A/N- I am certain that you figured out who was the killer in the last chapter. If you did not- well then…you will need to read it again. Again Edgar Allen Poe owns the idea for the Tell Tale Heart and DreamWorks Pictures owns Shrek… aka I do not.

Reviews will be read and enjoyed. Criticism will be used to help my story. Flames will be frozen with my cold lack of regard.

Chapter II- Bolsters

It was morning when Princess Fiona awoke. She yawned lightly and rolled over to hug her husband, Shrek. The hug lasted a little bit longer than a slight squeeze and then the annoyed ogress lightly slapped her stiff unresponsive husband.

"Shrek! You should be awake by now!" She said sleepily, hitting him with her pillow. The large bump under the covers did not move. "Did you die in your sleep?" Fiona teased hitting him again with her pillow.

"Fiona. I am over here." Fiona looked up from the bed and saw her husband standing by the window.

"What? I mean…how did you?" Fiona looked back down at what she had supposed was Shrek's body and sighed. The new bolster that Donkey had given Shrek for his birthday had somehow been positioned in Shrek's place.

"I went to get you a surprise last night. I wanted you to think I was still there."

At the mention of a surprise, Fiona forgot about the bolster and climbed out of the bed.

"Oh! What did you get me?"

Shrek laughed at the excited expression on his wife's face.

"It is a secret. I will tell you later." Fiona frowned but a promise was better than a denial or a refusal.

"Fine, keep your secrets." She whispered pulling the bolster out from under the covers to hit him with. Shrek caught the over stuffed pillow as it flew through the air and turned it around.

Fiona gasped as he pointed to the huge slash across its side.

King Harold hummed as he pulled his pants on. He felt so wonderful that morning that even something so mundane as dressing had a glorious feel to it.

"My, aren't we happy this morning!" Exclaimed Queen Lillian, his wife. She was sitting at her desk, writing a letter and looking at him every few seconds over her glasses.

"Lillian, dear. I feel so wonderful today. I could float!"

"By the amount of food you eat, I would never believe it." Lillian murmured under her breath.

Harold was too busy with his shoes to hear her.

"Shall we do something special together, today?" Harold asked suddenly. Lillian frowned. Something was wrong with her husband. He had not acted like an energetic teenager since… well… he had been a teenager.

"Darling, what would we do?"

"Horse back riding! Bowling! Theater! Joust!" Harold stopped only with his suggestions when he heard his wife's quill drop. He turned to find her staring at him with eyes as big…as well…bowling balls. She had gone quite pale and her eyes looked blank. Rushing over to her, Harold took her delicate hands in his.

"Lillian, what is wrong!" He soothed rubbing her hands between his. Her hands were ice cold from the early morning cold and Harold hastily went over to the balcony and shut it. Instantly the room lost some of its chill. Retaking his kneel by his wife's chair, the king looked up at her.

"You didn't!" she breathed. Harold froze. Had his wife figured out the reason for his extreme joy? Dread, needless to say, was minor compared to the emotions that rushed through the petrified and terrified monarch.