Authors note: 1) This is my first Shrek fanfiction – so be gentle. 2) It takes place immediately after Shrek2 3) It is Queen Lillians point of view. 4) I am used to (and rather depressingly good at) writing drama or angst or tragedy. So this is probably the only "not funny" Shrek fanfiction. 5) The ships are definitely the same as in the films, meaning Lillian/Harold and Fiona/Shrek.

The party is over now. Finally! To me it seemed to have taken decades. True, I never have been a fan of festivities. Neither was Harold. When she was a child, we used to give parties (at daytime) for Fiona, but nowadays we have no reasons for wild, glamorous festivals. Except of course the marrriage of our only child.

Now that all the guests are gone, the castle seems strangely empty. No loud, chattering, distracting noises. I wonder if I could let my façade drop, just enough to cry. I think about my family, the only people I love. But is "people" really the suitable expression?

It is not as if I have got many prjudices. I tell them I do not mind.

But I do! I do mind that my only child, my beloved daugther, the only heir of our kingdom has willingly chosen to live as an ogre, being married to an ogre, isolated in a far away swamp. It may seem I lack caring for Fiona, because I let her be locked up alone in a tower at such a young age. But I did love her, every day, every second, I thought about her, I wondered how she was and I missed her. And when it all got too much I told myself about this being the only way to break the horrible curse. Now see how that turned out!

And I do mind that my husband has been changed back into a frog. All these years it had been easy to hide and forget about that fact. The only time we actually talked about it, was when we decided not to tell our daughter.

Unlike so many princesses I had married out of love. Now Harold might posess quite a lot of negative traits, like his hot temper, his secrecy and his bad judgement, which had only gotten worse with age, but he is a good and loyal husband as well as a caring father. Or rather was. I know the transformation has not changed his brain or heart, which makes it even harder.

How can I look at this small green toad with his beard, his crown and his soulfull brown eyes without seing my husband?

"Lillian" his voice pulls me out of my reverie. I look to my right, half-expecting him to stand there and frown at me. Which of course, he does not do! I look down to see the small frog sit on the floor. I hesitate. "I understand" he takes a sad hop away. Does he really? I scoop him up with my hands and settle him gently onto my lap. "You do know that I am sorry." I do.

"Are you mad at me?" "No" True enough, I am not. Actually it was rather brave what he did. I had never before considered Harold much of a hero. Only why should he pay so dearly for the only heroic deed in this life? Makes me not wonder any longer how come heroes are rare nowadays!

"Do you want something to eat?" I ask him. "No" "Anything else?" I know how awkward that question sounds and I do know the answer. "I want you to be happy." The honest reply catches me with surprise. Harold has never been much of a charmer. But there are times when his comments make me feel like the most beautiful, clever and beloved woman.

I smile just a bit as I stroke his wet back. "Do you think there might be a chance of cure?" his false hopefullness asks. "No" I feel bad, like the cold, hard realist I am.

"What you said earlier, was it true? Or was it just to keep on your façade in front of our daughter, our son-in-law and our kingdom? Could you really love me this way? Even if I am doomed to remain a frog for all time?" His voice holds that certain cynical tone he sometimes gets.

I look down at that green creature that watches me with his eyes. "I do love you" It would be so much easier if I didnt.

I yawn silently, a queens yawn. "You should go to bed" he suggests. I stare at the pretty double bed we have always shared. Again I think of all the queens who hide in their seperated bedrooms, trying to see the least possible of their husbands. They have often envied me. Not for Harold, most cant stand him, but for my love and devotion to him.

His brown eyes keep staring at our double bed too. He sighs "I will sleep on the chair" "No" I seem to say this certain word quite often tonight. He hopefully glances up at me. "You are still my husband" As if that were an argument. I place him onto the soft bedsheets and start undressing myself.

Breakfast the next morning is...awkward, even more, if that is possible, than the first. Harold sits on the table, where usually his seat would be and slurps his soup. Shrek simply stares at him. Fionas watchful gaze swings from her father to me and back.

"Ahem...Mom, Dad" she softly breaks the silence. "Yes, dear" I answer as if on cue. "We were wondering,...we thought about..." she stammers slightly. "We want to return to our swamp today" my direct, ogrig, son-in-law firmly states. Fiona shyly nods. "But only if it is fine with you? I mean, if you can manage?" I look at Harold. He sadly drops his gaze. I understand him. I feel the same way. But do we deserve any better? Our daughther leaves us in our despair just as we sent her away when she was a child. Even worse, she does not know it. Fiona still lives in her little fairy-tale world and believes there will be a happy end for everyone. How could we possibly destroy that?

"Of course, darling" Harold croaks. We rise from the table, I carry my husband. "We will visit as soon as we can" is just a phrase, however well-meant. I shake Shreks huge, green hand and he waves at my husband. Our daughter hugs me tightly and I lean into the familiar touch, knowing it will be the last in a long time. When she finally pulls away and faces her father a small tear escapes her eye. She never has been as good as me concerning self-control.

"Bye, dad" she runs her green fingers over his equally green back, then turns around. I watch them walk out of our castle, watch how the talkative donkey jumps into their direction with the "not-any-longer" assassian puss-in-boots riding on his back and watch how she once again walks out of our lives.

Next to my private "my husband is a frog" I also have the public "the king is a frog" problem to deal with. I know his brain has not suffered, the words, the plans, the ideas are still his, but he can not write letters or show himself in public any longer. Far-far away is not very tolerant, which might me partly our own fault – cut into our own flesh. At the party there was not much of a problem in the king "going" as frog. But as a permanents solution a "frog-king" seems to be out of question. So I will have to play the wise but cunning queen.

Still I can hear their talking. "Poor woman, husband a frog, daughter an ogre – how long will this kingdom survive." As long as I live! Giving up is not an option!

Authors second note: So? What do you think? I want to inspire everyone to pity the poor little frog-king. Not to mention his lovely queen. If they seem OOC, remember, they are under extreme circumstances. As am I! So do review! Thanks!