With closed eyes and slowed breath, Ayla had waited for Artie to close the door behind him. After what seemed an eternity, she struggled up into a half-sitting position and threw her shirt violently on the floor before, as swiftly as was manageable, Ayla began unraveling a blue scarf from around her chest until it fell away, leaving angry red marks across the expanse of her chest and back. She fell backwards onto the mattress as she gasped for air, not even caring that she was now naked from the waist up; she was just relieved to finally be divested of that death trap!

Her thoughts turned to the examination that had just happened. Ayla had taken off the blue cloth then, but she couldn't figure out, for the life of her, why she had felt such a desperate need to put it back on again! Maybe it had become something like a security blanket? Or perhaps it was because she felt so naked without it? Ayla smiled wryly at the irony of the thought as she drew the sheets up over her chest, and though she knew that she should probably pick her shirt up off the floor, it was so filthy, she couldn't really bring herself to care. It was then that she realized the scarf was still clenched in her hands. Tentatively, she moved her arms towards the end of the bed and placed it gently over the headboard. By the time her breathing evened out again, Ayla had already taken refuge beneath the rest of the bedding, with only her head peeking over the top as she stared unseeingly at the smooth, white ceiling. Though her body was exhausted, her mind was in overdrive, whirling with unanswered questions.

How was she going to provide for herself once she left this place? Was the king suspicious of her? Did he think her some kind of fugitive crook? Her eyes darted nervously to the window. And was that vile captain coming back for her? She shivered and, unsure of the exact reason for it, she kept her eyes closed until, some time later, she fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning . . .

"Hey, where's Fiona and Aunt Lillian?" Artie asked as he entered the dining room, looking around as though he expected them to pop out from behind of the paintings at any moment. Shrek grabbed a piece of toast, his face slightly darker than it had been a moment ago.

"I don't really know. Fiona didn't come back to the room last night, but I assume it's something really important."Artie looked into the ogre's gigantic eyes and nodded, knowing that they both knew what it was about, but feeling that neither one wanted to talk about it -- not yet. "So, Artie, what did ye have in mind fer your afternoon appointment?" Shrek arched an eyebrow, his trademark grin straining a little as he buttered some toast. Setting down his fork and knife, the boy, positive that there was nothing to worry about just yet, feigned a pensive look.

"Oh, you know, thought I'd go for the usual wine-dine-dash routine."

"I'm not sure yer guests'd appreciate that." Shrek paused for a moment bringing a great, green hand to his chin, "Speakin' o' guests, where's the one from yesterday?" Artie eyed him oddly. "That weird-lookin' boy."

"She's a girl, Shrek." The ogre looked confused before nodding quickly,

"Right, right. Ye told me 'bout that." He finished the toast in one large bite before continuing, crumbs spraying shamelessly over his plate. "Yeah, how's yer girl?" Refusing to rise to the bait, Artie replied evenly, though his face seemed a little pinker than usual,

"She's in the healing quarters." He thoughtfully dragged his lower lip through his teeth. "Would you mind if we visited her? She must be so -- " lonely. "Tired of that room." Phew! "Maybe she'd like to go for a walk with us." Artie looked up at Shrek expectantly. The ogre shrugged, though the young king swore he detected a hint of a knowing smile.

"Keep up this good Samaritan act and you might just get that pony, too." Artie snorted before cramming some toast into his mouth as he lead the way.

"That sounds great, mom." Though Fiona knew in her heart that this was the right decision, she couldn't help but feel a little sad. It was inexplicable, really. "But when are you going to tell Artie?" Lillian replied almost pleadingly,

"Darling, I'll find a way to explain everything. As soon as I can . . ." The older woman suddenly flung her arms around her daughter, her eyes flinging themselves shut.

"Oh, this is all happening so bizarrely!" She fought the urge to sob on the spot, something she had taken to doing that rather often these days, when she was alone. Why did everything in this place have to remind her of Harold? Fiona held on tightly, not knowing what to say but not sure if words really mattered at this point.

The two women shared a moment of tense and reflective silence before pulling away from each other. The older woman looked as though she was about to say something when two very familiar voices came down the hallway.

"So you helped Puss." Fiona and Lillian exchanged a look. "And then ended up having to pay more money? Don't feel too badly, I suspect this happens all the time."

"Thanks, Shrek." Artie's voice echoed dryly. "I really appreciate that."

Fiona raised an eyebrow at Shrek. The ogre shrugged,

"Nothing too terrible. Just reminiscin'." He suddenly paused. He could almost taste it in the air; something was amiss. "So, what are you two doing in the hallway?" The two women shared a look so subtle, it was a toss up, really, as to whether or not it had ever even happened.

"Mom wasn't sure about this wall." Fiona began, "I say she should have the tapestry changed, but mom thinks it'd be a better idea to just put another one next to it." Lillian sighed, a strange look in her winter-sky eyes,

"I just thought that, well, with Artie, here, as the new king, it would only be appropriate to mix things up a bit." At this, the boy's ears perked up. What was she talking about? "And I think this royal tapestry could really use a compliment." Artie felt his stomach clench.

"I guess you're right; it might be kind of nice to have two side-by-side." Were they still talking about tapestries or were they using them as a metaphor for - oh, god . . . They want me to get married?? At my age???

"Far Far Away has a new king now. It's only necessary that we have a little change of scenery. After all, two are better than one." For a moment, you could hear a pin drop. Just as he began to size up the approximate distance from where he was standing to the nearest exit, a thought struck him. Perhaps, by some wonderful, divine stroke of luck, he was terribly, horribly mistaken!

"Aunt Lillian, "Artie looked up at her, his green eyes wide in barely-contained panic, "Are we still talking about the tapestry?" The two women looked at him strangely as Lillian replied,

"Why, of course, dear! What ever did you think we were talking about?" The queen and her daughter shared a bemused laugh and soon Shrek joined in, albeit a little uncertainly at first. "Yes, well, I've been meaning to ask you." Artie suddenly felt his stomach plummet and his hands go sweaty. Oh god, he was not marrying some dreadful beast of a princess! Mildred of Aramis had been bad enough the first time! At this monstrous thought, Artie began to wait for the axe to fall. "How would you like -- " Artie gulped. "To have this whole place redecorated?"

The boy shook his head. Did his hearing just cut out for a second? Judging from the looks on their faces, his hearing was probably still perfect, as they were now eying him with not a little amusement. "Oh, um, sure. Sounds great."

"Right. I shall tell the servants straight away!" Lillian beamed at them. "Come on, Lillian. As Artie and Shrek are busy with their own reunion, I'm going to need your thoughts on the new drapes."

Once the two were out of earshot, Shrek smirked at his young, freckled friend. "Jeez, Artie. What ever were you thinking about?" Artie was still in shock as he replied, pale-faced,

"Who cares? Mildred of Aramis isn't coming back." As the two began to walk towards the healing quarters downstairs, Shrek asked him,

"Who's Mildred of Aramis?" Artie shuddered horribly, as though the awful feeling still hadn't properly washed off since that dinner party, though it had happened months ago. And just as the boy opened his mouth to explain, a queasy expression souring his face, Shrek grimaced. "On second thought, don't tell me." Ignorance is probably bliss.

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A/N: As you can see, I'm trying to rein in the humor again. Am I successful? Did it make you cry tears of pain? I'm open to change, so let me know! (Just keep it classy.)