A/N: Well, this came out of nowhere. Never thought I'd be writing a Shrek fic. But this idea just sprung itself on me as we were watching the movie over dinner tonight. It's a classic in my family, among others like Spirited Away, Wayne's World and Kung Pow!. Shrek has always been my first or second favorite movie. I I did have it coming.

(No i do NOT think Shrek is sexy. He's going to be more of an "orc" in this story, much more rugged and ugly than in the movie. Think Skyrim or WoW, and you'll be closer.)

I hope someone will enjoy this!

Chapter One: Solitude

Lonely.

It might as well have been my first name. Princess Lonely, alone in her tower all her life. Grew up alone, laughed alone, cried alone. Died completely, utterly alone. What did the word even mean anymore? I'd said it too much, in my mind and then aloud.

Long, wandering conversations I had with myself, as I rearranged and dusted my room, as I cut, brushed and braided my hair, as I gazed out my only window. A current of sweltering air floated up continually from outside, and when I leaned out it pressed against me. Like it was trying to keep me in. I lay my cheek on the stone windowpane, where the warmth leeched out of my skin. The lava wind brought a blush across my face. And I stared into the sky, wondering why I was alive.

The dragon came into view sometimes. She liked to float on the air drifts over the boiling fire lake, and whenever I heard the sound of her wings I scampered over to watch her. Scintillating maroon scales she had, and great billowing wings with violet webs. I wondered if she felt protective of me, if she felt any sort of affection. If I imagined we had a special bond, it made watching her much more fun.

Every once in a while, if I was lucky, the dragon would come very close. Her presence was mighty, fiery, and thrilling. Heat radiated from in between her scales. I remember very clearly – I've gone over it in my head a hundred times – the day when she flew so close as to put her eye up to my window. The gigantic mossy green orb, with its flashing colors and fierce slash of a pupil – it terrified me. Every day after that, I wished it could happen again.

Nights were the worst. My body was not my own, and yet it was. I prowled, a monster nobody could see and fear. Nobody could feel pity for.

I clawed at the walls, howled and kicked. Some mornings, I woke with my fists pale and bloody.

For a long time I thought it lucky that my window faced the castle entrance. I could watch the rope bridge every day; sometimes it hung deathly still, and other days it swung gently back and forth, giving way to the hot wind. I grew to hate the bridge. There were never any people on it.

By the time I was twelve I wished my window faced the other way, so that I couldn't torture myself staring out at the rocks, praying to see a hint of movement.

About every week I tried the doorknob. Sort of a ceremony, it became. Sunday again? Time to try the door. Nope, still locked.

I tried every way possible to break the round, brass knob. I kicked it, again and again, until I was too exhausted to continue. I smashed it with the chair, and that's how the leg broke. I even got a stone loose from the wall, but when I finally lugged it over, it broke in two over the doorknob. Fucking door. It was magically sealed: could only be opened from the other side.

After a few years I stopped trying.

I couldn't manufacture a rope long enough to lower myself out of the window, either – not even when I tied all of my sheets and curtains end-to-end. If I jumped, I would die.

Always an option.

One winter when I must have been seven, I had my first human visitor. Raptly I watched him cross the lake, overjoyed as a little girl could possibly be. I was finally getting out!

But the knight never reached my tower. There was a lot of noise from the dragon, roaring, spitting fire. I swear I could hear the moment she slaughtered my first hero.

I cried for weeks.

There weren't a lot of nice surprises in my early life. I reckon at least a dozen knights entered my castle at some point or another. They must all still be down there.

Mid-summer of my seventeenth year, I lay nibbling a cluster of grapes on the edge of my bed, studying the mosaic floor tiles.

Where did I get the food? Indeed. My parents did one decent thing for me in my life, and that was enchanting a table in my corner so that the plates on it would fill with food every day when I woke up. It gave me a nice variety of things, vegetables and meats, and always a couple types of fruit. A huge goblet always refilled itself with water.

"On through the fog now, down to the shallow riverbed,

My paws, they ache, and I will wash this fever from my head.

Foul beast, he tricked me now! No more a hunger in his gut,

These deeds have filled the mouth that conned these open eyes to shut…"

I sang a melodious soprano into the round ceiling, with a mouth half-full of grapes. There was a slight echo, which was nicer than the dead acoustics of singing out the window. Rolling over, I dropped the grapes to the floor.

"Oh no, you never do me any favors!" I screamed into my canopy. "Whoa, oh! Just draw me a liiiine!" It was one of the only songs I knew, taught to me by a handmaid before my confinement. I'd sung thousands of variations on it – perhaps this version was for summoning demons.

"No, you never do me any faavooorrsss! But still you say – "

An earthshattering roar cut me off. Dragon. As my bed shook with the tremendous sound, I gritted my teeth.

"Oh Fuck You! Oversized lizard, you've ruined my song!"

I sat up and flipped my auburn hair over my head, then, smoothing it down, decided it was time to brush it. Padding over in bare feet, I retrieved my brush from the shelf.

It might be worth mentioning that I decided this year to stop wearing clothes. I'd gone nude for days before, but eventually I decided clothes were entirely not my style. And since nobody was ever around…

"RRRAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH," the dragon said, her thunderous voice closer to my room this time. "Shut up, Lydia," I called as I began to sort through my tangles. Sitting crosslegged on my rumpled bed, I pulled my hair over my breasts and slowly fed the brush through it. Perhaps I should cut my hair again, I pondered. Suddenly I put the brush down and cupped one boob. I jiggled it, testing. Nice bounce.

"RRRACHK!" Lydia screeched.

"What the flying fuck is it this time?!" I shouted, leaning out the window. Craning my neck, I realized she had landed atop my tower; her enormous magenta head jutted over, and stared menacingly ahead. Black smoke trailed from her nostrils. Curiously I tried following her gaze.

"Shit…" I could hardly believe it.

Somebody was crossing the bridge.

A/N: Ehh? Tell me what you think! To be continued...

Also, the song I used is Wolf Confessor by the Buried Beds. It's one of my fav songs ever, and I think it sounds like something Fiona would like to recite. C: