The princess woke up, she could hear a battle going on from within the keep. She leapt out of bed and looked out of her window. The teen leant as far as she dared over the ledge. She could see flickers of flames and shadows of a sword being raised. She squealed in excitement; her prince was finally coming to save her! She knew he was the one who would make it. Fiona knew she had to be fast, check her hair, her face, her breath, throw on her best dress and make sure she was perfect. She had practiced the routine many times over the years, she had it down to five minutes.

She twirled around in her room, unable to be still under the anticipation of the event. That's when she heard it – the agonised screech of a pained dragon. A grin spread over her face. She leaned out her window once more, waving her handkerchief, showing him that she did indeed know of his victory. The princess could barely restrain her excitement as she realised he would be climbing the stairs soon. She couldn't help but imagine what his arms would feel like, what his face would look like, what their kiss would be like! She twirled around her room a little more, as if in pretend dance with her prince. It wouldn't be long until she was free of her lonely tower.

It was almost an instant before she heard him at her door. Fiona paused in the middle of the room, her dress flowing around her. She tried to suppress her childish grin. He opened the door, slowly and carefully. All suppression of her feelings was lost. He was tall, with dark hair and bright eyes. He was rugged and yet gallant. He looked kind-hearted and yet fiercely brave. Most of all he was incredibly handsome. She beamed at him and he smiled back at her, a smile she had been envisioning since she was little.

He approached her. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. "Princess," he spoke in a deep smooth voice that made the young princess swoon.

"My Prince Charming." She curtsied at him.

Where she was sure he was amour-clad before, he was now adorned in the finest clothing; his tunic silk, and his robes the softest of velvets. She reached out and touched his chest as he grew nearer, she could feel how muscular he was. He stopped in front of her, she only stood as high as his shoulder. She giggled as they met each other's gaze, getting lost in his ocean blue eyes. Though, he suddenly furrowed his brow, looking at her strangely.

"What is it, kind prince?" she asked sweetly. She reached for his hand, but he recoiled away, scowling at her. "What's wrong?" she asked again. Concern flooded her body. She looked down at herself, to search for what troubled him. Her eyes widened as she realised the problem – she was not the beautiful princess he expected to see. Her gaze flew over to the window, the sky had grown dark. But – she didn't remember transforming. "Wait-" She desperately looked back up to him, but it was too late.

"Monster," he growled at her, raising his sword.

The princess screamed, cowering as he swung it down at her-

Fiona gasped for air, eyes wide, sitting bolt upright in bed. She breathed heavily, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. She looked frantically around her dim tower room - she was alone, as usual, though this did nothing to slow her racing heart. She laid back down, pressing her back firmly into the mattress, pulling her blanket over her. Her breathing was rapid and she struggled to regulate herself.

It was a dream. A silly dream. She squeezed her eyes closed. She just needed to go back to sleep, it was still the middle of the night after all. She exhaled slowly, roughly wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. She'd had plenty of bad dreams over the years she'd spent in the tower, all in varying degrees of terribleness. She'd dealt with them just fine. It was only until she got rescued, after all. It surely wouldn't be much longer now, maybe another year, and then everything would be fine. She'd leave the nightmares behind with the tower, all for her happily ever after.

Her eyes flew open, it couldn't hurt to indulge in a solution, could it?

It wasn't like she'd be getting any sleep with her mind so anxious. The situation was simple anyway. Perhaps if he couldn't see her clearly she could quickly explain herself.

The princess climbed out of bed, she looked around at the torches that remained lit every night - they signalled her whereabouts to any potential rescuer. Surely it would only help her if he got a little lost at night. She supposed it would be a little tricky to find the exact tallest tower from the bottom of the keep, and if someone didn't instinctively know she would be in the highest room of the tallest tower, maybe they didn't deserve to rescue her in the first place. Besides, she didn't need the light while she was sleeping anyway.

Fiona put out the torches, plunging the room into darkness, lit only by an eerie orange glow. It wasn't dark enough, she realised. She looked towards her mirror, only able to see her shadowy silhouette - it was large. Despite her hair, her protruding ears were just visible. She looked like even more of a monster. She hung her head, retreating back to the safety of her bed. She pulled the blankets over herself once more, rolling onto her side, facing the window. Perhaps she could ignore it - it was just a bad dream, she reminded herself once again. But the situation sent coldness creeping up her spine. If she couldn't see the door she wouldn't be able to tell if someone decided to sneak into her room. They'd believe they were putting a monster out of its misery, after all. She turned, facing the door instead, staring at it. She took a breath and closed her eyes, it was just a dream.

Except… what if it wasn't just a dream? What if this became a reality? Her eyes flew open again, she anxiously sat up, hugging her knees. It would be easy, so easy… all it would take is for a rescuer to come at night… not even at night, in the evening past sunset, or early in the morning, just before the sun broke the horizon. It wasn't like people would stop to make camp just because the sun went down if they had indeed travelled for many days and nights like her parents said they would.

She had to do something… prevent them from getting into her room at night. She could perhaps tell them to come back once the sun had risen, surely they'd understand. Staring at the door she realised she could block it – barricade it and do so every night. She slid out of bed and looked around the room. She lifted her vanity, placing it against the door, but it was so light it'd be moved easily. Finally, her eyes found the bed. That would be heavy enough to not let the door budge. But… her bed was placed on an elevated part of the floor. And it was heavy. She looked at her hands, she was an ogre now. She just needed to wake up before sunrise, each morning, and lift the bed back into place. She could do that… maybe…

Fiona took hold of one of the bedposts at the foot of her bed and pulled it towards her. She heard the sudden collapse of a stack of books that was stored under it. She walked around to the back of her bed, where the opening was and painstakingly dragged everything out from under there. Books, boxes, blankets, old toys, her chamber pot… dumping it all wherever she had room.

Resuming her plight, she returned to her original position, tugging it towards her. It wasn't as heavy as she imagined it to be, it almost made her smile. She pulled on it again, the wood scraping against the stone floor. She took one step down, pulling the bed with her. She took another step. She pulled the bed downwards, perhaps if it would slide, it would help her. Except, her eyes opened wide as the bed did indeed begin to slide towards her. She caught it, stumbling backwards, the curtains that surrounded the piece of furniture falling onto her, obscuring her vision. The whole bed tilted on the angle - leaning against her - was definitely as heavy as she imagined. She was suddenly scared to take more steps backwards, the fear of falling back and it landing on her kept her frozen. If she died as an ogre, would her form even switch back? She suddenly realised she had a new fear to dwell on later. That indeed was for later, her current fear was taking up all of her attention and strength. Still underneath the curtain, she began pushing the bed back up onto the raised ground. As much as she expected to not be strong enough – she was. Fiona leant forwards, slowly extending her arms. Her muscles had never been tested in such a way, though they were stable and didn't tremble under the weight.

Finally, the princess stood back and contemplated the new, secure but skewed position of her bed. She shook out her arms, they ached a little from the effort. Looking between the bed and her door, she wondered if it was worth it. Maybe a rescuer wouldn't even come at night… but how could she be sure?

She did her best to fill herself with determination, as she moved around to the other side of the bed. Pushing it would leave no danger of getting squashed. Not that she'd even get squashed. She was reminded again of her form. She sighed before trying to feel as grateful as she could for the strength needed. With a couple of heaves from the princess, the bed overbalanced down the steps, though not without making a terrible noise. Fiona flinched, staying quiet, listening for the dragon. Occasionally when she dropped something loud, or screamed – as people occasionally do – she would hear the dragon growl its disapproval. It was silent. She let go of the breath she didn't realise she was holding. Though, her relief didn't last long. She realised with growing alarm that she might have broken the bed and what would happen if it did break? Who could she ask for a replacement? The dragon? She shuddered at the thought. Hurrying in a circle around the piece of furniture, she could sigh her relief that it was still in one piece, unscathed by her impulsive rearranging.

After more pushing and pulling and scraping, the foot of the bed finally sat against the door. The princess stood back, hands on her hips admiring her work. She looked around her dark – darker than usual – room. She supposed with her work done, she could get back into bed and go to sleep. She hesitantly climbed under her cover once again. Her arms were aching and yet she felt exhilarated, too amped up to sleep. She took deep breaths, slowing her rapid breathing. She didn't want to spend the night awake and then need to sleep during the day and waste her true form. The more moonlit hours she could sleep away the better – it was an attitude she'd had for a long while.

Though, after a moment of laying in the quiet, Fiona found herself restless. The adrenaline only fuelling the fear that still lingered in her mind. She continued to watch the door immediately in front of her, as if someone were about to leap through it that very second. She tried to reassure herself; no one could open it, especially with her laying in the bed, as an ogre. Though, as desperately as she wanted to feel relieved, she couldn't draw her eyes from the entryway. Visions of her prince thinking it was but another trial to get through and hacking at the door with an axe entered her mind. Of course, laying where she was, she would be perfectly within range of a swing as he got through the door and saw the beast laying there. The princess stumbled out of bed yet again.

She looked around the sparse room, she didn't have much to work with. Her heart was racing in her chest, she knew she needed to do something to secure her safety. Her eyes landed on one of the tapestries that decorated her room. Without thinking she grasped hold of it with both hands and pulled it hard. It began to tear away from its pole attached to the wall. She ripped at it until it successfully dropped into her arms. Maybe a curtain blocking his view would help. She could easily tell him to wait, make up an excuse about not being decent. It would buy her time to panic and explain.

She stood on her bed – still barricading the door – and tried to balance it atop the doorframe. If she bunched it up enough, perhaps it would stay. However, the ogress quickly realised it was too heavy to stay in place. Whenever she stuffed one section into place, she'd move onto another and it would fall again. The repeated failures only grew her frustrations. She screwed up the tapestry in her arms, scowling as she did so. She aggressively threw it at the wall opposite her, trying to release the anger inside of her.

She hopped down from her bed, hastily pulling one of the posts, dragging it away from the door again. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes, she scowled, wiping them away. Agitated and desperate for a solution, she grabbed a pile of books she had created and dropped them in front of the door. Her unfocused movements caused them to topple over. The princess roared her distress, kicking at them. She took a deep, shuddery breath, giving the bed one last frustrated push and heard an unmistakable rip from the carpet tangled beneath her feet and the bed posts.

It was truly the last straw for the princess. Her face creased up and she lowered herself onto the cold stone floor. She hugged her knees, rocking back and forth a little, unable to take her eyes off of the door. She didn't even want to look elsewhere; her room was a disaster. Should a prince arrive that night, he would think a monster had ransacked the room and eaten the princess - she'd surely be as slain as the dragon. Fiona laid her head against her knees as more tears threatened to fall. At home she had people guarding her so no one could reach her or see her at night. She found herself longing for the restrictions she once hated. She sniffed, wiping her face on her legs, finally exhausted but terrified at the thought of trying to sleep. "I just want to go home," she mumbled into the darkness, blinking at the newest part of her room that haunted her, unable to move her gaze for the rest of the night.

. . .

Please no one talk to me about how her tower door seems to open both ways, and in the first film it's barred from the outside meaning it opens outwards into the stairwell – I know. I'm going with Forever After cannon where it's a pretty, ornate door that must have been locked shut with a key and opens into the room. Thank you, Dreamworks, for your consistency. That is all.

I promise one day I'll write one that isn't depressing. Poor Fiona.