Layer 10: Having a Ball

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Copyright note: The lyrics to the song Holding Out For A Hero that appear in this layer are by Dean Pitchford and Jim Steinman. The song itself appears in the Shrek 2 soundtrack album.

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It was just under an hour until midnight when Fiona wandered back down to her bedroom. She found an armored guard standing just outside of it. He did not see her at first, and was leaning wearily against the doorframe. His visor was upturned, and his face reflected utter boredom. As she drew nearer he finally noticed her, suddenly sprang to full attention, and said, "Your Highness!" just before his jostling caused the visor to clamp down shut over his face with a clang.

"It's all right," Fiona said, sparing the man one of her now-rare smiles. "You can take it easy. I just need to get ready for the ball."

"Uh … yes, Your Highness," the man said, and assumed an only slightly more relaxed posture. Through his visor's eye-slit she could see him cast his eyes down, apparently embarrassed at having been caught off-guard.

Fiona wondered about that uncovered eye-slit.

"Are you a member of the security team?" she asked.

"Yes, Your Highness," he said.

"No dark glass?" she asked. The man looked somewhat confused, and Fiona waved a hand in front of her own eyes to indicate what she meant.

"Oh, no, Your Highness," he said. "We don't wear them at night. What with having to rely mostly on torches and candlelight –" here he nodded towards the nearest of the flickering torches that currently lit the hallway "– we find them … awkward. We tend to … well, bumble into each other."

"I see," Fiona said. "Well, could you please go down and tell the king that I should be ready in about half an hour, and that he can meet me here if he'd like?"

"But … I'm supposed to protect you," he said awkwardly. "With all the people in the castle for the ball tonight, we've tightened security."

"I see," Fiona said. How ironic, she thought. If the man only knew that the greatest danger to Fiona's life this night was not from the outside. "Well, I promise I'll be fine for the few minutes it'll take you to inform the king. Please."

"But …"

"Please. You can come back and resume your post here when you're done."

"Very well, Your Highness," he said, still reluctant, but then hurried off down the hall. Fiona watched him go, shook her head slightly, and then stepped into her room and shut the door behind her.

A fire was blazing in the fireplace and several candles had already been lit. Upon her freshly made bed she found the white sequined dress carefully laid out, thoroughly clean, and all damage repaired. In fact, everything about it and the room was spotless, sanitary and perfect. Or it would have been, if this were a cold museum. Personally, she missed the aura of lived-in hominess that greeted her as Shrek carried her over the threshold of their swamp home. Surprisingly she found she even missed Donkey's overenthusiastic but honest and heartfelt affection as he had greeted them upon their arrival.

Just then her ruminations were shattered by a bark. She looked down to see Puppy gazing up at her, its tongue lolling out and its tail wagging happily.

Fiona smiled. "Well, hello to you, too!" she said, leaning down and petting the little canine. Its demonstration of real, unconditional affection helped lighten her spirits somewhat.

She stood back up and turned again to the dress. She sighed, and then began to disrobe. A while later she was wearing the white gown and pearl necklace and was sitting in front of her mirrored vanity. She had pinned a silver tiara in place and was just finishing the last touches of some light makeup when there was a soft tapping at her door. "Fiona?" she heard her father's voice call from the other side.

"Coming, Dad," Fiona called. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, made sure everything was in place, and then got up and walked over to the door. She opened it to find her father standing there. He had replaced the stained felt tunic with regal military attire, featuring a long fur-lined cape and shiny ornamented armor breastplate. On some men – such as her remade husband – the accouterment might have looked dashing, but on her father's frame it reminded Fiona more of a turtle shell. Aloud, however, she said, "You look very impressive tonight," and offered as large a smile as she could muster.

Harold, however, appeared stunned for several moments as he looked his daughter up and down. Eventually he stammered, "You … you look beautiful!"

"Thank you," she said self-consciously, blushing as he continued staring at her.

Harold suddenly shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that … in that dress, you remind me so much of your mother. The first ball we attended together … the gown she wore was similar, and … well, it's almost like looking back decades into the past. You look almost as beautiful as she did back then …" Harold's eyes suddenly grew wide. "Oh!" he said, realizing the 'almost' might be taken as a slight. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean –"

"That's okay, Dad," Fiona laughed. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not a 'Mirror, Mirror' type of girl."

"Indeed," Harold conceded. "Still, I think that 'beauty divine' still applies quite nicely."

"Thank you," Fiona said again.

"Yes, well," Harold said, then cleared his throat, stepped back, and offered his right arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

Fiona smiled again, nodded, and took his arm. As they stepped out into the hallway they heard the 'clank' of metal as the knight who had retrieved Harold came to attention behind them. Father and daughter both rolled their eyes and began walking down the hall, the knight following behind. As they did so, Harold chuckled.

"What is it, Dad?" Fiona asked.

"It seems that your husband and I have another point of agreement after all," he said wistfully.

"What's that?"

"About where you get your good looks from," he said, glancing over at her briefly and flashing a brief, wan smile. "You really do look so much like your mother when she was your age.

Fiona smiled as well, but it was as brief and wan as her father's. "I just wish you could have learned more about Shrek. I mean, before the potion … changed everything."

"Yes, so do I," Harold agreed, his voice tired. "To have won your heart, he must have been quite a fellow. I'm sorry, Fiona. There are many things I'm sorry for. I just pray that I might have the chance to do something to make it up to you. To you both." Then, under his breath, he mumbled, "But I fear I'll never get such a chance."

"We just wanted your blessing," Fiona said, sounding more plaintive than she'd intended. "No," she corrected herself after a moment's reflection. "I wanted your blessing. Shrek, he … he just wanted me."

"Well," Harold said, "I can't say I blame him. You're a blessing enough for any man."

Fiona forced a brief, appreciative smile, and choked back the rebuttal that immediately came to her mind: No, Dad. I'm not a blessing. I'm a CURSE.

Father and daughter lapsed into silence, and their walk to the ballroom resembled more the gait of the condemned plodding to the gallows rather than that of luminaries traipsing towards a royal party.

Still, they walked on, and Fiona soon picked up the sound of distant music. It grew louder, and the large door that led to the open inner courtyard that was being used as an outdoor ballroom soon came into view. The sound of the music was now mixed with the dull indistinct communal murmur of hundreds of conversations. Fiona felt queasiness in her stomach and had to fight back an urge to turn and bolt away.

They paused just before the door and the knight behind them moved forward to open it for them. As he did so, Harold sighed and muttered, "Well … this is it."

Fiona nearly laughed at the irony despite herself, but fought it back. All thoughts of laughter died as the knight pulled open the door. The music and the murmuring grew briefly louder, and Fiona looked through the doorway into the ballroom. There were indeed hundreds of finely dressed guests milling about the spatial dance floor and side seating areas. The large stage was brightly lit; upon it sat a piano at which the Fairy Godmother's chauffeur Kyle sat, playing a tune while the Godmother herself was singing a song. Just behind the stage area was a large painted mural of a beautiful outdoor meadow featuring a gazebo sitting beneath a lovely, sparely-clouded blue sky where a pair of cherubim hovered.

Off to the side, in a position of honor, sat two thrones. On one of these sat Queen Lillian. She was looking up at Harold and Fiona, apparently having noticed the door open. A moment later the Fairy Godmother also saw them and stopped her song. The many guests had also noticed the door open or had noticed the Godmother end her song and followed her gaze. Soon Fiona found all eyes staring up at her and her father. She gulped audibly.

"It's all right, darling," Harold whispered, reaching over and patting his daughter's hand. "Don't let all these ceremonial trappings intimidate you. Those people … they're just here to share your joy. They all wish you the best."

Fiona looked at her father and smiled appreciatively. He smiled back, and then looked forward. His smile suddenly faded. She followed his gaze and saw Shrek; he had stepped forward and was standing half-way up the multi-tiered stairway that led from the doorway to the ballroom floor. He was smiling that smug smile again that Fiona was learning to hate despite herself.

"Well … let's go," Harold said in a tone that had not only lost the comfort that he had extended to Fiona, but which tempted Fiona to wish to comfort him somehow. But there was no time for that. Harold began moving forward, and Fiona stepped with him. The knight that had opened the door for them closed the door behind them and then took his place at one side of it, matching a fellow knight who was set near its other side.

King and Princess moved down the stairway in measured steps, eyes set forward, while Kyle played a few notes at the piano. As she approached Shrek, Fiona saw that her husband's face not only held a smug smile, but there was something else about his expression, something odd, a knowing little look as if he was withholding a secret. Fiona tried to tell herself it was her own nerves making her think this, but it unnerved her nevertheless.

As they drew near, Shrek he held out his left arm. Fiona reluctantly released her father's right arm and took the one Shrek proffered. As she did so, the King looked up at his son-in-law with reticent eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. Once Fiona had released Harold's arm the King turned and strode down towards his throne with heavy steps. Fiona followed him with her eyes, concerned about his apparent distress. But even as she did so, the loudspeaker boomed above her, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PRESENTING PRINCESS FIONA AND HER NEW HUSBAND, PRINCE SHREK!"

The ballroom filled with applause. Fiona saw her mother joining it, looking up at her daughter with a sympathetic, hopeful expression.

Shrek began leading them down the rest of the stairway, waving broadly, blowing occasional kisses, and every so often winking and pointing at someone. If possible, he was acting even more egotistically than when she had seen him on the runway. She held on to his arm, but she was beginning to feel more like an attendant than a partner. "Shrek," she whispered irritably, leaning towards him, "what are you doing?"

"Just … playing the part, Fiona," he said, totally unconvincing. She looked up at him, trying once more to read something – anything – that might remind her of her husband. She failed. In fact, she even noticed something that had quite the opposite effect, something that caused her to stop in her tracks.

"Is that … glitter on your lips!" she gasped.

"Mmm. Cherry flavored," he confirmed, unabashed. His accentuated lips then curled into another self-assured smile as he leaned towards her and asked, "Want a taste?"

"UGH!" Fiona said, frustration boiling over as she pulled her arm away and stepped back. "What is with you!" But the question was rhetorical. Without awaiting an answer from the stunned prince, Fiona began plodding back up the steps. There was no point to this. There was no point to anything anymore.

"But muffin cake …" she heard him implore behind her. She didn't look back. Let him have the stage to himself, she thought. There were other attractive, unattached women out there. Women that could appreciate his new, handsome, shallow self. He didn't need her anymore. No one needed her. She was a fool to come down here. All she had managed to do was cause everyone greater embarrassment. Idiot. It was time to return to the tower room and finish what she had started earlier.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Fiona heard the Fairy Godmother announce from the stage behind her. Good, Fiona thought. The Godmother was drawing attention back to herself and away from the retreating princess. "I'd like to dedicate this song to …" the Godmother continued as Fiona neared the top of the stairs. The princess was not really interested in the dedication. Her mind was set to contemplating the oblivion that yawned before her. "… Princess Fiona and Prince Shrek!" the Godmother concluded.

Fiona suddenly found herself bathed in spotlights. She froze instinctively. Then … slowly … she looked back. Kyle, his eyes closed, played his hands adroitly across the piano's keyboard, rendering the first slow, melodic notes of a song. Shrek, who had followed Fiona partway up the stairs, now held out one hand to her. "Fiona, my princess," he said smoothly with a smile less cocky than the one he had earlier, "would you honor me with a dance?"

Fiona hesitated. Meanwhile, the Fairy Godmother – who was suddenly wearing a dress made of gaudy sparkling scarlet sequins – held her wand to her mouth as a microphone and began singing the first slow, measured lyrics of the song Kyle was playing.

Where have all the good men gone and … where are all the gods?

The crowd – who Fiona was just able to make out in the shadows – began chanting "Dance! Dance!" and clapping their hands in cadence. Fiona felt every eye piercing her. She looked down at the many chanting guests, so giddy with the festiveness of the evening. She looked at her parents, who stared back at her, her mother with a concerned, questioning expression, her father still with an enigmatic pall of foreboding about him. She looked at Shrek, his hand still outstretched. His smile deepened and he nodded his head back towards the dance floor, accentuating his invitation.

Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

Fiona felt torn. Part of her wanted to dash out of the ballroom and back up the stairs, to fling herself out of the tower window and end it all, as she had intended when she turned from Shrek earlier. But there was still a part of her that resisted. Still a part that refused to concede that her chance for happiness was irredeemable, and had taken advantage of Fiona's hesitation here to again plead its case. Where there is life, there is hope, Fiona, it insisted yet again. Don't give up that hope! Before coming back here, you'd learned to be a fighter. So FIGHT!

Fiona tentatively reached down and took Shrek's hand. He clasped it and swept her down the stairs. All the people who had been chanting now broke into applause. The guests cleared space for the couple on the dance floor as now both royals shared the spotlights that had been focused on Fiona alone. They took a formal dancing position. Fiona had assumed she would have to help Shrek; they had danced before, but it had always been informal, and to her knowledge he had had no training. How could he? But now, instead of the awkwardness Fiona expected, he demonstrating a grace, polish, and technical skill that surprised her as he led her across the floor to the slow, melodic music.

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

"Since when do you dance?" Fiona asked Shrek.

"Fiona, my dearest," he said with his smooth, suave voice, "if there's one thing I know, it's that love is full of surprises."

Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need … The Godmother, now quite caught up in the song and writhing on the piano, sang. Then, suddenly, she sat up and yelled, "Hit it!" The pleasant meadow background suddenly peeled away, revealing a more elaborate, sensational background design, a band, and a chorus of singers dressing in tight, shiny sparkling silver outfits. The music's cadence immediately sped up, the orchestra musicians joined in, and the chorus raised its voices to a crescendo. The Godmother sprang from the piano and landed deftly on the middle of the stage where she continued the song, whose rhythms now pounded throughout the ballroom.

I need a hero!

I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night …

And he's gotta be brave
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight …

As the music had changed, so had Shrek's dancing style. Fiona now found Shrek leading her about with a boldness that bordered on aggression. She tried to keep up with him, but found herself being dipped and flung and spun in movements that left her dizzy. She felt like Shrek was a matador and herself his cape.

While she tried to keep up with Shrek's frantic pace, Fiona caught whatever respites she could to catch her breath and regain her balance. During one brief pause, she noticed the doors through which she and her father entered open and a knight dashed in, uttered a command to the two guards on either side of the doorway, and then the three of them clasped a hand to their sword hilts and hurried out through the doorway, shutting it behind them.

Something was happening.

Fiona didn't have time to dwell on what that might be, however. Suddenly Shrek had taken her again, fixed her with that self-assured glare, and started the next dance step. It ended with him slinging her into a little spin. As Fiona recovered her balance she saw him slip a rose between his teeth. Clapping his hands Flamenco-style, he approached her yet again while the Fairy Godmother began another verse.

Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me …

Feeling overwhelmed, Fiona tried to back away. But Shrek was quick and certain, and she found herself again being led – almost dragged – across the dance floor, trying desperately to keep up. She thought she now knew what a mop felt like in the hands of a competent and over-enthusiastic housemaid.

Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach like the fire in my blood …

After leading Fiona a few times more across the floor, Shrek spat the rose out and dipped her down so she was suspended in his arms. Fiona found herself looking up at him as she tried to catch her breath. He paused to stare back down at her with that ultra-confident, forceful gaze. He seemed to be regarding her not so much as his partner, or his wife, or even a fellow human being, but more like a collector would admire an especially valuable trophy. He then leaned forward, pursing his lips and closing his eyes, inviting – no, demanding a kiss. Fiona felt overwhelmed and a bit frightened. She instinctively wanted to draw back, but suspended in Shrek's embrace as she was there was no room for that. Then she remembered the discarded rose. Impulsively she snatched the flower from the floor and thrust it between her own teeth a split second before his lips met hers. He drew back and looked down at her, irritation – and perhaps a bit of anger – reflected in his features at having his 'romantic' moment spoiled. Fiona, teeth still clutching the rose, blinked up at him twice in rapid succession, hoping that the ostensibly playful gesture would mask the nervousness and trepidation that coursed through her tiring body. Shrek stared down at her a moment longer, and then with an expression that seemed equal parts grin and smirk, pulled her back to her feet and, without missing a beat, led her into the next step … and the next …

I need a hero!

I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light …

And he's gotta be sure
And he's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life …

Ragged … as ragged as a Raggedy Ann doll … Fiona prayed for the end of the dance. At some time during the dips and twirls the rose fell from her mouth, but by then she was too tired to care. Finally, as the Godmother began the song's last, crowning verse, Shrek threw Fiona into a last dizzying spin. She circled twice within a split second and lost her balance, but then just before she fell supine to the floor she found herself once again suspended in Shrek's arms, and once again their faces were just inches apart.

Well he's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight …

Shrek smiled charmingly as he loomed above Fiona. Again there was no retreat as she lay back in his arms, and this time no rose or other prop to divert his attention. Shrek again leaned forward, again, pursing his lips. Haggard and exhausted, tired of resisting where resistance seemed both futile and almost juvenile, Fiona decided to give in. What difference did it make? It was just a kiss, after all. Shrek leaned closer. Fiona tried to ignore the saccharine-sweet odor of his breath spray as she prepared to return his kiss in kind.

I need a hero!

Suddenly the doors to the ballroom – the ones past which Fiona and her father had entered – burst open. Then a strong, commanding male voice echoed throughout the courtyard: "STOP!"

Whoever it was, he got what he'd demanded. Shrek, whose lips were nearly touching Fiona's, looked back to see what was going on. A look of fear drifted across his features, which surprised the princess. Irritation or anger from her husband for such an interruption she could understand, but fear?

In any event, he was cognizant enough to help Fiona back to a standing position as he rose to face the party-crasher. All other eyes also turned to the figure at the top of the stairway. The intruder was riding a white stallion that rose and whinnied. The horse then dropped to all fours and began galloping down the stairway. It was then that Fiona recognized the rider, and her mouth fell open.

It was the dark-haired stranger.

A moment later she realized it wasn't just a white stallion he was riding.

It was Donkey.

But the most breathtaking surprise occurred as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, you!" the stranger, deftly leaping from Donkey's back, called to Shrek. The stranger then took several menacing strides towards the prince, pointed at him, and growled, "Back away from my wife."

The stranger could speak! But far beyond just speaking, his voice … his voice was that of …

But it couldn't be …

Yet it was …

And his face – that expression – the firm, challenging jaw, the surly set of his eyes as he confronted the man at Fiona's side …

At his wife's side …

It was!

Fiona's eyes bulged with recognition. She felt her heart leap even as her brain struggled to get a grip on it all … that the dark-haired stranger really was …

"Shrek!" Fiona gasped, and then began stepping away from the blond … imposter, she now realized … and towards her true husband.

But before she could go very far, the Fairy Godmother intervened. She darted in the midst of the trio and then flitted upward. Her face, ablaze with a seething anger that Fiona hadn't imagined her capable of, threatened to turn as red as her dress as she glared down at the true Shrek.

"You couldn't just go back to your swamp and leave well enough alone," she spat, gesturing with a wand whose tip now glowed bright white. Fiona stared up at her, surprised at the ominous creature that had burst through the Godmother's kindly, friendly façade.

Shrek, however, had apparently anticipated her reaction. "NOW!" he cried towards the stage behind the Godmother. Fiona followed his gaze and saw the three little pigs standing there, two holding either end of a blanket.

"Pigs und blanket!" all three cried, and one pig leapt against the middle of the blanket just before the other two snapped it taught, propelling the pig at the hovering Godmother. She turned just as the pig reached her; he struck low, caught one of her ankles, and clung there.

Infuriated, the Godmother kicked at the pig with her free foot. He obviously wouldn't be able to hold on very long. Fiona turned back to Shrek, but he had his sights set on the distracted Godmother while above his head he was twirling a certain familiar wooden puppet by his strings like a lariat, or like David swinging his sling just before launching its missile at Goliath.

"Pinocchio, get the wand!" Shrek said as he released the strings.

Pinocchio, voicing his own version of a battle-cry, flew towards the Godmother. He clutched for the wand as he neared her, but she recovered from the pig's distraction just in time to notice him and pull the wand away from the puppet's grasping hands. As Pinocchio flew over and past her head, she pointed the wand at him and zapped him with a bolt from it. He was briefly covered with shimmering light which quickly transformed into a burst of bubbles that revealed not a puppet but a human child. "I'm a real boy!" Pinocchio cried happily as he toppled to the stage. He immediately bounced back to his feet and started dancing a gleeful jig, his personal joy making him oblivious to surrounding events.

With a strong kick the Fairy Godmother finally rid herself of the pig, sending it flying through a nearby open second-floor window. Unencumbered and enraged, she turned again to face Shrek, drawing her wand back in apparent preparation for a blast. Fiona was about to scream when suddenly the Big Bad Wolf, still dressed in Red Riding Hood's grandmother's nightgown and cap, sprang beside Shrek and blew a great, long puff of breath up at the hovering Godmother. She lost both her concentration and steadiness as she began tumbling backwards in the turbulence. As she struggled to regain control, she dropped the wand.

It was caught by one of the remaining pigs. The Godmother regained control of her flight and dove at him, her face distorted with rage. The pig scampered across the stage and slid under the piano, but the airborne fairy was closing in quickly. Suddenly Donkey galloped from around the stage.

"Catch!" the pig cried, and hurled the wand at the charging equine. But the Godmother altered her flight path with relative ease, and even as Donkey caught the wand in mid-stride with his mouth, she was bearing down on him as well.

"Donkey!" another shrill voice yelled, and Fiona saw the Gingerbread Man standing on another part of the dance floor – all the party guests seemed to have abandoned it to gawk as spectators from the sidelines. Donkey flipped the wand to the waiting Gingerbread Man. 'Gingy' grabbed its handle – which was twice as long as he was tall – and had just gotten control of it when the Godmother came swooping in. He dipped it just out of her reach as she zoomed by, overshooting him. Gingy then suddenly spun in a circle – whether intentional or not, Fiona couldn't tell – and then the wand flew out of his hands and across the stage. Its flight path took it tantalizingly close to Fiona and the blond imposter, who Fiona deduced was in league with the Godmother, whatever that relationship might be. Now he rushed over to try and intercept the wand's flight. But Fiona was a step nearer, and as he stretched for the wand she launched herself at him in a cross-body block. They impacted; the imposter uttered a little yelp as the wind was knocked out of him and the wand past just beyond reach of his fingertips. Fiona ignored the brief pain of the impact, and even had a little grin on her face as they both tumbled to the floor. Meanwhile, the wand continued on its flight path. It bounced off of one of the three blind mice and clattered to the dance floor, discharging a bolt that struck Pinocchio, who was still dancing his gleeful jig. Unfortunately, the bolt changed the boy back to his puppet self. "Ooooh," he moaned, and looked dejectedly downward. His jig was up.

Fiona got back to her feet, hoping to be of some further assistance, when she saw both Shrek and the Godmother diving for the wand.

"That's mine! That's mine!" the Godmother cried, grabbing the wand first and, for a brief moment, clasping it in her hands. But Shrek swiped it away with a desperate lunge. The wand again went flying through the air.

Once more Donkey galloped after the wand, but its flight took it too high for him to reach. He didn't have to, however, for again on his back rode that curiously booted cat, Puss. Using Donkey's neck as a springboard, he leaped into the air and grabbed the enchanted stick.

Donkey looked back at everybody with a big toothy grin. "Pray for mercy from Puss –" he said as the cat landed on his back.

"And Donkey!" Puss added, brandishing the wand triumphantly.

Fiona wondered what the Godmother would do now. Would she attempt to seize the wand from the cat? Or would that be too dangerous: could even a complete amateur – assuming that Puss was an amateur – wield the instrument well enough to do her damage if she tried? Or would she, with the sky open to her now, choose to make good an escape before she could be arrested? Indeed, Fiona noticed a few of the security force stumbling back into the courtyard, apparently dazed. Exactly what had transpired out there during the rescue, anyway?

The princess's musings were cut short, however, when the Godmother did the totally unexpected; she turned from where she was staring at Puss and Donkey – and stared at her. "She's taken the potion!" the Godmother said with urgency and desperation. "Kiss her NOW!"

Fiona stared in bewilderment at the villainess. Potion? Another potion? But she hadn't taken any –

Suddenly Fiona was whirled violently aside, and found herself staring again at the blond imposter. Before she could react, he forced his foul, cherry-flavored lips against hers in a kiss.

"NOOOO!" Fiona heard Shrek from a few yards away. It was the wretched sound of a soul condemned.

Then Fiona realized what the Godmother must have been referring to. The potion … it must have been … in the tea! The tea her father had given her. The tea her father – who was acting so strangely – had given her. Fiona's heart sank. Her father … had betrayed her. Her father was in league with this evil Godmother and this sociopathic narcissus. Shrek had apparently known this, and he had, along with so many of their 'freakish' fairytale friends, risked all to prevent this kiss. But they had failed. The Godmother's plotting and the king's treachery would be rewarded. All was lost. Fiona closed her eyes. Now she wished she had done herself in when she had the chance. Better that, she thought, than what she was about to become – the star-struck, doting adjunct to this self-absorbed wanna-be tyrant-in-waiting.

The kiss completed and the damage done, the imposter pulled back. Fiona opened her eyes to see him staring at her, anticipation plastered on his face. She waited, resigned. She waited for the tendrils of the potion's magic to claw their way into her heart and her mind, to reshape her to this dandy's will and fancy. She waited for her emotions to be torn apart and re-sown into a pattern that pleased the potion-maker. She waited.

But nothing happened.

She remained herself.

Slowly it dawned on the princess – the potion hadn't worked!

The imposter, however, apparently didn't notice. He reached over, caressed her cheek, and smiled that little lopsided smile. The smile was a bit tentative this time, as if he was waiting for reassurance from her, some sort of sign confirming how she felt about him.

Well, Fiona decided, if it was a sign he wanted, she would give him one.

She smiled sweetly at him – the best acting job she had done in her life – and reached up with her hands and caressed both of his cheeks. He smiled again and raised an eyebrow as Fiona used the caress to center her aim. Then she cried "HI-YAH!" and threw her head forward, impacting his right where she wanted. The crowd of the ballroom, which had lapsed into silence when the imposter had kissed her, now let out a collective gasp at the blow. The imposter continued standing, teetering, for a few moments, then his eyes rolled upward and he collapsed to the floor. Fiona followed his toppling form with a curt, self-satisfied nod. Sweet Heaven, that had felt good!

What felt even better was that with the imposter's obnoxious form below her line of sight, she now found herself beholding her True Love. He was on his knees, a posture he'd apparently dropped to when he thought he'd lost her. Now, his face was awash with relief as he, too, realized that the potion had failed. He smiled and quickly got to his feet, then moved towards her as she did to him, the two drawn together as if by a force that neither could resist nor wished to.

"Fiona," he said, his voice soft and tender, as if afraid that the moment was fragile, like fine porcelain, and to jar it would risk breaking.

"Shrek," she returned, her voice equally tender. He looked so different now. So very different. Her handsome, dark-haired stranger. But his voice, the expressions of his face, the way he moved – yes, this was her True Love. He would always be her True Love. Handsome or ugly, fat or thin, for richer or poorer, in sickness or health, until death do they part. And she had nearly chosen death. How utterly stupid that would have been. Where there was life, there was hope. She could almost hear her rational mind say I told you so. But her rational mind was not paramount right then. Not at this moment, and not with Shrek so near. They reached for each other –

"Harold!" the Godmother sputtered, sounding both angry and confused. Then she darted past Shrek and Fiona and on towards the king, who stood a few yards away. "You were supposed to give her the potion!" she said accusingly as she hovered before him.

"Well," Harold replied, his tone one of obviously feigned remorse, "I guess I gave her the wrong tea."

Harold stared at the Fairy Godmother, a confident grin on his face. Fiona noticed that he seemed to be standing straighter, with more pride, than she had seen him do before. Facing down the aghast Godmother, he looked truly kingly at last.

Fiona remembered the tea. The cup he had snatched from her at the last moment. The odd pink smoke that arose when he had smashed it. All done intentionally, she now realized. And all for her. And what he had risked in defying the Godmother – Fiona hated to think what the Godmother would do if she still had her wand –

"Mummy!" Fiona heard the imposter call from behind her.

"Mummy?" Fiona repeated, confused, turning to Shrek.

Too late did she notice the wand flying over their heads – and into the Godmother's waiting hand.

The Godmother stared at the wand for a moment, an evil glee seeming to radiate from her eyes and a growl of joy emerging from her throat. Then she turned to Shrek and Fiona. She rose skyward and transfixed that evil glare upon the newlyweds. She smiled a smile that was not a smile, but a snarl barely restrained. Terrified, Fiona clutched at Shrek. He pulled her close, protectively, as they both stared up at the Godmother.

"I told you ogres don't live happily ever after!" the Godmother spat, vitriol dripping from each word. She then pulled back her wand, almost theatrically, as she took aim at the lovers.

Fiona took some solace in the knowledge that whatever happened to her and Shrek, they would at least be together. However, as the Godmother threw her wand hand forward, Shrek shoved Fiona aside with all his strength. Fiona lost her footing and fell to the floor, out of harm's way. She looked back to see Shrek glowering defiantly up at the Fairy Godmother, ready to absorb alone the blast that had been meant for the both of them.

"SHREK!" Fiona screamed, futilely reaching back for him as a bolt of energy leapt from the Godmother's wand and streaked towards her husband.

"NOOOO!" came another cry, this one from Fiona's father. Harold rushed into Fiona's field of vision and threw himself in front of Shrek, taking the blast that was aimed at the former ogre. There was a blinding flash at impact, and Fiona had to turn her eyes away. She heard the clatter of metal as her father landed on the floor – or rather, her father's body, she thought sickly. But a moment later she heard another impact, this one in the sky as the Fairy Godmother uttered an odd little scream of her own. Fiona looked up to see the Godmother tumbling backwards through the air. After travelling several yards, she regained control. She took a moment to look herself over, a worried expression on her face. But apparently satisfied that all was in place, she glared down at Shrek again and once more pulled her wand back.

Then she suddenly exploded into a cascade of bubbles. All, that was, but her wand and glasses. They fell and clattered onto the floor below, one of the glasses' lenses breaking and the wand's star tip fading out as on the floor all about them the Godmother's bubbles burst.

Fiona looked to where her father had fallen. There was nothing left of him but his clothes and scorched breastplate. The smell of ozone permeated the air. The princess struggled to her feet, her eyes fixed on the remains. She looked over at Shrek; he looked back helplessly, not knowing what to do or say. Fiona then ran over to and knelt by the remains. "Oh, Dad!" she moaned, laying her arms upon the still-warm armor breastplate and then dropping her head onto them and sobbing. A moment later she felt Shrek gently touch her shoulder. He had knelt beside her. She let go of the breastplate and instead fell into Shrek's arms. She cried on his shoulder while he embraced her consolingly.

Then she heard a croak. It was followed by the sound of two little hands pattering against the breastplate. Fiona looked down.

She stopped crying.

She blinked.

A large frog, green with brown splotches, sporting a tuft of hair under its chin, a small crown on its head, and bearing her father's expressive brown eyes, was pulling itself atop the breastplate.

"Harold?" Lillian asked. She, like Fiona, had knelt beside the king's remains.

"Dad?" Fiona echoed her mother's surprise.

The frog sighed, and then spoke in Harold's voice. "I hoped you'd never see me like this," he said with great embarrassment as he cast his eyes down and away.

"Hey!" Donkey said, his voice chiding, as he looked at Shrek. "And he gave you a hard time!"

"Donkey!" Shrek rebuked his friend.

The king, however, waved Shrek's defense off with a webbed hand. "No, no, he's right, I'm sorry," Harold said with true remorse. Then he repositioned himself so that he faced Shrek and Fiona together. "To both of you," he continued. "I only wanted what was best for Fiona …" He paused, sighed, and then looking alternately between the two of them, continued, "But I can see now that she already has it."

Fiona looked over at Shrek and smiled. He smiled back awkwardly.

"Shrek, Fiona," Harold began as if about to make a pronouncement, paused for a moment, and then continued more humbly, "would you accept an old frog's apologies … and my blessing?"

Harold had been looking mostly at Shrek when he'd said that. Fiona also looked over at her husband. Still apparently somewhat embarrassed, Shrek nodded his acceptance … and forgiveness. Fiona had an odd feeling then that there was much more that Harold was asking forgiveness for than she was aware of, and so Shrek's gesture was perhaps even more magnanimous than it appeared now. But that was past. Besides, whatever unsavory deeds her father had performed to the newlyweds' detriment before, he had this day performed feats of redeeming heroism, preserving Fiona's soul in withholding the potion, and saving Shrek's life by throwing himself between him and the crazed Godmother's wrath. In return he had literally been stripped naked to the people of his kingdom, and had his darkest, most feared secret exposed. Fiona couldn't help but remember her own experience at the church in Duloc, where she had her own dread secret revealed when she transformed into an ogress in front of nearly the entire stunned town. So she, of all the people here, most knew what the king was going through. And so, as for some of his more inscrutable actions and utterances … well, she thought as she looked at the frog, that explained a lot.

"Harold," Lillian said, looking down at her husband with apparent admiration. Harold however, seemed to take it as pity.

"I'm sorry, Lillian," he said mournfully as he looked up at her, "I just wish I could be the man you deserve."

Harold then turned and tried to hop away.

But Lillian caught him.

Harold looked about, surprised, as Lillian lifted him towards her.

"You're more that 'man' today than you ever were," she said, smiling lovingly at him. Then she added, in mild jocularity, "Warts and all."

Harold looked back at her, smiled with gratitude and relief, and croaked happily.

Fiona looked at her parents, the frog king and human queen. She saw the love radiating between them – more now than she could ever remember seeing before. She wondered – did her mother always know? Was she aware of her father's amphibious origins before they met? Or had he hidden them from her and this was the first time she was seeing him in this form – apparently his true form? Had he, like Fiona, feared that he would be rejected for this true self? Or had he presented his true self to Lillian, as Shrek had to Fiona, with the lowest of expectations, only to find Lillian fall in love with him anyway? Fiona wondered. But as she continued watching Harold and Lillian and seeing them not just as her parents but as a pair who loved each other and would continue to do so through any adversity, despite their differences and in spite of what others thought, Fiona realized it didn't really matter.

Fiona felt Shrek touch her arm. She looked over to see him smile and gesture upward. She nodded and let him assist her to her feet. Together they looked down at Fiona's parents, and Fiona felt Shrek slip his hand into hers and squeeze gently.

Then the large courtyard clock struck the first bell of midnight.

"Boss!" Puss cried urgently. "The Happily-Ever-After Potion!"

Shrek looked back at the clock. "Midnight!" he gasped. He appeared to take a moment of quick contemplation while Fiona looked up at the clock and wondered what the sudden fuss was about. Then Shrek turned to her, his face indicating more import to his words than she'd ever remembered seeing before.

"Fiona," he said, taking her by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. "Is this what you want?" The urgency, the demand for an instant answer faded a bit as he seemed to note the confusion in her eyes. "To be this way, forever?" he explained, his voice softer, his hands sliding down her arms and then clasping her hands.

"What?" Fiona asked, still confused, but feeling a little spark of hope ignite within her.

"Because if you kiss me now, we can stay like this," he said, smiling and raising her hands to chest level.

Fiona was stunned. So this wasn't a permanent transformation! After all that she had been through this day, bemoaning all that she had thought was lost and believing that there was no going back – it would all change back at midnight, automatically, if she simply refrained from a kiss? She surely had been a fool! Yet here was Shrek, his mind under no spell, threat, or trick, and still he was offering her that kiss, offering to seal their forms as humans, offering to sacrifice all that he had felt defined him, all for her, all just to make her happy.

"You'd do that … for me?" she asked, her voice not much higher than a whisper.

"Yes," he said unhesitatingly, and pulled her a little closer to him.

There it was. Shrek was not only willing to sacrifice his true self for her, he had left the decision in her hands. She had complained that he didn't ask what she wanted, resented the idea that he perhaps didn't care, and yet now here he was, trusting her with the most important decision of both of their lives. And the expression on his face revealed an openness and trustfulness that said he would accept any decision she made without complaint or regret.

All day long Fiona had been living a nightmare. Now she was in a dream come true.

Her gaze drifted over to Donkey and Puss. The cat seemed breathless with anticipation, but her old and uncharacteristically silent equine friend simply offered a patient, benevolent smile. Then Fiona turned and looked back at her mother where she now stood, still holding her father with both hands. Mother and daughter shared a knowing glance, and Lillian smiled at the pure joy on Fiona's face. Harold, too, smiled sympathetically, awaiting a decision that Fiona knew he would now respect either way.

Fiona started to turn back to Shrek, but paused halfway. She took a moment to think back again to the life that the little girl she had once been dreamed that she'd have: marriage to a brave, handsome prince, residing here in her grandiose home, Mom and Dad nearby, living all together as one big happy royal family as Fiona raised her children to be proper little princes and princesses themselves. Mrs. Fiona Charming – well, close enough, for Shrek was offering to make that dream a reality. That is, it would be a reality if they could find a way to change Harold back into a human, and then if they trained Shrek in all the niceties and conventions and tedious protocols of 'civilized' courtly life …

… and if Fiona could unlearn every lesson, deny every pleasure, and rebuff every genuine feeling she had had from the moment that a big green ogre had come crashing through her tower room roof.

No. There was only one life that fit them, one life that she really, really wanted. She bid a mental farewell to fantasies of childhood, and turned turn to face her future, which stared back at her with big, brown, anxious eyes.

"I want what any princess wants," she said, "to live happily ever after ..."

Shrek smiled a loving and understanding smile. Then he leaned forward, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. He had misunderstood which decision would lead to her happily-ever-after. She had suspected he might. She reached up with her left hand and gently laid her fingers on his lips, stopping the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked at her, surprised.

"… with the ogre I married," she completed her pronouncement, sliding her left hand from his lips to caress his right cheek.

Shrek looked at her as he lifted his right hand and laid it gently atop her left. His expression beamed an array of emotions – relief, gratitude, but above all, adoration. There was a trace of uncertainty as he seemed to be searching her face for something. Fiona knew for what; he was seeking any trace of uncertainty in her own expression, any hint that this was something she didn't really want or might regret, that this was a sacrifice that she was making for him. Fiona's smile deepened. Let him search for such things, she thought. He would find none. She soon saw the uncertainty disappear from his face, and all that she saw reflected there now was deep, pure love. He tenderly lowered her hand from his cheek until they were again facing each other and clasping hands at just below chest level. They did not kiss. Not yet.

The clock tolled the last stroke of midnight. Then the transformation began.

It started with their joined hands; a warm, bluish glow that quickly spread up their arms and across their bodies, accompanied by tickling sparkles of white light. At first Shrek looked down at the lights dancing across their blue glowing arms in awestruck wonder, then his eyes followed the spreading glow back to Fiona's face, and he grinned. Fiona felt light on her feet, and then they started to float. They rose slowly, and started spinning in little circles even more slowly as their glow grew brighter. It went from blue to white. Then, in a literal flash, the two found themselves dressed again in the clothes that they were wearing just before they had transformed into their human selves – Shrek in his off-white shirt, alligator-skin vest, and plaid pants, and Fiona in her dark green dress. But now the dress, like Shrek's clothes, was ogre-sized, and the outfits hung baggily on the duo. That situation did not last long, however. Through the fading glow Fiona could already see Shrek's skin changing from its peach hue back to its proper green coloring. As it did so, his physique also changed. He grew larger, like a parade balloon being pumped with air. His button nose grew bulbous; his long wavy locks receded, seemingly growing back into his scalp which soon regained its shiny bald pate. His taught round buttocks and this firm tummy expanded even more than the rest of him, until they, too, had returned to their true dimensions. His ears warped and expanded outwards into the trademark ogre earstalks. Soon the dark-haired stranger was no more. In his place floated the familiar ogre. And Fiona couldn't have been happier.

As the princess had watched Shrek's metamorphosis, she was quite aware of her own. Unlike her previous sunset and dawn transformations, there was no sudden discomfort or pain. This time she simply felt a warm, tingling sensation all over her body, a body that she felt slowly expand, like Shrek's, to fill her outfit as she resumed her broad ogress form. She breathed deeply through her widening nostrils, and thrilled as she detected her husband's familiar, pungent scent. She didn't realize how much she'd missed that. Her own reshaped ears, thrusting outwards as her own earstalks grew, were now able to hear more clearly, and picked up on the oo's and ah's from the people below. Fiona glanced downward, between the bands of shimmering light, and her sharper ogress eyesight easily picked out her mother, still tenderly holding her amphibian father, both staring up at her and smiling. She smiled back. Then she turned back to Shrek. He was staring at her with those big, gorgeous eyes. He looked so very joyful. But then one last trace of doubt clouded his expression, as if he feared this was all too good to be true.

"You're really sure, Fi?" he asked softly, which made him hard to hear over Donkey's nearby protests over his own transformation. Their friend was apparently less enthusiastic about resuming his true form.

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "With all my heart."

Shrek sighed, his face reflecting great relief and extreme happiness. Then he chuckled and said, "I'm sorry. I thought … I thought you wanted us t'be beautiful."

A mischievous glint in her eyes, Fiona grinned and said, "But you are beautiful."

Shrek laughed briefly, but then realized from the look on Fiona's face that, despite her impish delivery, she had meant every word. He resumed simply staring at her in silence, the adoration that was spread across his own face as he beheld his re-ogrified wife saying more than any words could. The transformation was complete, and the pair was slowly starting to descend in the same slow spiral. They released each other's pudgy hands and instead reached for and embraced each other's rotund forms. Fiona closed her eyes as she contentedly rested her head upon Shrek's broad shoulder. She hugged him closely, tightly, wanting to drink him in through every pore of her being. For a few moments no one existed in the ballroom … in the kingdom … in the world … but the two of them.

They landed lightly on their feet. They released each other and again stared, smiling, into each other's faces as the last glowing shimmers faded. Then, a few feet away, they heard a plop and slight 'oof' as Donkey, his transformation complete as well, landed on his behind. Fiona looked over at her brave friend, who now examined his restored body with a disappointed sigh.

"Hey," Shrek, smiling gratefully, said to him, "you still look like a noble steed to me."

Fiona smiled as well and nodded her agreement. Donkey looked back at them and returned a sad grin of his own. Beside him stood the fairytale gang. All, like Donkey, had risked life and limb. Rather than any tangible reward, they had fought for friendship, for loyalty, and for some unidentifiable something that the unlikely ogre pairing represented. It was something elemental and pure, something that had survived odds even steeper than this group had just overcome to bloom, to grow, and to thrive.

Fiona turned back to Shrek. She felt happier at that moment than at any time since … well, since their honeymoon. Those magical, wonderful days, which were sent crashing to earth, literally like herself, when the king's messengers had arrived with their summons to this kingdom. Their honeymoon had ended then. But no, she reflected. Not ended. It had been interrupted. It was now time to resume it. She giggled, then reached up with her left hand and turned Shrek's face back towards hers.

"Now," she said suggestively, ignoring all the eyes upon them as she playfully fingered the front of Shrek's vest, "where were we?"

Shrek recognized her mimicking of his lighthearted words from their last happy moments back in the swamp, and he beamed at her. "Oh!" he said, his tone equally playful. "I remember."

Shrek swept the princess into his arms as her eyes grew wider, her smile broader, and her heart pounded within her chest as if demanding to be set free. She giggled again gleefully as he tilted her back in a move reminiscent of all those fairytale romances featuring more … conventional principals. Unlike the last time he had tried this maneuver, when she had too easily slipped through his fingers, he now made sure his grip on her was tight and rock-solid. Fiona sensed this, and felt safe and secure in his arms. Shrek paused for a moment, staring down at her, his face radiating a love so deep and true that poets had not yet devised lines worthy enough to express it. Then he leaned down and they shared a too-long-delayed kiss. Water given to a woman dying of thirst could not have tasted sweeter to her than this kiss did to Fiona. She did not have to concentrate this time to recall all the passionate, amorous feelings that their previous kisses invoked; they poured back now with a delightful vengeance.

Around her she was dimly aware of applause from the crowd. It was not the polite applause of protocol, either, but a heartfelt expression for all they had just witnessed. It appeared that the ogres might be accepted here after all, for who they were, just as they were. It was just a matter of getting to know someone before you judged them. After all, she reflected, it isn't external appearances, nor effusive words, but rather what we do that truly defines us. Her husband and his friends – their friends – had indeed defined themselves as heroes. As for herself … she was who she was. She swore to herself she would never again make another apology or feel embarrassment for herself, or for her beloved ogre, just for being who they were.

There were so many questions yet unanswered. What was to become of her father now? And what of herself; how was she to reconcile her position as the heir to the kingdom with her place as the wife of a swamp-dwelling ogre? What were they to do with the imposter prince? Was he but a simple dupe of the Fairy Godmother? And what if she wasn't dead after all? That last thought made Fiona shudder.

Fiona recalled her mother's words. Happily-ever-after isn't an end, Fiona. It's a beginning. It's not a fate, it's an opportunity. An opportunity to face the rest of your lives together, as one loving, caring, mutually supportive unit, confronting and overcoming conflicts and difficulties, as well as sharing in joys and happiness. Happily-ever-afters aren't just granted, Fiona. They're what you work for.

Very well, thought Fiona, locked protectively in the embrace of the ogre she loved. As long as they were together, she could face anything.

Let the adventures begin!

THE END