Authors note: I dont own them. Sonja, this chapter is for you, because of rather urging me to write it. Hope you like it! The rest of you too, of course.
I want Harold to be raging mad. To shout and jump and be angry with me (or at least with Lance). To get all worked up over everything. To redden and behave like Rumpelstilzchen. To go on ranting about it forever. As he used to do. As he does not react any longer.
Instead he looks at me out of these brown eyes and I want to cry. I feel bad as I try to justify to myself that I did nothing wrong. Damned Lance! I cross my arms, trying to appear stern and in control. It does not work. I want to hold his gaze but have to drop my eyes looking at the polished stone floor instead.
Finally, after an eternity, he speaks. "What did Lance want?" Why does he ask? He knows the answer as much as I do. But it is so like him. Having to hear the truth no matter what. Keeping secrets to himself but always wanting to know all from the others.
"He asked me to marry him." Cold, hard fact. No need to talk about the bush.
"And what did you answer?" It hurts. I know it is his right to ask this question. But it still hurts. I think how a year ago he never would have asked such a thing. How far must we have grown apart, for him to doubt my devotion to him? How much have we changed? Of course things got worse with age, but 25 years of marriage were nothing in comparision with the last months.
I know I should reply "No, of course, what else." But I do not. Because his doubts do hurt me.
"What do you think I have answered?" Now he is in the process of interested floor-staring.
"I honestly do not know any longer." I tell myself not to cry, no tear will be shedded, not one.
"I told him to return to his castle, alone and better not come back to our kingdom." I heavily sit down on the bed. Suddenly I feel so tired of everything. I softly close my eyes.
Silence. "I would have understood, you know." What an interesting floor. My husband has just told me that he would have understood if I had went off with and married another man.
I rise. I turn and stare at him. "I never knew you thought that badly of me. Which kind of woman, of wife do you think I would be to do such a thing? Oh, my husband, the king of one kingdom has been turned into a frog, lets not face the problems but run off with another king instead and get my second kingdom. You tell me you understand, Harold. But you do not. And when you say such a thing I might believe you never have."
And for the first time in our marriage, it is I who furiously leaves our bedroom.
Riding has always cleared my mind. I saddle my white (typically princess) horse and gallop off into the forest. I do not know for how many hours I go on like this, trying not to think, not to feel, except for the wind in my hair, not to see, except the woods and the lake. But it does not help.
I return to the castle. I search for my husband. He is nowhere to be found. "Where is my husband?" I ask the servants. None of them know.
Again I take my horse and off we go. I am worried and I keep turning my head in search. An idea hits my mind. "No, not the lake, not the lake" I repeat the mantra to myself as I swiftly ride towards the lake.
There he sits, on a leaf in the middle of the lake, having removed the crown from his head. Two female frogs (I can tell by the way they keep on gossiping, gesturing towards my husband and laughing) are chatting on the shore. Brown eyes keep staring at me. "Leave me alone." He sulks. "No." He looks so out of place in the middle of that lake and still fits in so much more than into the castle. "You do not belong here." I assure him. He laughs dryly. I never thought a laugh could be so sad.
"Maybe not. But neither do I belong into that castle." He silently adds "And least I belong into our bed next to you." He has hit his lowest now. 25 years has he spent on creating an era of self-consciousness, of royality and ego, only to loose it all now.
"You are wrong." What else can I say? I look around the silent lake. Watch the two female frogs for once being quiet in order to watch and listen to us. "You cant really believe that this" I wave at the lake "is what you deserve, that these" I nod into the direction of the curious female frogs "are your life companions."
"I do not want your pity!" Of course I do pity him. "It is not pity, Harold. I love you. You do know that." I am not sure he actually believes my words. But all that matters at the moment is that he jumps off the leaf and swims towards the shore. I gather him up with my hands and we ride back to the castle.
Finally some happy news. It is almost too good to believe it! If I were less of a queen I would run. So I walk, to our main living room, very briskly. In my right hand I tightly clutch a postcard. On the front there is a photograph, showing the smiling faces of our daughter, her husband, puss-in-boots (with a pretty black cat at his side), donkey (also his dragon and the 5 already grown crossovers) and many other fairytale characters in the background (I spotted Pinocchio, the Gingerbread man, and the three little pigs gathered around the wolf). But I mostly was fascinated by Fionas stomach which had grown quite a lot and not due to too many sweets.
"Harold, we got a letter from Fiona, listen" I burst into the room. He looks up from the complaint letter he has been reading. Another one from Queen Snowwhite who tells him to move off the throne and let her husband reign instead, I can see at first sight. "You should not read those" I snatch up the letter and rip it apart. Not very noble, but try to be civil when you have already received 47 of the sort.
He frowns, but I am too happy to worry about it. "Now listen" I start reading the postcard aloud.
"Dear mom and dad; How are you doing? Shrek and I are fine. Puss has finally found himself the cat for life and donkey has turned into a devoted father. And Shrek will be one too, soon. I am pregnant, due on the 1st of July. I am hoping for a little girl, but I know Shrek is looking forward to a son (although he does not say so). We are so happy and I hope you are too. I promise to visit as soon as our baby is old enough to travel! Greetings from Shrek, donkey and puss-in-boots. Love, your daughter Fiona."
"Isnt it wonderful. We are going to become grandparents". I smiled. And for once Harold seems happy too.
Authors 2nd note: Am I not nice? For once I gave Lillian and Harold some reason to be happy (well at the end at least). But do not think: happy finally. Not to worry, It is going to become even more depressing. I got something very cruel planned. Sadistic me!
