon to present another list of candidates for royal mage."

"Cymdros will love that," Derek said dryly. "The only reason King William's council was willing to entertain his idea to join our kingdoms was because Chamberg doesn't have a royal mage."

He heard Rogers let out an exasperated sigh behind him and realized Rogers had stopped walking. Derek turned.

"What?" he asked, a little exasperated himself. Rogers stood with his arms crossed, scowling—not an unusual posture for him, but unlike his normal sarcasm, just now he looked genuinely furious.

"Honestly, Derek, you need to stop caring what Cymdros thinks. You don't owe them a thing, and it's holding you back. Ambassador Boor-ingol at least had that much right."

"It was Odette's home, Rogers," he said. "The Council needs our help. We're not just going to let the other kingdoms pick them apart like vultures."

"The Council of Seven don't like us and they never will," Rogers said flatly. "It was King William they trusted. You can mourn him and Odette as long as you like, but you cannot let that cloud your judgment. Right now Chamberg needs you to be its king. For heaven's sake, you don't even agree with half their outdated views!"

"Enough, Rogers," Derek snapped. He stopped and rubbed his head. "I'm sorry. I know you're right about the Council, but that isn't the point. Their ruling family is gone. The least Chamberg can do is give them some diplomatic protection while they sort things out."

"Their ruling family is dead," Rogers said quietly. An uncharacteristic gentleness had entered his voice. "If you really don't believe that, why did you say Cymdros was Odette's home?"

Derek did not have an answer to that. After another few moments of silence, Rogers left him alone in the hall. Derek rested his arm against the wall and stared out the window at the courtyard outside. An array of ghostly purple lanterns and jack-o-lanterns grinned back at him, part of the palace's preparations for the All Hallow's Festival.

Four months. Four months since King William's death and Odette's disappearance, and this was what he had to show for it.

It was almost insulting how quickly Chamberg had moved past his botched proposal and mind-numbingly stupid "What else is there?" remark last June. Two weeks, maybe three, he'd had to hear the story repeated by local bards and palace servants? Though he supposed the death of a king and abduction of a princess at the hands of a mysterious beast would overshadow that.

But soon the city's bards had become torn between those who wanted to tell stories of a daring quest, and those who wanted a fresh romance for the palace's newly eligible bachelor. Bromley had even set up a chart in his room tracking current public opinion: red darts for hunting the Great Animal; blue for finding a new bride. The number of red darts was dwindling.

Meanwhile, the Isles of Cymdros had all but ignored any overtures Derek had made to offer condolences or organize a joint rescue effort. They could understandably blame him for the loss of both their king and their princess—the only heir to the throne. He'd heard stories about Cymdros' distrust of outsiders. King William had been pushing for a marriage and a merger of Cymdros and Chamberg almost since his daughter was born. But on one of Derek's more recent visits to their kingdom, he'd discovered a good half of King William's government wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the idea.

Worry about your own misfortune, Your Highness. Leave us to deal with ours. We thank you for your kind sympathies. Those had been the only words the Council of Seven had to offer him at King William's funeral, after Derek had returned the bodies of the late king and his captain to their homeland. Derek hadn't known what they meant at first, but within a few weeks it had become painfully clear.

A shadow of madness had descended on him, which prevented anyone with even a shred of relevant information from sharing it. There were times he could sense someone wanted to say something—in Cymdros, in the magical libraries at Merduin, even talking to King William's captain, Sir Josiah Langley, before he had died of his wounds from the Great Animal attack. He could see some vital truth fighting to escape in the frantic glances of their eyes or sharp twitches in their lips. But when they opened their mouths, an inevitable stream of nonsense poured out.

It explained why King William could utter only a cryptic, "It's not what it seems" at the scene of the attack. It brought a fresh bitterness to the king's death, knowing he was not even fully himself when he died. The king had spent his last breaths fighting a chokehold of insanity.

Derek later learned that a few people had tried so hard to give him a piece of useful intel, they had lain bedridden for days or weeks in a state of raving lunacy. After two and a half months, a representative from the University of Merduin had approached him and begged him to stop endangering the minds of their scholars with his questions.

But even that wasn't the worst of it. The curse had cast a shadow across his entire kingdom. Messengers from outside Chamberg suffered the same lockjaw if they tried to speak or write to anyone inside about the incident. Even Chamberg's diplomats in other kingdoms weren't immune. Reports of nonsensical messages and meetings were becoming disturbingly regular, as though simply being citizens of Chamberg had damned them.

Hear no evil. The mages of Merduin had given that name to Chamberg's curse, though it didn't seem to get them an inch closer to unraveling it. It made Derek wonder what other dangers his kingdom was now blind and deaf to.

That—that was why, after three months, Derek had finally forced himself to start paying more attention to his kingdom. It was the reason his days were now occupied with diplomatic administrivia and toad-shaped orchids. And it was the reason he could not let anyone, even by accident, call him Your Majesty. A ruler who had failed to prevent something like this was not a king, but a fraud.

The mages at Merduin were working on it, they promised, if His Royal Highness could just be patient for another month…or three. Meanwhile his mother, Rogers and Bromley had covered for him while trying to convince him that he was not to blame. They had been more supportive than he deserved, but Derek could tell they were tired—tired and scared. His people were tired and scared. There were whispers that if the prince would just let go of his futile search, perhaps that would be enough to break the spell and lift Chamberg out of its information prison.

His people were ready to move on, and they needed him to move on as well. A true king would have been able to make the sacrifice.

I'm not ready to let go, Derek thought. I'm not ready to move on.

Author's Note: Heya! If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading. This began as a random thought experiment—wondering about the culture and history of Odette's kingdom and wondering why King William couldn't just say before he died, "She's a bloody swan, Derek!" And then this bit of dark whimsy just…happened. I don't know what kind of reception this story will get, but I've been having a blast writing it. Since the focus is Odette's kingdom, there will be several flashbacks. I've tried to note them clearly and keep them mostly chronological, but please let me know if things get confusing.

Full disclosure: I haven't seen any of The Swan Princess sequels, though I have read summaries of a few. And while this story will tear up most of the canon plot-wise, I've tried to stay reasonably true to the characters and weave in a few elements from the ballet when they fit. I also couldn't find a name anywhere for William and Odette's kingdom. I read somewhere that it was modeled after Wales, so I used Welsh roots for its name (Cymdros, pronounced with a hard "c") and the names of its islands. I'm not going to change the name in this story, but if anyone knows of a canon name, please share! I'm curious!

The next chapter will give Derek a clue that gets him back on track and begin an extended flashback of his visit to Odette's kingdom two years earlier. Because as some members of this fandom have already pointed out, it was grossly unfair that we only saw Odette visiting Derek's kingdom and not the other way around. Hope you enjoy!

I own nothing belonging to Richard Rich or Nest Family Entertainment. Anything by Pyotr Tchaikovsky by now should be public domain.

-bethsaida