Disclaimer: I don't own Shrek.
Chapter 1
All was quiet outside the Poison Apple, though the sinister notes of the piano drifted through the walls and into the street. Princess Fiona pulled her cloak tighter around her, making sure her hood was covering most of her face. She looked around the empty street nervously, clearing her throat roughly for the thousandth time. She had to make it raspy so that no one would recognize it - which was difficult. She spoke in a lyrical soprano, and learning to mask it was hard. But it was necessary. She knew now what a huge mistake revealing her... other half could be.
Before she lost her courage completely, she pried the creaky door open with her olive-green fingers and stepped inside. There was a low hum of chatter from the patrons, exhaustion hanging in the air. She walked straight up to the bar; remembering which stool made the least amount of noise, she sat down.
"What can I get ya?" a deep, husky voice asked. She already knew it was the ugly stepsister - what was her name? Ginger? Doris? It didn't matter.
"Whiskey," Fiona said, the scratch of her voice burning her throat. "Straight." There was a deep rumbling noise, and after a moment Fiona realized the ugly stepsister was chuckling.
"It's alright, sweetheart, you don't need to pretend. I know who you are." Fiona's gut twisted into knots, and she ran her hand over her smooth auburn braid. "Is it that obvious?" she asked. She glanced around, waiting to see if anyone would look up and gasp. But everyone was busy talking, and listening to the somber tune Captain Hook played at the piano. He's pretty good, Fiona thought, for a guy with no hands. Suddenly, the ugly stepsister set the glass of whiskey down in front of her with a clink. She gripped the glass and swished its contents around, making a whirlpool at the bottom.
"Maybe not to anyone else, but I know you. Ella babysat you a few times, don't you remember? Ugh, you're making me feel old." Fiona's lips curved up the tiniest bit, and she savoured the burn of the whiskey as it went down. She used to cough and sputter after emptying the glass, but it slid down her throat easily now. After slamming it back onto the counter, she tapped her fingers, the green monstrosities, on the bar. The ugly stepsister was already reaching for the bottle before Fiona could ask for more.
"What I don't understand," Fiona said, "is why they don't just tell everyone. Wouldn't that be so much easier? People wouldn't react so terribly, would they?" The ugly stepsister surely knew it was a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway.
"Wouldn't they? Honey, who do you see in this bar," she poked the top of the counter with her finger, "that you see with your father every day?" Fiona sighed, taking a sip out of her newly filled glass.
"No one," she said.
"Exactly. He knows it'd be hell for you. He doesn't want that. Think about it - you don't belong here. Look at these losers." Fiona raised her head, glancing around the room of hardworking alcoholics, dwarves, thieves - she knew she had no place with them. But where else could she go? "Your father just wants the best for you. And trust me, pumpkin," she chuckled huskily, "this isn't it." Fiona grumbled incoherently to nobody in particular before nodding in agreement. As she reached for the money in her pocket, the ugly stepsister placed a warm hand fearlessly on her shoulder. "It's on the house, kid. Now, get home, before your old man finds out and has me beheaded." Fiona giggled a bit, and it felt like razors jabbing her throat. Before she left, she dropped a few shillings into Captain Hook's hat; she had never heard a tune so somber and delightful at the same time.
When he smiled at her, a few gold teeth shining in the torchlight of the bar, she returned it.
It was well past midnight when she got back to the castle. Careful not to disturb anyone, she slipped through the front gates quietly and entered the large foyer. She could feel the warmth that spread through the castle, and heard the crackling in the next room that meant there was a fire going.
"Well, you're home late." She nearly jumped out of her skin at her mother's soft voice, her hood flying off her head.
"I'm... I'm sorry, mom." Her voice was still raspy, and she imagined it smelled of whiskey. When the queen stepped around the corner and into the foyer, Fiona made sure to keep her distance. "It's alright, dear," she replied with a heavy sigh. Her mother knew, better than anyone, how hard it was for Fiona. By night, one way, by day, another... "But you need to be back earlier. Your father was going to check on you—I had to pretend I was feeling ill just to keep him busy. You owe me one." Fiona smiled; subconsciously, she admired her mother's still-youthful face, alit in the oil lantern she held in her hand.
"Thanks, mom." The queen broke into a warm grin, but it quickly turned into a grimace. "Dear God, Fiona—have you been drinking?" Fiona's head drooped in shame, and it made her dizzy. "Go to sleep, now. You've got a big day tomorrow." She nodded at her mother, feeling disgraceful tears burning in her eyes. As she scurried to her bedroom, she pulled out her diary, flipping to the newest page.
But what could she write that she hadn't written already? She realized she wasted most of this journal with Prince Charming's name scrawled across the pages, little drawings of them on their wedding day filling up the lines. She shoved it back in her music box, flopping down onto her bed. When she wiped away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks, the moonlight made her skin glisten green. She sighed as she realized it wouldn't go away for a long time… Thus shall be the norm.
She took a breath as the last words of her curse echoed in her head.
'Til you receive true love's kiss; then, take love's true form.