Disclaimer – Don't own Teen Titans, or the ideas borrowed from Shrek. This was written purely for fun and because I wanted to write something humorous. This will not be an exact replica of Shrek because that's already been done. No, this uses some ideas, but it's not going to be anywhere near word for word.
EDIT --this chapter and the next have been edited due to the fact that I was having issues with the story and felt I could do better.
Her tower was… nice. She felt that using a stronger adjective would be giving false glamour to a room with little appeal. It was slightly comfortable, perhaps. Finely woven rugs covered the ground and only sparse patches of the stony floor peeked through to the stony ceiling. Her furniture was clean and overstuffed, her bed padded with goose-down and covered with a delicate quilt.
She had a solitary window on one of her walls, hidden among ornate tapestries and glimmering mirrors and clearly expensive paintings of places she had no desire to look upon. During the summer she could push the window open and find a cool breeze waiting to lick at her cheeks and dance around her room.
And during the winter, she had billows of black smoke roasting the base of her home as her guardian lay in wait, gnawing on the bones of the last rescue attempt. Her window remained primarily shut during the winter and she could only gaze at the swiftly falling snow with an undying yearning to leave this forsaken prison and be free once more.
Most of her days were spent near the window, either seated in a large red armchair with a book nestled in her lap, or on the windowsill, meditating. The books she had were few in number, but long and ancient texts. Her bookcase was full, but in her time stuck in that little room, she had read each of them dozens of times and could nearly recite them word for word. But reading was better that staring listlessly out at a world that she felt she would never rejoin.
When she was first placed into this tower, she felt no anger towards the ones who imprisoned her. Her brother, the King of a land far to the East had placed her there for the safety of his kingdom, and for the safety of herself. The curse upon her had to be lifted before she returned home, her brother explained with a rather apologetic tone. His eyes said otherwise.
The more she stewed on his banishment, the more her Anger grew, digging its roots deep into her mind and bursting forth with the tenacity and obstinate will of a patch of particularly bothersome weeds. But with meditation she had locked it away in her mind. Anger was the most persistent of her emotions, followed closely by Hope, but as of late, Hope had been rather quiet and languid. Defeated, it seemed, by the five years of living in this wretched tower.
Sometimes she found herself wishing to go home, and sometimes she found herself wishing to go anywhere but. She found that she was only truly happy when she closed her eyes and allowed her body rest.
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Robin leaned forward in his seat, resting one finely manicured hand on the edge of his throne, nails tapping an irritated beat. A small crown rested upon his onyx black hair, nestled up against the hair gel. His crown was lopsided and his face was gaunt. Red rimmed eyes stared down from his throne to the ground, unmoving. It was obvious he had been crying.
He was getting older – nearly twenty years old and still a Prince. Robin's father had passed away a mere one month before, but because of the law, Robin was still a Prince. His time did not permit him to find a Princess to marry. Did his royal heritage mean nothing?
The years before the King's death were swamped in a long, drawn out war with a neighboring country. That was, in fact, how the King met his end. He sat astride his mighty war horse, only to be struck down by a stray arrow from his own archers. That same day a cease fire was called and the war was over.
It was left to Prince Robin to clean up the aftermath and rule his people.
But that still didn't make him King.
"Cyrus?" He murmured, his thoughts buzzing around his head like dead flies.
"Yes, sire." Cyrus was around Robin's age, Robin's childhood friend as it were. Cyrus had been mauled by a bear at age five and had lost his legs and his left arm. The court magician had been able to graft fake limbs onto Cyrus and enchant them to move as real limbs would, earning him the nickname Cyborg.
"I need a wife." He said the sentence as if it were life changing, a statement that held grave weight.
"Surely you wish to wait until your father has had a proper burial?" Cyborg suggested. Normally he was a rather charged individual with a loud, booming voice, but in the presence of his tormented friend, he kept his voice to a gentle whisper.
"But I can't... My people… My duty insists…" Robin paused, adjusting his crown.
And suddenly Cyrus understood. Duty was all Robin had left. It drove him to be the best he could be, both as a human being and as a ruler. It made him fair and kept him sane, but it also pushed him further from comfort.
"What do you require of me?" Cyrus bowed slightly, eyes not leaving Robin's drawn face.
"Please, fetch Mumbo. I believe he can use his magic to seek out a proper maiden for me." Robin cleared his throat, and Cyrus didn't like the sound it created. It seemed almost that there was a sickness building, and wet hack seeded deep in Robin's lungs.
Cyrus bowed deeply, "As you wish."
Truth be told, Cy was rather nervous about using Mumbo. Mumbo was one of the foremost magicians of his time, but he was known for "jolly good jokes", as Mumbo called them. His pranks had earned him the nickname of Puck, as his mischief was often seen as otherworldly. He certainly did nothing to de-sway the rumors, but instead encouraged them by wearing strange clothing and dancing in the light of the full moon. Cyrus was apprehensive, predicting that Mumbo was going to pull some sort of misguided mischief on an already distraught man.
"You wished to see me, milord?" Mumbo danced gallantly into the room, taking wide steps, making sure the bells on the tips of his shoes jingled.
"Yes, Mumbo. Stop acting like a fool for half a second or do as I command."
"Which is it? Do you want me to stop acting like a fool? Or listen to you?"
"Both!"
"Well, you used 'or' and that generally means I have a choice in the matter."
Cyrus laid his large, mechanical hand on Mumbo's shoulder, "Don't push him, man."
Mumbo shrugged, "Oh, your Grace, I am sorry for any aggravation I might have caused his royal person…."
"Cut the crap, Mumbo." Robin pressed his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes.
"Oh, someone's got a temper."
"Mumbo." Cyrus's hand tightened.
"Yes, sire, what can your humble servant do for you?"
"Use your magic to find a maiden."
Mumbo smirked, a fun joke floating behind his eyes, "As you wish." He dug into his cloak, pulling out a glinting crystal ball. One tap from his lanky finger sent colorful fumes dancing around.
Eventually the colors faded revealing a pale, exotic beauty. She had shoulder-length hair faltered in the slight breeze that waffled around, a reddish glow coming from below her off-setting the purple tint of her hair. The image shook for a moment and the girl blinked her large lavender eyes. Her skin was very pale and tinted faintly lavender.
Robin couldn't draw his eyes from her image, "Wow."
Mumbo hid a smirk behind his hands, "She is very pretty, I think."
Cyrus stepped forward and bowed again, "I will fetch her, Robin."
Mumbo rubbed his hands together, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. His plans were falling into place, "Oh! No, no! That wouldn't do! Do you want the poor girl falling in love with the strong knight who saved her?"
Cyrus bristled slightly, "I would never give her false impressions."
Robin waved him off, "I suppose not. What do you suggest?"
Mumbo pretended to think a moment, "I do believe I have a girl in mind for you, my liege." His voice dripped with sincerity.
Cyrus was immediately suspicious, but Robin didn't seem to notice, so he bit his tongue.
Continuing, Mumbo explained that a family of foreigners had recently moved into a small farming community just west of the castle and their youngest daughter was obscenely strong for her slim stature. And, he added slyly, if offered citizenship and perhaps a deed to a patch of land she could call her own, she'd probably go wherever he wanted her to.
"Well? Go and set her on her quest." Robin responded moodily. Mumbo was beginning to irritate him. "And none of your stupid tricks."
"Stupid tricks? Never." Mumbo insisted. None of his tricks were stupid.
With a hop, skip, and a bow Mumbo pranced from the Prince's presence and out of the castle. He went along on his merry way, heading west until he came upon a tall red-headed girl gardening a small patch of bright flowers. He paused near her, beaming.
"Are you the one known as Starfire?"
She nodded, a little uncertain, "I think that is how you might translate it."
"Oh, jolly good!" He did a small jig, "I have a job for you!"
She smiled at him, "I do so hope I can help."
"The Prince wishes you to go and rescue a young woman from a tower in the far East. It's a treacherous journey, but you will be rewarded: land and citizenship."
Her eyes narrowed a moment as she processed, but they re-widened after a moment, "I think I can do that."
"You'll face the dread dragon Rorek," he warned, "and you'll find her in the highest room in the tallest tower of the prison she's kept in."
"I will find a way."
"That is very well." Mumbo snapped his fingers and a puff of smoke produced a small green boy, who straightened and beamed, "My servant, Beast Boy will accompany you."
"Sweet! This is so awesome! I haven't been out in…. well, I've never been out, but you know what I mean!"
Star shook her head, "I'm afraid that I do not."
Beast Boy would not be deflated, "Booyah!"
Mumbo grinned and bowed, "I await your return." He disappeared, leaving the two heroes to ready for their journey. It took but a moment for Starfire to round up minimal supplies.
They began their journey westward with the setting sun glinting on their faces and adventure nipping at their heels. In her tower, the maiden shifted in her meditation, as if sensing her salvation.