Once upon a time, a fairy gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.

All who knew them praised her for the blessing of such a wonderful child upon the kingdom.

As the child grew, he became more handsome every day, though unfortunately both he and his mother knew just how much could be handed his way because of this, as well as her own influence upon the kingdom.

As charming as he was on the outside, on his journey to become a man he did many ugly things,

For his mother and even worse, for his own selfish gain.

Beautiful on the outside, ugly on the inside, he did not expect his undoing to be a creature as hideous and foul as an ogre.

What the man did not understand that as ugly as the ogre was on the outside, on the inside he was kind and would have gladly laid down his own happiness and even his life for the ones he cared about.

This lack of understanding would be his own downfall, but not necessarily the end of his tale,

For even the ugliest soul has a chance at redemption.

Prince Charming was certain that he should have gone mad by now, given the impossible amount of time he had spent down in this dank, pitch darkness, even blindness wouldn't have crossed his mind it was so dark. The days seemed to mesh until he honestly couldn't tell if they even passed anymore, save for the three square meals he still received. How long had it been since his failed coupe? Weeks, months, a year, maybe more … nothing seemed much to matter. He was fairly certain that he'd even grown somewhat of … a beard. Ugh! He shuddered at the very notion, swearing that the first thing he would ever do if he were released would be to shave and bathe himself thoroughly, definitely get a haircut … and then he would finally have his vengeance.

Shrek.

Even the mere thought of that wretched ogre's names made his stomach turn with sheer rage and sorrow. Not only was he denied his kingdom, his birthright, the princess he was supposed to have … but his own mother … that brute was the entire reason his life had fallen to complete shambles, not his! Yet people stood beside him, a monster, and not Charming! Why? He was smart, dashing, and his hair had once been the envy of even the most beautiful maiden! He couldn't fathom the reason why a princess of all people fell for that … that … he didn't want to think about it anymore. The only recent thing he had heard from the outside world were whispers of some imp causing a ruckus and oooh, who saved the day again? That should have been him seeing that curly toed weirdo to justice! Instead, here he was, rotting away in the dark, and he had even once been afraid of the dark. He remembered as a young boy and … even admittedly a few times before now … he would rush to his mother's side if the candle by his bedside went out … she would smile and stroke his hair, and sing him a lullaby, or tell him a story of the dashing prince rescuing his fair maiden … a happily ever after. It was all he ever wanted, and now-

He winced as the door to his personal cell opened; flooding the room with bright light that he still wasn't used to. He winced and held his shackled arms up to his face, curling into himself as he tried to protect his eyes from the blinding sensation. The guard – whom he recognized to be that Cyclops that was once on his side – grimaced almost in disgust at the sight of the man formerly known as Prince Charming, what he imagined to be, seen as merely a shell of his former self. Charming deflated, wondering if he was only here to bring him his next meal. Was it lunch time already?

"On your feet," He grumbled as he entered the cell, grasping the smaller man roughly by his shoulders and hoisting him onto his wobbly legs, catching him when he nearly fell into his giant chest.

"Today's your trial … we're going to get you looking decent at the very least."

The entire kingdom had turned out to witness this particular trial … if it could even be called that. It wasn't as though there were any reasonable doubt that Prince Charming had gathered the villains into a small army to try and kill the next ruler and take over the kingdom; everyone was there to witness the spectacle, as well as forced to sit through his God awful play about how amazing he was and why he should be the king. Artie – or rather King Arthur now – shuddered remembering it. Then again, if it weren't for all of that … and especially not for Shrek … he wouldn't be the man that stood before his people today, or at least would in a few hours. He needed to prepare and all, and that included preparing to look as kingly as possible for the people. Unfortunately, even in the year that had passed, Artie hadn't grown too, too much, maybe in height but not exactly in … breadth. Taller, he was still awkwardly thin, kind of gawky looking … puberty had more put him on the stretching rack rather than prepare him for knighthood. Either way, here he was, the royal tailor making the finishing touches on his new outfit, one that complimented his height, with horizontal lining to give him a thicker sort of look, his crown sitting proudly nestled on top of a head of brushed back hair.

He was lucky to have a tailor that he could trust; the last one tried to sell him out on 'special' material that almost had him walking out onto the streets butt naked. Merlin, his advisor, thankfully recognized the ruse as having happened to a certain Emperor, and the tailor didn't get one cent out of Far Far Away. Speaking of, the former magic teacher had just entered the tailoring chambers as Artie's royal cape was set upon his shoulders, a deep burgundy to match the rest of his attire, with the symbol of his family, Pendragon, emblazoned on the lining and his breast. He puffed his chest out, watching himself in the mirror almost hesitantly, as though he didn't recognize the man in the mirror. In a way he … almost looked like his father. He wondered if that was good or bad…

"You've never looked more regal, Arthur." Merlin smiled supportively, placing his elderly hand firmly on the youth's shoulders, a proud smile on his face. Over the past year, Artie could even say that Merlin had become more a father to him than his real father ever was … even if he was a bit odd at times. At least now, finished with his sabbatical, he was calmly and permanently at Artie's side, both being his magical and most trusted advisor, although he still ate his famous Rock Au Gratin from time to time, dressed in his royal blue robes, a similar hat from his old one perched atop his balding head; he looked much more like a wizard now than he did living out in a shack in the woods.

"Thanks, Merlin." Artie replied with a shaky breath, the tailor bowing with a mumbled 'your Majesty' and slipping from the room. As soon as the door closed, he knew it was safe to converse about … today, and Merlin spoke first.

"You realize that this punishment is the best way, Artie … anything else would be –" He was cut off.

"But what if it doesn't work? What if it doesn't change anything? What if he-"

"Tries to kill you again?" The silence in the room was almost deafening for the five minutes that passed. Artie sighed shakily again, moving to sit down in a nearby chair as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Arthur … it is alright to be scared … this is a big decision. But …even though you are still young, you are no longer a child. I saw that the day that you were crowned the new king." He murmured and stood firmly before him. "And given your own circumstances, you of all people should know how much anyone deserves a second chance …"

Merlin was right, at least in that aspect. Being labeled a loser, not given the chance then to show what he was made of … it was painful. Knowing that no one thought any more of you than what they first had to go on was frustrating, and only when he was given the chance, this chance to prove what he was really capable of, he was given a kingdom, a new life. For once in his life, he was important to a great many people, and not only that … he had to show them that he was not only merciful, but firm. He had first wanted to banish Charming from the kingdom, but what would that teach him? He would only start up more trouble for another kingdom, and Artie would get the brunt of that. Death was too cruel, no one deserved that … even if the man had tried to kill him. That was when Merlin came up with … the sentence that was to be served today. He only feared, really, how the kingdom would react to something so controversial.

"You're right, Merlin. Forgive me, I was speaking rashly." He took off his crown, running his hand through his now ruffled up locks, before setting it back on his head, standing. "I should know better than to not trust your judgment by now." He smiled and patted his old friend on the shoulder, before moving past him. "But how are you so –"

"Certain about this?" He smiled; the older man had a way of finishing the boy's sentences. Artie wasn't sure that, with his now sound mind, that he may or may not be able to read his. "Arthur … fate has a way of working in ways most mysterious. It seems to be its preference." He moved back to Artie's side, only to move on and hold the door open for him. He said nothing more; it confused the young man, but he, for now, would not question it, as he moved to head out the door, his train dragging somewhat behind him. It was nearly time and all, and they hadn't a moment to waste.

The entire kingdom of Far Far Away was bustling with excitement toward the castle grounds; they couldn't think of how long it had been since the last public trial, given that it seemed that most villains that recently threatened the kingdom either had died or were, in the case of one Rumplestiltskin, locked in a cage in a swamp entirely away from them. This, however, seemed to be a special exception to the rule, and although Shrek and his brood were not able to attend – something about one of the children having come down with something – that did not stop a certain talking donkey and his feline friend from missing out on the sentencing of the century. They were nearly jostled about in the rushing crowds on their way to the castle, having to quickly move over to the sidewalks so they could at least move about without any tails being stepped upon.

"Damn, you'd think this the Twelve Dancin' Princesses were in town or somethin'!" Donkey huffed as he trotted along, mister Puss in Boots hitching a ride on his back. "Though I do wanna go see-"

"Well, what did you expect?" Puss interrupted him, making the burro nearly trip over his words. "Everyone loves a good show, a public trial is … something like that, I suppose. Though I am wondering what Charming's fate is going to be." He ended his sentence with a Cheshire-like grin, fixing his feathered cap with a flicker of his wrist. "Maybe he'll be banished."

"Banished? Artie's too nice for that … I'm sure they got somethin' planned tha's probably gonna involve a lotta mumbo jumbo wordplay or some sort'a lesson t' be learned or whatever." He shrugged his shoulders the best he could for a four legged steed. "That seems t' happen a lot actua- HEY WE'RE HERE!" Donkey momentarily forgot his own fourth wall breaking anecdote to gallop quickly past the gates and into the main area, where in the center a bleak wooden stand had been set up for the accused to stand; he wasn't there yet, of course, but the two had arrived soon enough to get a good front row standing area to watch, where Donkey would settle on his rear and Puss would sit atop his head to get a better view. By the time more people crowded in, they were already flooding out of the gate entrance, some of them opting to try and clamber onto the top of the wall to get a bird's eye view of the event.

Another hour or so of waiting, with tension mounting high and thick enough to slice like a stick of butter, the palace doors swung open, revealing that Charming was to exit first. Puss marveled at the drastic change that had befallen the vain man in his year of imprisonment. His hair, while washed recently, was shaggy, unkempt, falling in blonde curtains over his eyes, which gave away his fatigue and unhappiness They carried black bags underneath them, and although they had shaved away most of the beard that had grown in, he bore a five o' clock shadow; in place of his usual lavish attire, he had been donned in the garb of an imprisoned commoner, torn and tattered. Those who had known him would not have been able to recognize him.

He was yanked along by the chains on his wrists, stumbling on his feet until the guards shoved him up onto the podium, securing his chains to a hook that sat just in front of him. He yanked, weakly, whimpering slightly when he realized he could not break free. The crowd taunted and jeered, as though delighted that someone like Prince Charming was finally getting his just desserts; that he'd been dragged below their level and made to beg for the mercy he never showed anyone else.

As soon as Charming was held down, Artie appeared on the high balcony above the open area, the crowd bursting into cheers the moment he stepped out into the open with Merlin at his side. He raised his hand, and the people fell silent. One of the guards grabbed Charming roughly by the shoulders and pushed him to his knees, drawing a startled yelp from the fallen idol, nearly sending him sprawling to his face if his hands had failed in keeping him up on all fours, looking much like a chained animal.

"This is barbaric." Puss' ears perked at the half hearted mumble, glancing behind him to observe the owner of the voice. The woman was fairly young, pretty enough he supposed, and appeared to be with her elderly father.

"He was barbaric," Her father sighed, fixing his half moon glasses to settle once more upon the bridge of his pudgy nose. "It's only what he deserves."

"Still," She sighed, thin arms holding themselves at her waist. She shook her head, allowing wisps of brown hair to fall from her loosely tied bun, brushing her forehead and cheeks. "It won't change what he did."

"That soft spot of yours, Annabelle," Her father chuckled, his face wrinkling further before falling silent once more as the king began to speak.

"Prince Charming, you stand convicted before the people of the kingdom, charged with treason, kidnapping, two counts of attempted murder, and usurpation of the royal crown." Artie's voice was hard, cold, and it made Charming wince at every charge that was brought up against him. "Before you are sentenced by the Court, do you have anything that you wish to say? Any regrets?"

Charming's head hung momentarily, as though contemplating, or even resigned to the idea that he was probably about to die; these words had to count. Slowly, his head rose, eyes that were darkened over with hate, shadowed by limp hanging strands of hair. It was a stare of sheer malice that met the king's cool gaze.

"The one thing I regret in this life," He growled, just loud enough for Artie to hear. "is failing to kill you and that damned ogre."

The crowd fell into a surprised hush of whispers, his final sentence reverberating in the air. Puss' fur stood on end and Donkey shuddered, but Artie remained unphased by his words, at least outwardly. He shook his head, disappointed, and looked away from the prisoner.

"Here I was hoping you'd learned." He mumbled under his breath, nodding towards Merlin silently. The wizard nodded in turn, cracking his knuckles; Charming's eyes darted towards the old man, seeing sparks flicker around his wrists and fingers.

"Prince Charming, you will not die on this day." Artie turned back to face the astonished crowd, all who had come hoping for a public execution. "You will not so easily escape the severity of your crimes. Even the worst of people have some good in their heart, and that's why second chances are given." Charming would have been giddy with excitement, if he weren't wary of the wizard conjuring something to himself.

"Charming! You've lived a life that has been handed to you, a life of privilege based on your mother's influence and your general appearance. Your punishment is taking on a new form, a form that will remain as yours until you see with the eyes of your heart."

Eyes of the heart; what the devil was he going on about? However, the king's speech was the least of his problems at the moment. Merlin placed one foot upon the stone wall before him for support, his hands teeming with electric blue energy.

"Penitus Formositas!" He thrust his hands forward, the magic rushing ahead and enveloping Charming; he nearly screamed with pain, already feeling the spell begin to take effect. Several of his bones cracked and reformed to change his body, snarling as his jaw jutted forcefully forward, followed by his nose as they started to merge into a muzzle, lined with rows of sharp fangs that slowly began to grow from his gum line.

All along his body, fur similar in color to his hair began to grow rapidly, up his forearms, hands, legs, feet and neck, even his face. His hands became large, so much so that his wrists broke his bindings, his fingers, long and gnarled, tipped with dangerous looking claws. His feet burst from his ragged shoes, legs morphing to resemble that of a wolf, paws with claws extended, scratching painfully into the wood below him, ripping it as though it were pliant as paper. He bulged, grew and morphed, tearing through the rest of his tattered clothes, rising to a staggering height until finally a loud, wounded howl tore from his throat, his snout aimed to the heavens as the process completed.

Charming nearly drooled as he tried to catch his breath, dizzy from pain with his now long tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He stumbled somewhat as he tried to keep his footing, exhausted eyes raking over the silent crowd. They stared at him with disbelief in their eyes, stunned and frightened entirely by the beast that stood in place of the man.

Somewhere amongst the crowd, a woman screamed.