Too Late

As much as Artie had hoped the family would recover from the trauma quickly, it wasn't surprising to him that no one really had. In the few days that passed things remained unchanged. He clandestinely looked around the breakfast table. Everyone was trying to be brighter and happier than they had been before; all trying to pretend everything wasn't falling apart in different ways for each of them.

The children were as cheery as usual, within reason. The previous night had brought havoc when they needed a bath after being caught hiding in the flowerbeds, the three screaming their protests about touching the water. Their parents' hollow eyes betrayed the exhaustion that followed. Neither Shrek nor Fiona seemed to have a great appetite, their own glances at each other giving away the stress they'd been experiencing. Artie had encountered snippets of arguing coming from their room a couple of times, he'd always hurry past. His aunt had even asked if he knew more about their situation. She was sucked into the drama, but wasn't quite a part of it. Her concern only growing for the family. Elena had finally stopped staring at his cousin, Artie feared it was only because her own problems were growing. The pair spent limited, allotted periods of time together; a stroll around the garden, a tour of the castle, a ride around the kingdom. It was never quite what they expected, the awkwardness only growing as they ran out of things to say. Not that it dampened Elena's enthusiasm to try. She was always incredibly happy to make plans and meet with him, he tried to match, but he couldn't. His mind was mostly elsewhere anyway. He'd barely had time to see his friends, Abbey mostly avoided him since their conversation, that also being a worry on his mind. His meetings about capturing the witch had become more and more frequent, the kingdom was on high alert, he didn't have much time to think about things.

Except meal times, he did. Conversation was small most of the time, unless Donkey was there. That particular morning, he was. Though the king could tell that most were ignoring him. He had even invited his children. It was an argument to allow them in the castle; their havoc constantly being complained about. Still, Artie could hardly hurt Donkey's feelings and it did something to liven up the group. Elena had been nothing short of terrified when they first arrived, though, she was getting used to the surprise oddities of his family. Her fear had only settled into her usual discomfort. For once she even seemed happy to sit in it, seeing that others around the table were less than enthused about the additions too.

The dronkies managed to stay still for the majority of the meal, but were soon airborne.

"Daddy!" they all chirped around their father, "Let's show everyone our tricks!"

The triplets were the most excited about their honorary cousins, they were climbing up on their chairs, jumping, trying to catch them. Donkey laughed, Shrek groaned, and Fiona instructed the children to not hold onto the hybrids, they weren't allowed to fly here.

"Go for it, kids! They've been practising!" Donkey was proud of them.

The animals darted around the room, doing loop-de-loops, twirls, spinning in the air, each having a signature move. The chandelier in the room swinging and spinning itself, he could hear his aunt gasping a little, watching the ornate ceiling piece. It was nothing short of chaos, of course. The chaos perfectly encouraged by their father. Donkey also being the only one one-hundred per cent enjoying the spectacle too. Artie couldn't help but look at Elena's reaction. She seemed horrified at it all. The king couldn't help but smirk. If the dronkies were guests around the table too much he was sure there wouldn't even be a wedding in the end. Though, the princess suddenly met his gaze, a small smile slipped onto her face too. They laughed a little, releasing the tension. However, the moment was short lived. As expected, there were unexpected flames. The hybrids hadn't entirely learned how to control themselves. The worst offender being the one named Bananas. His sneezes had been disastrous for a couple of areas in the garden.

The animals began weaving around everyone sitting at the table, whipping up the triplets into more of an excited frenzy. Artie even began to laugh at it. He looked at the next dronkey to cross him, only to see Bananas, nose screwed up about to sneeze. The king gasped, flinching and throwing his arms in front of his face.


The burning pain in his arm was switching between unbearable and barely manageable. He gingerly looked down to the burns. He had been told by the doctor that they weren't bad. They just needed cold water baths and ice. It had been a couple of hours. His family had left, his friends were busy. He was in the sitting room alone. He wanted to leave, wander, do something to distract himself but they told him someone was coming by with more cold water. The wait was growing more excruciating by the second. He was starting to think he disliked his family visiting, everyone's attention was constantly elsewhere. He finally stood, he could find someone himself. He wanted to find his aunt, she always doted on him. He figured he replaced Fiona in that regard, when she was away of course. But Lillian had plans with Fiona and Elena. She had offered to stay when the doctor came to investigate but he shook away her kindness. He didn't want to seem like he needed her in front of Elena. Artie said he could handle it himself, at least he thought he could at the time. Trying to stop his jittering, he walked quickly out of the room-

"Ah!" he almost bumped right into Abbey, carrying a large bowl of ice water. With the movement of her startle, some of it spilled over the edge, landing on her skirt, dripping onto her foot.

"That's cold," her eyes were wide.

"I'm sorry," Artie couldn't help but smirk, leading her back into the room.

She looked down at herself, careful to steady the water she held, "Now it looks like I peed myself, thanks," she laughed.

They laughed together for a moment. He sat back into the chair. It quickly faded to silence. It wasn't the comfortable silence they'd grown used to. It was odd.

"Here," Abbey laid a bowl of cold water on the table in front of him. She gently took hold of his skin, careful not to touch the damaged area. Her fingers were like ice from where she had been handling the water, it sent tingles through his arm to his shoulder and made him shudder. She bit back a smile as she lowered his arm into the water bowl.

"That feels better," the king breathed his relief, forcing out a chuckle.

She straightened, and walked to the other side of the room, scooping more water into a pitcher. It briefly made both of them smile. Their friend's playful mocking in mind whenever anyone approached one of the water pitchers, but neither of them commented or joked about it. Their smiles faded, the silence only growing more awkward. She was doing her job, he reminded himself. They were in a living room, it was public, anyone could enter. They couldn't laugh and joke openly like they normally did. A king wasn't supposed to be friends with his servants. He could feel his face fall. She turned back, instructing him to lift his arm again. She didn't touch him. She knelt down beside where he sat. The maid dipped the cloth in the cold water in silence. Artie watched her, a pained expression over his face, not just because of the burns.

"Abbey..."

"I'm sorry," she spoke over him, "I'm sorry for the other day. I'm sorry I ran off," she was quiet. She smoothed the freezing cloth gently over his skin, the king winced. "I'm sorry if this hurts too."

"No, it-it's fine, don't worry about it, about all of it."

The pair lapsed back into silence, she sat back on her heels, wiping her hands on her apron. She didn't meet his eyes, fiddling with her fingers instead. He could feel the heat slowly intensifying on his arm as his skin warmed the cloth. He tried to ignore it.

"You always have your hair up," he spoke the first thing that came into his mind, just to break the silence.

"I have to, for work," she looked at him incredulously for a moment, she almost smiled.

"I know... I mean, even when you go home or to town on your days off, I see you. You wear your hair up," he explained himself, concentrating on his words rather than the pain.

"Oh..." she smiled politely, "I never really wear it down, everyone says I look like my cousin Alice. I'm not sure I want to be associated with her ever since she went a little mad."

They laughed, though it faded. "Really? I think... I think you'd look nice."

She took a hesitant glance to the doorway before carefully lifting her arms and untying the ribbon that kept her hair secured. It fell in golden, wavey locks around her shoulders. She gave him a small, self-conscious smile.

The king shrugged, "You look just like Abbey to me," he grinned. It made her smile genuinely, she giggled. She was beautiful. Not the Elena kind of beautiful, the perfectly made up, perfectly made out, coordinated kind. She was effortless. He couldn't take his eyes off of her for a moment. Though his movement and distraction made the cloth slip off of his arm, the friction burning his skin. He sucked in a pained breath, clutching as near as he dared to the raw skin.

Abbey jumped forward, grabbing the cloth from the ground, "Oh no, I'm sorry... I should've been watching..." she splashed it back into the cold water, ringing it out quickly.

"No... No, that was totally my fault," Artie spoke between clenched teeth. She gently laid the cloth back against his arm. It began to slip, Artie reflexedly jolted his other hand to stop it from moving, but the maid had the same idea. Their hands met, her touch almost made him jump. "Oh!" he gingerly pulled his hand away, as did she. He could see her cheeks flushing and he could feel his own face reddening.

"Oh look," she gestured to the white cloth, there were tiny specks of dirt on it from the floor, "I should get you a new one," she began to move away.

"No it's fine. Honestly. You can't even see it," Artie laughed awkwardly. She considered him for a moment. Her eyes drifted to the open door. She sighed, leaning closer to him again. She began carefully picking out the dirt specks. Artie realised she didn't want someone to come in and see. She'd get in trouble for giving him something unclean. He almost wanted to roll his eyes at the expectations. He watched her for a moment. Her hair fell from behind her ear, into her face.

She smiled, "That's why I have to put it up," she spoke as a way of explanation. Though, as she looked to her hands they were wet.

"Here," he moved before he could even think about what he was doing. He leaned a little closer so he could get her hair and tuck it behind her ear in place again. Her hair was smooth to touch, he could feel her freeze as he did so. He slowly and awkwardly pulled his hand back to his side. He didn't regret his decision but felt like an idiot all the same. Though, Abbey didn't move, she didn't recoil, she didn't scowl at him. She was just frozen, she bit her lip.

He blinked a little, taking a gulp of air, "Abbey... if all of those things do happen... I'll miss you, like, a lot."

She gently nodded, her gaze rose up to meet his, "I'll miss you too... a lot."

Their faces were so close, he almost couldn't breathe. He glanced down to her lips. They were just a little parted. She still didn't move. He could tell she was thinking the same thing. Not that the king was really thinking, his head was screaming at him to do it, to not do it, to do something. Everything was a muddle. He had been brave recently, very brave. He figured he could be braver. Artie's breath caught in his throat a little before he spoke, lowering his voice, "Abbey, would you... uh... do you mind if I kissed you?"

"Not at all," she whispered with barely a hesitation.


Fiona politely sat up straight, her legs folded, holding the little teacup. It was strange how all the royal lessons came flooding back to her being in that body. She was also a little self-conscious of the girl she was in the presence of. She was the storybook princess Fiona once thought she was going to be. Elena's endless staring at Fiona were hardly friendly, though the girl's fixed gazes were becoming less frequent now that time had passed. Still, Fiona didn't want to embarrass herself in front of the newcomer. If Shrek had been there, she wouldn't have felt so much pressure. But her mother was practically perfect in every way, this newcomer would definitely compare the pair of them. Fiona could already tell she would get along with Lillian more than herself. Which was ideal, as it was Lillian she would be spending the most time with. Not that Fiona was entirely comfortable with that.

"What about your daughter?" Elena asked innocently to her, filling the silence.

Fiona couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Felicia trying to sit and be quiet, "She's with her brothers."

"She's only four years old," Lillian spoke with mirth in her voice.

There was a pause, the princess seemed confused. "I have long ago memories of sitting with my mother as a small child, practising etiquette," she continued.

Fiona remembered the same. But things were different with her children. The quality time with the triplets often involved a lot of mess and laughter. Felicia hadn't ever been expected to sit perfectly and be a princess. Fiona was both dreading and couldn't wait for the time when that training would begin, mainly just to see her daughter's reaction. "Felicia would never have the patience for this, not now, not in ten years," Fiona smirked, taking another quiet sip.

"Of course Felicia will have training," her mother politely corrected the princess, "But it isn't needed quite yet and not in the same depth."

Elena nodded. The same depth not needed because Elena's own children would take the pressure of the throne off of the triplets. The silent understanding of that seemed to take the young princess by surprise. Her emotion soon faded, she adjusted the way she sat, "It must have been strange," Elena smiled politely, "The both of you so different." She changed the subject completely.

Fiona met her mother's eyes. The subject in question shocked her a little. Donkey told them that he'd explained the whole story to the new princess, of course she'd have questions, Fiona just didn't expect them so soon. Still, this was a question Fiona couldn't answer, her mother and everything remained the same for her.

"A surprise," Lillian ventured, "It took a little getting used to the permanence," her words were careful, but Fiona had no doubt they were truthful. "But Fiona is my daughter no matter what."

Fiona smiled at her mother appreciatively. Her move to simply embrace ogrehood had been a little selfish on her part. But children couldn't live to please their parents. Fiona chose what made her happiest. Her parents got used to it. "It doesn't change anything," Fiona added.

"Of course," Elena seemed to understand, "There is nothing like a mother's love after all," she nodded.

Fiona's brow creased a little. She was aware of Elena's past, it made her want everything to work out all the more. From an outsider's perspective this seemed great, Lillian would have more company, another person to fuss over day-to-day. Elena would gain a mother-like figure in her life, but not a mother-in-law to replace the memories of her own. But, things weren't as happy as everyone wanted them to be. Especially Elena. Fiona could see the lost look on her face. She was sat quietly. Fiona met her mother's eyes, she hesitated for a moment. They could make small talk but there was something much more pressing in Fiona's mind, "Elena... Are you sure about this?"

"Fiona," Lillian's chastising voice was quiet. Her mother was much more invested in the kingdom, despite seeming a little curious herself. Fiona, however, had been a part of a similar situation and remembered vividly how excruciating those short hours had been.

Elena was shocked by her question, she blinked at the former ogress before she could part her lips to answer, "What-What do you mean?" she forced a small chuckle into her question.

"I mean, do you really want to marry Artie?" Fiona asked bluntly.

"Of course," her response was too quick.

"I've been there," Fiona remained serious, "being queen sounds great, this kingdom is amazing," she gushed, "But being true to yourself is more important than that." Elena was silent, taking in her words. "Marriage is forever. If the thought of being with Artie forever doesn't fill you with joy, don't do it. Take it from two people who married out of love," she gestured to her mom, who nodded quietly from her seat.

Elena seemed to compose herself quickly, she narrowed her eyes a little, "Arthur's and my arrangement is different, yes, but I would not have agreed if I didn't have hope for us to fall in love."

It was a convincing argument for sure, but Fiona wasn't done, "I saw the way you looked at Felix. He saved you. You felt that connection. I know what that connection is," the princess wouldn't give up until the girl understood. She hung her head. Fiona's voice softened, "Hey, someone will make you feel that way again, I promise. It might be Artie, but it might not. It's your call. But if you're going to marry him, you need to be confident about it. You need to want it," she smiled hopefully at her as Elena met her gaze again. "Talk to him, he'll understand."


"Elena, I apologise so so much for everything that's happened, but I think it's best if you went home," Artie whispered to himself as he crossed the castle, "Princess, I know things got really terrible, but this kingdom attracts that kind of stuff, it's a magnet for trouble, you know... Do you really want to be the queen of a disaster magnet?" he shook his head, "Elena... We're not great together, at all. We need to face it, we should probably just forget everything," he sighed, "And hey, here's some trade deals and free therapy to get over everything that's happened in the meantime."

The king looked out into the gardens. Elena was wandering beside some of the flower displays, she hadn't spotted him yet. He took a breath and cautiously stepped outside. It was a perfect day, as usual in his kingdom. The sun felt like fire on his pained arm. He carefully pulled down the sleeve on his tunic. He tried his best to shake the pain away and kept walking over to her.

"Good afternoon," she smiled hesitantly at him as he approached. She held a purple flower she had picked in her fingers, "How is your arm?"

"It's um... it's fine," he tugged at his sleeve, the fabric was too close to his skin and made him flinch a little every time it moved. He shrugged, "Nothing really, not anymore," he lied, brushing it off. Perhaps that would have made a good conversation point if they didn't have anything to say. But, for once, he did.

"I'm glad," her smile seemed forced, "I was speaking to your aunt and cousin..." she turned a little away from him, pausing.

The pleasant small talk was making his head feel like it was about to burst. He took another breath, interrupting what she was going to say, "Elena," he mustered all the courage he could, "I-I have something to say..."

She looked back to him, the corners of her mouth drooping, "So do I," she watched him with sad eyes.

Surprise alighted within him, she looked sad. As if the news would be negative. "Oh... Well you can go first," he tried to not sound eager.

She offered a hesitant smile, "I'm afraid things went terribly wrong," she began, "Of course everything was a disaster with the witch and the children, but I mean with my feelings," she looked past him, her eyebrows knitting. She placed a gentle hand on her chest.

"Oh, really?" Artie feigned nonchalance. Her words were hopeful, he held onto that hope as tight as he could.

"Yes," she nodded gravely, "I foolishly let my heart be led astray by a complete stranger. I'm sorry," she met his eyes, tears were sparkling in hers. She twiddled the flower she held in her fingers. He knew she was referring to Felix. The jealousy no longer present, it was everything he wanted her to say. She continued despite her distress, "I'm not sure why, well he saved my life of course, but there was no way we would be compatible," she offered another smile, "I've realised that now."

The hope Artie was feeling slid from his grasp, his face fell.

"He was just a common person, who was living with a witch. It was a fantasy," her words were brave. He could tell it was taking a lot for her to say them. But it only meant it would take more for him to tell her what he needed to say. He regretted not going first. Her eyes met his, she was waiting for a response.

"That's okay," he spluttered, "I totally get it! I mean, he was tall and handsome, and he could fly. And I'm just-I'm just me," he hurried through his speech, gesturing to himself, wrinkling his nose.

She giggled at him, it wasn't the response he wanted. "You're a king, and I'm a princess. We're a much better fit, Artie," her cheeks blushed, she looked away, twiddling the flower once again.

Artie couldn't breathe for a moment. Had the present conversation happened on the ship he would have been over the moon. But now, it just felt like he had been winded.

"Uh-" he gulped, nodding slowly. For a second he almost went along with it. His mind told him to just agree with her, perhaps it would be the time to kiss her. It was promising for the marriage they had agreed on, for the good of his kingdom. But he stopped himself. He pulled bravery from somewhere he thought was non-existent, "Elena... I still have something to tell you..." he hesitated. She nodded at him, brows creasing in concern. She was twiddling the flower, indicating her nerves. It made him want to back out again. He couldn't.

He opened his mouth to deliver the news, or something, but the flower fell from her hands, "Oh!" she exclaimed quietly. Artie immediately lowered himself to the ground to pick it up, thankful for the release of the tension. He lifted it, looking at her, he was about to stand when he heard a sudden squeal from a woman in the distance.

"The King is proposing!" she yelled, "King Arthur is proposing!"

Artie suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. He was frozen, crouched down, holding the flower towards the princess. His eyes were wide, he could hear more voices getting closer, mumbling, giggling.

"Propose to me," Elena's voice was stern and urgent yet incredibly quiet. She was mustering a pretty smile.

He looked out in mute horror as people were gathering in the distance. A camera even flashed. She was right. He had no choice. Not in front of other people. He couldn't tell the princess he intended to marry that he was in love with someone else. Not in front of everyone. Not after everything that had happened. He turned his gaze to her. She looked like she wanted to cry through her façade. This isn't how she wanted a proposal to happen, he was disappointing her yet again. So he held the flower higher, "This is exactly what I was going to say," he pulled confidence into his voice, like he did when he addressed crowds and other important people. She looked shocked, eyes widening.

He cleared his throat hesitantly, "Elena..." They were in a pretty place amongst the gardens, flowers surrounding them. It wasn't exactly an odd place to be proposing to her. The only reason she wouldn't believe him was because he didn't have a ring. "Elena," he started again, "I'm not exactly the most prepared, I never really am. But I needed to know your answer," that sliver of hope came back, perhaps she would say no, despite everything she just confessed, "I was wondering if you'd like to marry me?" he forced out the words, feeling himself blush awkwardly.

She took the flower from his hand and seemed to contemplate it for a second, her smile fading for just a moment. "Yes," the corners of her mouth tugged upwards, "Yes I would like to marry you."

The dread swept through the young adult as the consequences of his actions seemed to hit him full force. He struggled to maintain a smile, he was sure he looked ridiculous and forced. He shakily stood, his legs growing a little numb. Elena was smiling, watching him. She bit her lip. If he didn't do something people might question his actions. Gulping, he took hold of her arms. He didn't have to pull her towards him, she moved closer herself, putting her hands on his chest. It seemed strange that she knew exactly what she was doing and yet he seemed clueless despite everything that happened that day. He leaned down so that their lips met. For a second he thought he would have to break the kiss and excuse himself to throw up, but with everyone watching, he desperately held himself together. It would have been a little romantic, except breathing while mildly hyperventilating was incredibly difficult when attached to someone else's face. He breathlessly drew the kiss to a close. He looked at her with wide eyes, trying to take steady gulps of air.

"Are you okay?" Elena asked quietly, smile fading a little.

"Uh-yeah, sure," he forced the smile back, "I-I didn't expect an audience."

She briefly looked to them, "There's nothing wrong with an audience," she laughed lightly.

Right, he realised, under normal circumstances perhaps not. Especially to a royal who had been a royal their whole life... and this being normal circumstances. "Oh," she looked to her empty hand. She had dropped the tiny flower again while they kissed. She giggled sweetly at him. She wanted him to pick it up again. In the back of his mind he realised he could make a joke about round two and hoping it would go better. Again, the realisation hit him that he should be doing that with the woman who risked everything to leave her home, almost die, to become his wife. He shakily knelt back down to pick up the flower. It was a little crumpled, he should probably pick her a new one, his mind told him. The guilt washed over him, not only for Elena, but for Abbey too. He had wronged both of them, in the same day. He knew there was no easy way to fix it. His thoughts were fleeting. He stood and the dizziness hit him, black spots swept over his vision, the ringing in his ears grew loud and he fainted.


AN: Just realised how many times people faint in this story... What even, Hannah...?