Once again, night had fallen, the moon reached its zenith, and you felt drawn to the lake once more. With small, swan-like, unsteady steps, you approached the edge and slowly immersed yourself in the water that chilled your skin or feathers. Suddenly, you were pulled sharply towards the middle of the lake, and you felt warmth and bitterness in your own heart and body. A magical light illuminated everything around you, enveloping your body like the divine visage of an angel. Your body slowly returned to its true form—the form of a young maiden, a princess, the daughter of King William. Rothbart's magic finally left you, and the swan likeness vanished.

"Well, my dear, will you accept my proposal?" Rothbart asked you ominously, crossing his arms. Beside him stood the old woman Bridget, Rothbart's servant, the former chancellor of your kingdom, giggling.

You frowned and turned away from the powerful sorcerer. You had no desire to speak with him or even look at him.

"Just imagine the guests, the feast, your luxurious gown at our wedding... Derek, watching with envy and jealousy as you become my woman," the red-haired man then said, and, entering the lake, he stood behind your back, slowly placing his hands on your shoulders.

"I will take the throne and become the king of your kingdom, as I should have if the king had not had an heir," Rothbart spoke slowly and seductively into your ear. Each of his words reflected envy and lust.

"And then you will bear me a little heir, a red-haired boy, who will take the throne after me," he then said, placing his thick, calloused hand on your stomach. You heard Bridget gasp and likely cover her face with her hands to avoid seeing this intimate scene between the captor and his captive.

"And after him, a daughter—she even already has a name, Odile. It's very beautiful, isn't it?" Rothbart whispered in your ear again, and his hands slowly moved up your dress. And just as his fingers almost reached your chest, you sharply struck the back of your head against his face and ran to the shore away from the lake.

The man merely chuckled, touching his nose. You saw how the blood quickly receded, and the slight crookedness disappeared; his nose was completely rid of the consequences of your blow.

"Now, now, now, my dear, I'm not what you think. I will wait until our wedding. Though, if you hit me again, I fear King William might gain a bastard," the sorcerer uttered the last word with a clear threat.