A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Seriously loving them over here and they also give me new ideas to think over and give my writing more depth. I thought about trying to come up with a few ideas on how Rumpel would've dealt with Fairy Godmother and all that, but it was a bit too much legwork for something I wrote on a whim. I'm not much of a writer, so nothing is exactly planned but just... whatever comes out. Maybe in the future when I can just write loads of chapters with no updates in between, I might dive into that with a more political feel to it other than just vague impressions. Hell, I've even wanted to write in my own version Rumpel's back story, but... again, too much legwork where I already have to write in brief stories of AU!Fiona. I hope you enjoy and review and if you'd like to offer suggestions or ideas, don't hesitate to message me!

PS: I know I butchered the Swiss or German (or Swiss-German) accent down there. If you'd like to message me a better way to improve the flow of the speech, I'd appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shrek, Dreamworks, or any other recognizable media or fairy tales.

The Fiona he used to know, had a troublesome sense of humor alright. Of course at the time, he didn't appreciate it at all. Far from it really. Funny how looking back on it now, he can't help the small smile it brings...

Since that fateful day he had instructed his witches to leave Fiona at the edge of the forest, he had almost forgotten all about her. Not even a whisper of her name was called to his attention for over a month, and so Rumpelstiltskin amused himself with the idea that she was eaten by wolves or the like. Perhaps she had went into hiding; exiled by both of her kind and now lived the life of a hermit in some filthy cave? Maybe... she had found her calling in a traveling circus as their star attraction in the freak show? Either way, he reasoned she must doing pretty good for herself. After all sorts of equally entertaining assumptions (and some rather inappropriate ones), she was forgotten completely; lost in the haze of living the high life. Whatever happened to her wasn't any of his concern and he was almost glad he had let her go rather then have to deal with her whining down in the dungeons. As the days turned into weeks, he grew comfortable with the assumption she wouldn't bother him and create a spectacle of herself in his castle again.

And that's where he was mistaken because... well... Fiona isn't someone who'd let herself be forgotten that easily. Not by a long shot. And so, it seemed that Fiona felt the need to remind him that she was still out there, and hadn't forgotten about him at all.

"Something's... missing," Rumpelstiltskin mused as he took in the high vaulted ceilings; sprawled on Fifi's back one lazy afternoon while some movers worked around them since it was the third time this month he had changed his mind and wanted everything redecorated. "What do you think?"

Fifi only honked in reply, of course. But a dignified honk nonetheless.

"That's what I was thinking," he agreed and crossed his arms behind his head, nestling himself deeper in her ivory feathers. Agreed to what, he had no idea. That's just how it was between them. He spoiled her in every way imaginable and she in turn spoiled him with attention, no matter what nonsense he was going on about. "A chandelier, maybe? Nah... Maybe a mural of me flying on your back surrounded by angels? Hmm... what about a great, big... ball? A pretty one that'll make the lights all twinkly. Kings get that sorta stuff, right? I'll have to take a look in the next catalog."

"Uh, Mr. Stiltskin? Your new wigs just came in and the delivery guy needs you to sign the order form," interrupted Wolfy in his creepy, flat toned voice and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but shiver inwardly. That guy's just... weird.

Besides the teeth grating monotone, Wolfy's wardrobe just rubs him the wrong way. The varying pastel frocks seem to say with a calm serenity: "As I grow older my husband will desire me less sexually, but still enjoy my pies" and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but wonder just why he wore those damned things. Maybe it's best if he never found out. If Wolfy didn't do such an impeccable job grooming and organizing his wigs, he'd most definitely have him done away with in some dark alley for being such an eyesore.

"What good are you if I have to do everything?" he grumbled as he slid off Fifi's back. Wolfy was halfway to giving a weak shrug in reply before Rumpelstiltskin kicked him in the shin irritably. He had more important things to do with his time. With a loving pat goodbye to Fifi, he grudgingly made his way to the front hallway.

Everything had been going well recently. He had to admit, it was a bit shaky in the beginning what with taking over an entire empire overnight and all. But it was all smoothed over more or less with the magics of the binding contract King Harold had signed. No other King could be crowned because of it or suffer misfortune and the few who tried (one of them, a real cougar of a godmother), served as a fair warning to the rest. Sure, it didn't gloss over everything perfectly with the public or the old militia, but it still held legal standing. And having the long oppressed witches on his side didn't hurt either since a sharp blade suddenly felt like nothing more than a toothpick compared to the intimidating edge of hundreds of swarming witches.

Now, turning the population against a whole race... that was easier, as shocking as that sounds. Ogres don't really give off a pitiable air about them anyhow with the way they often run amok and villagers have the tendency to hold long grudges. With the right media to unite everyone against a common enemy (other than himself) and reward versus effort, it was like shooting golden fish in a barrel. Ogres are systematically hunted down by witch and townsfolk alike everyday, picked clean off the very forest floors and all Rumpelstiltskin had to do was sit back and wait for the inevitable return of Shrek to be handed over to him. Shrek will be coming to a world where he's hated, alone, and friendless... just what he wished for. It's those little details that make everything fall into place. It was perfect; ingenious even.

Then again, was there ever any doubt? Perhaps... no one ever does when everything's going according to plan.

"I'll be needing your signature here, your grace," said a stout, red-faced man before a delivery carriage bearing the words Decadence 2 Go in bold lettering.

Rumpelstiltskin scanned the delivery order, careful to make sure everything was as it should be before kicking the knees out of the delivery man and signing the form on his back as a makeshift desk with a flourish. Ever since the last time he had to sign something, he's made it a habit to actually read into every word for double meanings and paradoxes. He was no by no means a poet or skilled writer, but he grew to understand the meaning behind words and the power it holds. Many endless nights were spent pouring over new contracts with ink splattered fingers trying to find the right words that will make the magic work to his advantage because even the slightest thing out of place, could cost him. Not that he regrets any of it... it was just a shame he had to learn the hard way. Funny how that goes; you curse the things that bring you misfortune, but love the experience it brings.

"Wolfy!" Rumpelstiltskin hollered, only to realize the wolf had been at his heels the whole time. "Unload my wigs and take them to...to..." and here he paused; face cringing at a sudden stench that tickled his nostrils. "What have you been rolling in? Know what–? keep it to yourself. Just get my stuff out."

Wolfy obeyed, but no sooner had he lifted the hatch to the door, was he thrown backwards as a dozen or so pigs straight from the filthiest mud pits of hell crashed out of the door. And all hell broke loose.

They squealed; slipping and sliding with the splash of shit, dirt, and half rotted vegetables. Rumpelstiltskin was nearly trampled, only managing to keep himself out of their way by scrambling up onto the delivery guy's back as they stampeded into the hallway. Cries and shouts of movers and witches alike were heard as they ran underfoot, tripping everyone in their way. Vases, chairs, and jeweled ornate goose eggs were knocked off their delicate tables and smashed into pieces. They spread their filth all over the beautifully tiled, newly waxed floors like a plague on humanity.

"W-what – where..." Rumpelstiltskin began weakly, starring after the havoc they caused in disbelief. The witches were trying to round them up, but it was doing more harm then good with the disaster they left in their wake. "Were those pigs wearing my wigs?"

"I'll go get your angry wig..." said Wolfy with a sigh.

"Ye —no. I'm way past angry. This... this is personal," Rumpelstiltskin snarled as peered into the delivery carriage and somewhere, Fifi honked in indignation.

"N-no, it's an accident! Maybe I've made a mista –" stammered the delivery guy but Rumpelstiltskin slapped him sharply on the back of the head.

"Not personal? Then what do you call that?" He physically turned the man's head, pointing into the carriage where three words were painted red with a feminine, curly script onto the dirt splattered walls that read:

With love, Fiona

She had even dotted the 'i' with a heart and everything.

"...so there I was, ankle deep in mud and pig shit and the meaning wasn't lost on me either. 'Pig in a wig' y'know."

"Seriously? You're pulling my leg now," Fiona's soft laughter awoke Rumpelstiltskin from his recollections. It was softer in tone then the dry, cold sort of laughter he's heard before and he found that it suited her much better. "I'm not that... it's just not something I think I'd do!"

"Oh yeah? But ya did," He chuckled, leaning against the bars before he caught his mistake. "I mean – she did. Pssh, and it wasn't the last time! That was just the warm up of all the little things she did to piss me off. By then, I think she found some ogres and started rallying them to do some sorta movement or something."

"Alright, I see the point in a rally, but pigs to make a mockery out of you? That's not something that would help free ogres."

"Now, I wouldn't say that. Picture this – ogres were hunted down by the day and in hiding... maybe they were too scared to try to bring me down?" Rumpelstiltskin gave a shrug; it made enough sense to him. Discrediting an enemy was one of the first things to do in his book. "Making an ass out of me broke that. She earned their respect with her nerve to do what other guys wouldn't dare. The wigs – pssh – that was just for shits and giggles. After that, they stole special shipments to the castle as much as they could. Food, supplies, anything – just to tick me off and help their own."

"You sound like you admired her," Fiona smiled that mysterious little smile again and he looked past her to not let it get to him. There she goes again, breaking the rules. What he thought of her wasn't part of the deal and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a straight answer this time.

"I get bored easy," he smirked and emptied the goblet before slipping it through the bars. "When she started stirring things up, it gave me something to do." It was true enough anyway.

Fiona nodded and didn't press him any further, putting the goblet way. "So...what did you do after that?"

"The only thing I could think of since I had no idea where she was..."

"Everyone thinks that I don't care, but that's not me," Rumpelstiltskin turned to face the room of witches he had assembled at large. "I care. I'mma caring sorta guy here! Whether I care about the right things or not, reasonable men might differ. But – I care about us. Am I right? "

The witches murmured in agreement, all eyes trained on him as casually leaned against Baba's armchair. He loved this part; their blind loyalty. Their unwavering agreement to everything the says. Sure, he knew it was only because he gave them the freedom to do as they pleased, but even loyalty based on lies is still loyalty nonetheless. He could live with the compromise of not having a scrap of real respect and love if it meant he could have all the power and riches he could ever want. Can't have everything after all. You've got to be realistic about such things.

"But I don't care for being made into joke–" a knock at the door stopped him mid-speech and every head turned towards the doors. "What is it?"

"Mr. Stiltskin?" Interrupted one of the pigs as he edged into the room followed by his brothers.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a heated sigh; anything to do with pigs right now was a touchy subject. "Can't you see I'm busy here? What d'ya want?"

"You be telling him," he whined to the one at his side.

"Unt be fresh bacon? No, I sink you-"

Rumpelstiltskin climbed onto the table with an irritated growl. There's never a break; he's constantly surrounded by useless idiots at all hours. How did Shrek put up with it all? "You're all be fresh bacon if you don't spit it out!"

"Vell ve ah... found de last pig..." began one weakly before elbowing the other to continue.

"But 'ee von't geet oust from undah your bed." He finished lamely and Rumpelstiltskin could've sworn he heard the quickly stifled snort of laughter behind his back. That's just great.

"So you come to me with this? Can't you – gee, I dunno – talk him out? You're all pigs!"

"Dey ist speaking pig-Latin unt ve -"

He's heard enough. He picked up the nearest candlestick to chuck at them and they couldn't scramble out of the door fast enough. Rumpelstiltskin took in a calming breath and wondered not for the first time, why he even keeps them in the castle. Wait... oh yeah, he knows. They were Shrek's friends after all and he made sure to go out of his way to collect them. Better to keep them in sight and under his thumb then be out there where they could easily run into Shrek and help him out. It also happened to add a nice sting to it when Shrek looks around and realizes that he's utterly alone in the world. He couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

"Alright... where was I?" He said, all business again.

"You got Rickrolled – I mean – pigrolled?" Baba suggested helpfully with a wide smile and muffled laughter spread around the table. Well, isn't that just witty. Real cute.

He joined in with a bit of laughter as well and the others laughed harder. It was all cool; jokes are alright between friends... or it would be if they actually were friends. "You just volunteered to help get that pig out of my room later, Baba," he fished off with a slap on the knee and she immediately stopped laughing. "Next time, you might just scrub my back in my next bubble bath..."

The witches shuddered as one and he laughed harder still. Oh yeah, jokes are real fun between friends.

He spared a wink at Baba and began again. "So, d'ya think I'm just gonna let what happened today slide? Let those filthy ogres make clowns of us? Right now, Fiona's out there laughing it up and we can't have that. I want her found. I want her face on every poster and hunting parties doubled. I want that stinking swamp drained! I want every tree in freakin' flames that even Jack can't jump over!"

The witches clapped and crackled their agreement and that night, he watched the pillars of smoke and fire billow up and darken the skies in the horizon from his bedroom balcony while Baba chased the last pig out into the hallway. In all honesty, he did have 'burning Shrek's family swamp to the ground' on his to-do list, but it turned out better this way. It was just an added bonus; the icing on the cupcake. Several ogres were caught and imprisoned, and to add insult to injury, he put them to work in the castle's pig farm.

Eliminating the swamp made it harder to hide a small community of ogres and the only place he reasoned they could build camp would be in the Enchanted Forest, so it made hunting them down all the more easier. Reward posters were hung at every tree, at every signpost, at every Inn and so began Fiona's notoriety as the ogre's ringleader at what was jokingly (but whispered) referred to as 'The Bay of Swines'.

Rumpelstiltskin had worried that something like this would happen. Perhaps he had even been hoping, or maybe even laboring under the delusion that the ogres would just stay down, hidden and away. It was a tyrants worst fear after all; having the very people they oppress rise up against them...strange but... a part of him didn't mind. Fiona had moved the first piece. A friendly invitation, if you will. And Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but grow to love the games they played.

"Shrek did mention how the posters didn't get my good side," Fiona rubbed her arms at a sudden gust of wind, chilled by the rainwater that had fallen from the tree branches. "But... you mentioned that my curse wasn't widely known. A 'secret' between the two of you, you said. Why didn't I just expose myself as princess?"

Good question. Ultimately, the people who could still remember the rumors about the young princess locked away in the tower, reckoned that Fiona had probably died in there or had disappeared right along with her parents. Or that maybe, she had ran off and left the kingdom to die. He had encouraged such rumors because it suited him. But he often had wondered the very same thing since he couldn't have fought the whole population rising up against him because some long lost heir decided to move in at take her place as queen.

"No idea," Rumpelstiltskin sat himself down and held back a yawn. "Maybe she didn't want to be a princess anymore? This Fiona... she was bitter. Angry. Resented everything about her royalty. Maybe even the part of her that was human..." He nodded since it seemed to make enough sense to him looking back on all of it. "No one saved her from that tower and she stayed a bit longer then you up in there." He felt, rather then heard her sigh and he looked up at her not-quite smile. "Not what you expected?"

"Thing is... I was angry and bitter for a long time too," She said quietly and turned her gaze to the homely, yet comfy looking home. Comfier then his own cage anyway. "I grew up with a fairy tale under my arm. I read nothing but books of Princesses and their Prince Charmings religiously and hoped and... and it was just a shock to finally get out and see that things weren't like I pictured them to be. It felt like waking up from a hundred year long dream and I was so disappointed that my happily ever after wasn't like I believed it to be... " She gave a quiet laugh, as if in remembrance and her smile widened. "At least at first. So... yes. I would expect that she wouldn't want to be apart of her human side in the world you made. It's the side that didn't want her in the first place."

Rumpelstiltskin worried his lip and reminded himself, like he always does whenever his thoughts turned to her, that this confession of hers meant nothing to him. Some people get their happy ending, some don't. End of story. No 'what ifs'. No do-overs. If there's anything he's learned from his stint in the alternate reality, is that there are no re-writes, no matter how hard you try.

"That... sucks," he said finally, just so say anything in the short silence between them. A pity party wasn't part of the deal either so he didn't feel the need to fake being all sensitive with her.

"One last question..." Fiona's smile softened as her eyes caught his again.

"C'mon, I ain't got all night," he mumbled at her hesitance and wrapped his arms around his knees to get comfortable... or as comfortable as possible. "I'm a busy guy here, got lots of things to do tomorrow."

Fiona rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Why didn't you make wanted posters of me in my human form? I mean... she would have had to get out sometime during the day."

"Ooh... I uh – " he paused to buy himself some time while his thoughts swam around and came up dry. "I didn't think of that." It wasn't a downright lie; in the gray area really, but they never agreed on complete honesty in the deal either.

Fiona's brows furrowed together slightly, but she nodded nonetheless with that calm understanding that throws him off. How can someone be so... forgiving and condemning at the same time? Rumpelstiltskin chewed on the inside of his cheek and briefly wondered if Shrek ever felt the same. If he did, he hoped it was often because that infectious, needless guilt she forces on someone was just uncomfortable.

"Okay – I don't know why," he spat out with a roll of his eyes. He wanted her caught, yeah, but then – he didn't. If that made any sense. There were times when she was right where he wanted her, and he had let her get away. Hell, one time, he did manage to capture her. It made their games... fun maybe. "I was bored?"

"You get bored easy, huh?" Fiona smiled wanly and she didn't press him for any details again. "Goodnight Rumpel."

On an impulse, he wanted to tell her to stay just a bit longer and talk about other things – just anything so he wouldn't have to be left alone to his thoughts since they've been eating at him more than usual lately. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. She does enough already with this small, guilty pleasure she allows. It was enough. He could live with that.

"'Night," he said instead. He blinked at the sudden darkness; the glare of the lantern still lingering in his vision after she had snuffed it out. The distant creek of the door disturbed the constant drone of the nightly insects for only a moment before he was engulfed in it again. Funny how he didn't seem to notice it before when they were talking. Their conversations almost make everything a bit easier to bear between the long hours of nothing to do.

He yawned; arms stretching out instinctively before he banged his wrist against the bars with a hiss. Well... almost bearable.

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!