"You know what the best part of today was?" he asked, "I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again."
Fiona smiled sadly before bending down to kiss him, holding most of his upper body weight. As he used the last of his waning strength to barely pucker his lips, she felt his body grow lighter as it rapidly faded from her arms. Opening her eyes she lowered her hands, feeling part of her heart die with him. Looking down upon herself she saw the sparkles that were beginning to swirl majestically over her transforming body. Stricken, the ogres watched.
When the magical cloud faded, a beautiful human was left in the warrior's wake. She wore the warrior's clothing, but unlike her dress, Fiona's ragged makeshift apparel had not been cursed by the witch; and it hung loosely over her delicate human form. She was much smaller as a human and so her hair appeared much longer. It hung heavily to the linoleum, uncombed and wild.
Puss stared at his best friend. Unlike the others, he had seen the transformation many times. It was not a shock. What surprised him was how she didn't even seem to realize that she was not alone.
"Hah!" Rumpelstiltskin's evil chortle was the only thing that could manifest in Fiona's fog of grief. "I knew nobody could love a real ogre. The palace is mine!"
"No it ain't, squidget," Cookie sassed. "Your time is up, too."
Rumpelstiltskin squirmed again. "Baba!" he commanded. "Save me."
All eyes went to the flock of witches, who stood in a terrified cluster amongst the ogres. Baba looked at her coworkers before stepping forth, walking timidly through the sea of monsters. She stopped before Cookie and raised her eyes to his, seeing in them a sudden kindness that made up her mind. "No," she said simply, and the room went still. "You're not worth saving. I don't want you alive anymore."
"What!"
Cookie smiled nervously at the witch before carrying Rumpelstiltskin away. He was followed by several ogres. Most of the Resistance stayed rooted where they stood, looking at the statue princess. The witches stood with them, silent, as Baba returned to stand with her friends. Ogre and witch did not communicate. Everybody was still, and most eyes were turned to the undeniably cursed woman kneeling in Fiona's place.
Suddenly Fiona lurched to her feet and looked at the debris on the polished kingdom floor. Ignoring everyone, she walked to the discarded helmet near where Shrek had fallen, and bent to retrieve it. Brushing some stray hair from her face, she looked up at the fading sunset and then, surprising her unsuspecting audience, she chucked the helmet in a fit of rage. It struck the wall and clattered noisily across the floor, spinning to a halt at the feet of a frightened witch.
"What is it with redheads?" one ogre whispered to another.
The witch picked up the helmet and walked timidly to Fiona. "Uh, I guess you must be the cursed princess," she said, in a rather pleasant voice that surprised Fiona. "We accept whatever punishment is in store for us."
Fiona looked up at the witch. Her eyes were as cold and sharp as icicles.
"But you should know that we were only going along with him out of fear. We didn't have the courage to stand up to him like you did."
Fiona turned her eyes from the witch to the countless others who looked back at her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide what she wanted to be. Whether she would decide to seize the kingdom or hand it over to the Pope, she still had one last special decree.
"Every witch is hereby sentenced to life in prison." Before she had even finished the sentence, the air was filled with the sound of rustling fabric as the ogres searched for weapons, and the clatter of broomsticks falling to the linoleum floor before the ogres began escorting the witches from the room. Soon only Fiona, Donkey and Puss remained.
"So whatcha gonna do now?" Donkey asked.
Fiona crossed her arms. "I'm going to take it back," she announced. "You and the ogres are invited to live with me."
"Here?" Donkey asked, looking around the palace with big eyes.
"Yes."
Puss cleared his throat. "Might I make a suggestion?" he asked, and continued at Fiona's nod. "A life was lost today. It may not be unjustified if the ogres hunted the witches that remain."
Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not like him."
He broke eye contact, and Fiona walked away pulling up her clothes. When she tried ascending the stairs, she lost first one shoe, then the other. She sighed and shook her head, walking up the stairs and disappearing into the darkness.
Alone with Puss, Donkey turned to face him, his clooves clopping softly on the linoleum. "So what's up wichu, man? You gonna stay?"
"Of course. I would follow Fiona to the end of the earth." Puss looked at him. "And you?"
"I dunno, man; I did my thing here for years. I don't know if I want to stay another minute in this joint."
"It will not be the same environment. The ogres have welcomed you."
"It's not the ogres, man; it's the scene. I hate this place cause of him; it's tainted. You know what, I need to just chill. Think I'mma just go for a walk or somethin' and clear my head. I'll RSVP later."
Puss watched as he clopped down the hallway and through the open doors.
-x-
Fiona slid the lock into place and turned to face the interior of her room, but instead saw the sullen bedroom of a witch. It was so different. In place of a warm and cheerful fireplace, tall candelabrum had been placed near the bed; which was, as all the windows were, concealed by the curtain. The dresser was gone, but there was a door that had been absent in Fiona's childhood. She tried the knob, but the door was locked. She knocked and listened, but heard nothing; and so, deciding to confront her fears and curiosity, she found herself hunting down the key.
Looking beneath the ornate rug yielded no result, but she did discover the ogre figurine on the mantle, still laying down, its head severed from its body. Fiona briefly paused the hunt to snap the figurine together; then, pausing by the bed, she gritted her teeth and pushed the curtain aside. It was empty. Sighing in relief Fiona patted the surface, retrieving only a book. She lifted the pillow. There was no key, but she did discover a long, thin object that was heavier than it looked, and its shiny surface caught the firelight. It had a bluish-purple star at the top, which made it resemble a toy for a little girl.
Carrying the book to the light of the candles, Fiona put the magic wand on the mantle and began flipping through the thick, yellowed pages. They were all about spells and curses, and each submission credited a witch as the inventor. Fiona continued to read, wondering if her spell was listed.
She had skimmed through several pages when she decided the light was just plain horrible, and she turned to the window with the intention of opening the drapes. Instead, she found she was unable to move; rooted in place and paralyzed with fear. A white mask had materialized in the darkness and was looking at her. It was moving.
They stared at each other. Suddenly the mask's mouth lifted upward into a lipless smile. "Ah! I thought you looked familiar. I'm glad you were victorious."
Fiona stepped off to the side, allowing the candles to better illuminate what looked like a mirror. "Who...what are you?"
"I am the Magic Mirror."
Fiona considered the wand she had discovered. "Do you grant wishes? Because I've got one."
"No, sorry. That was Rumpelstiltskin's department."
Fiona shook her head. "No, it really wasn't."
The Magic Mirror gave her a compassionate nod.
"So what is your power?" Fiona inquired.
"I can appear in any mirror I want," he offered.
"Good. If you don't mind, I'd like you to advertise that Rumpelstiltskin has been...replaced."
"Sure thing, I can get started tonight," he answered, then surprised her by saying, "The key is in the fireplace."
Fiona raised her brows at him. "Are you a mind reader?"
"With all due respect, I don't have to be." The mirror's smile was apologetic as Fiona turned to the fireplace. She knelt and lifted two of the logs before finding the key. Then she stood up and turned to thank the mirror, but its surface was lifeless and normal.
Fiona went to the door and opened it, discovering a large walk-in closet filled with...her things. And her parents' things. It was not organized; it was a giant mess. But there were countless memories. Their clothing, her mother's reading glasses, her father's pipe that he had sworn to give up. Fiona's smile was bittersweet as she ransacked the shelves that held her own laundry.
Stepping back she kicked something with her heel, and she automatically looked behind her, which afforded her a glimpse of something hidden in the shadows of a fairly concealed shelf. She reached past the laundry and pulled out her mother's crown.
Fiona didn't take her eyes off of its delicate gilded frame as she laid her dress down on top of what might have been a chair beneath the mound of clothing, and she couldn't keep from crying as she turned the crown over in her hands.