Shrek and the Queen of Duloc
By Gadfly
Introduction
The climax of the film “Shrek” takes place in a large church in the mythical kingdom of Duloc, where the title ogre and his allies overcome the evil Lord Farquaad and rescue the fair Princess Fiona. Following this, she and Shrek share True Love’s First Kiss which dramatically breaks the spell that has condemned Fiona to a dual existence, a spell that made her a human by day and an ogress at night. Immediately following that, she and Shrek start to kiss again – and the film abruptly cuts to the end of their wedding kiss at his (their) swamp home.
But exactly what happened between the two kisses? Was it as smooth a transition as the film implied? Well, maybe – but then again, maybe not! This story addresses the “not” scenario. It attempts to tie up some loose ends, fill in some gaps, and offer some speculation on certain questions that the film raises. These are all, of course, my take on the subjects and I make no claim to absolute authoritative certainty. In fact, if certain of my speculations mirror what was going through the screenwriters’ minds, I would regard it as a minor miracle – i.e., what I’m basically saying is that I’ve taken “La Liberté” with some of my imaginings. But my heart is pure, and my intentions are simply to pay homage to one of my favorite films and, above all, to entertain.
Copyright Notice
Characters, places and situations from the motion picture “Shrek” belong to Dreamworks SKG. They are used here with affection but, alas, without permission.
This fanfic features some lyrics to the songs “No Matter What” by Jim Steinman and “It Is You (I Have Loved)” by Dana Glover. Snippets of these songs can be heard and CDs featuring them can be ordered through the following web pages:
“No Matter What”
From the CD “Where We Belong” by Boyzone
And the CD “Notting Hill – Motion Picture Soundtrack”
“It Is You (I Have Loved)”
From the CD “Shrek – Motion Picture Soundtrack”
(And no, I’m not getting paid for any of this, folks.)
Table of Contents
Prolog: Pew View......
Chapter 1: Afterglow......
Chapter 2: Caught in the Reign......
Chapter 3: Dragon's Playmate......
Chapter 4: Making Camps......
Chapter 5: New World Ogre......
Chapter 6: Fateful Decisions......
Chapter 7: Queen, Interrupted......
Chapter 8: The Highest Room......
Chapter 9: The Midnight Hour......
Chapter 10: What Do You Propose?......
Chapter 11: Awakenings......
Chapter 12: High Noon......
Chapter 13: True Colors......
Chapter 14: High Adventure......
Chapter 15: Swamped......
Chapter 16: Our Beast Friends’ Wedding......
Prolog: Pew View
Mayor Mumphord Milquest of Duloc – a nondescript, portly man who had made an art of the avoidance of controversy and advanced to his position through skillful sycophancy to the reining regent – had seen much in his forty-five years. And, as this province had a tendency, for some mysterious reason, to attract an unusual number of fairy-folk and their kin, he thought that there was little left that could surprise him. But the events of the past ten minutes had changed his mind. Now, as he nervously stood on the stage of a church, watching the passionate embrace of two ogres while he himself squirmed under the watchful glare of a protective dragon, he reflected on those incredible few minutes.
They had begun as he was watching the end of a royal wedding ceremony. A surprisingly unostentatious event, especially considering that the groom was Lord Farquaad, a man not at all disinclined to pomp and ceremony. Indeed, the chancel/stage area of the church where Farquaad and his bride stood with the priest was remarkably inornate. The only other person to share the stage was the brawny and behooded Thelonious, the town executioner, who waited nearby, holding a pillow upon which sat the wedding rings. (Milquest mused if it said something oddly profound about the institution of marriage that an executioner would be serving as best man.) The only other objects on the stage were two three-foot podiums, upon which sat the couple’s crowns, as Farquaad had ordered that the wedding ceremony be immediately followed by their official coronation as king and queen of Duloc.
Of course, much of this had been literally thrown together in just a few hours time. Farquaad, the short-tempered, short-mannered, and – well, generally short authoritarian ruler of Duloc was taking the vows with a lovely young auburn-haired princess he had only met that day. She had arrived in the province just that morning for the express reason of becoming Farquaad's bride and – through the complex machinations of Dulocian law – queen to Farquaad's king. Milquest and the five members of the town council – known as "Farquaad's rubber stamp" to their many detractors – were introduced to her briefly a couple of hours before the wedding. She had spoken almost none at all during the meeting, and, despite her stunning physical beauty, her eyes contained a sad, faraway look. Her face bore an expression, not of a blushing bride making ready for her wedding, but rather more like a mourner at the funeral of someone she had dearly loved.
As two female attendants arrived to lead the princess away for her final dress fitting, Milquest had decided to try to coax some response from his future queen and make a positive impression for himself with Farquaad’s new nominal partner. So he had jovially ventured, "So, your Majesty, what do you think of your future kingdom?"
The princess had glanced out a nearby window at the perfectly neat, aligned, and organized streets, shops, and homes that made up the majority of the walled town, then shrugged and replied dully, "Very clean." She had then turned and absently followed the attendants out of the room without another word, unconsciously leaving the parting bows of Milquest and the council unacknowledged.
That was some two hours before. Some ten MINUTES before, during the wedding ceremony itself, she had, surprisingly, seemed even more distracted. Even as the priest read the vows, she seemed to keep glancing out the window at the slowly setting sun. She had even asked the priest to skip part of the ceremony itself, all the way to the I-do's. A most peculiar occurrence, Milquest had thought at the time.
But the peculiarities hadn't really begun yet. They really began just after the priest had officially pronounced the couple "husband and wife, king and queen," when the new queen leaned down to kiss her now royal husband. At that point, the church doors burst open and in ran a large green ogre shouting “I OBJECT!” loud enough that the entire town could hear him – even if nearly all of it HADN’T already been sitting in the church pews. The ogre hurried down the aisle toward the newlyweds as Milquest and most of the other attendees rose to their feet, not sure what was going on. The ogre’s gait slowed as he neared the front of the church, as he apparently became more conscious of his surroundings. Either that or he was becoming less certain of his resolve.
As the beast neared his own pew, Milquest could not only smell him, he recognized him. He was the ogre that had a few days before also disrupted the competition Farquaad was conducting where various knights were vying to determine who would be the champion to storm the far-off castle where a fierce fire-breathing dragon was keeping the princess prisoner. Oddly, the resulting confrontation had ended with the ogre himself emerging as the champion. And he had actually succeeded – nobody knew just how – in retrieving the princess and turning her over to Farquaad to be his bride. Perhaps, Milquest mused, by disrupting the wedding the ogre now wished in like manner to supplant Farquaad as the groom. The absurdity of his thought brought a half-smile to Milquest’s face.
Milquest’s smile faded as he looked back to the wedding pair. The new queen’s eyes were fixed on the ogre, her face a mixture of surprise, anger, and – something else Milquest couldn’t quite place. But Farquaad’s face revealing nothing more than barely restrained outrage. He briefly shifted his eyes off to the side of the church where they locked with that of a soldier wearing the dress uniform of Captain of the Guards. Captain Horace Gledius, to be precise – a relatively good-looking, well-built man. Farquaad gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod before shifting his gaze back to the increasingly uncomfortable ogre, who had started awkwardly babbling something to the crowd about how he liked Duloc. Gledius, in turn, made some subtle hand and head signals to guards stationed around the church. The doors the ogre had just come in through were quietly closed, and other exits were likewise quickly and quietly sealed.
Milquest sighed as the ogre started to argue with the royal couple. He actually felt sorry for the monster. He hoped that whatever had prompted this brash act was worth it, for, barring some miracle, he was soon to pay for it with his life. Milquest actually winced in sympathy as the ogre openly accused Farquaad of marrying only so as to be king. This was true, of course – Milquest and the council already assumed this, knowing Farquaad – but the ogre was not helping his case in pointing it out. He was only either shortening what was left of his life, or extending his torture, depending on Farquaad’s mood.
Then there was another heated exchange between the ogre and the queen – some naïve ramblings about “true love” – and then the ogre sputtered into silence as Farquaad actually began to chuckle. The new king then laughed outright, his loud, mocking voice carrying across the church as he said, “The OGRE has fallen in LOVE with the PRINCESS!”
Farquaad signaled to a man holding a set of four-foot long cue cards, who dutifully and adroitly shuffled through the deck and then pulled out one labeled “Laugh.” He held it up and all the Dulocians, also dutifully, burst into laughter. But for many, Milquest included, it was even more forced than most of the compulsory responses Farquaad demanded in his perfectly orchestrated little kingdom. For the ogre was wilting under the barrage of mockery. His head held low, even his trumpet-like ears drooping, he was perhaps beginning to understand the tragic futility of his brash actions. Milquest could almost feel his heart go out to the pitiful creature, and the mayor’s eyes slid to the side of the church toward Gledius. The captain was laughing heartily like everyone in the church – save the queen and the ogre – but the mirth did not extend to his eyes, which were cold and hard and fixed on the ogre. Gledius’s hand rested upon the hilt of his sword. It would not be long now. He doubted Farquaad would have the ogre killed then and there – it would be too unseemly – but his end would no doubt come soon.
At Farquaad’s curt signal the card was lowered, and the laughter quickly trailed to a stop. God, Milquest hated being manipulated this way. He felt like an automaton, like one of those insipid little singing puppets that Farquaad had placed by the town gates to welcome visitors.
But the queen had not laughed. She gazed upon the ogre with sympathy. No, not just sympathy, but – something more. She asked him something in a soft voice that Milquest could not quite make out over the fading laughter, but before the ogre could reply Farquaad seized her hand, knelt before her and demanded that she kiss him so as to complete the ceremony and begin their “happily ever after.” He puckered his lips and closed his eyes – which was just as well, as that way he didn’t see the little scowl that crossed the queen’s face as she looked down on her husband with new-found revulsion. Then she said something else in a soft voice, this time apparently to herself – something about night and day – as she wistfully looked out the window at the last fading rays of the Duloc sunset. Then, with sudden resolution, she pulled away from Farquaad and, with her eyes focused on the ogre, she backed to the window.
“I meant to show you before…” the beauty said to the beast. She offered an uneasy little smile, then closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Then Milquest gasped saw the – cloud? fog? – begin forming around her. It began at her feet and moved upward in a swirling motion, a bright luminous fog highlighted with the twinkling of lights. Within that fog the outline of the queen could still just be made out – but that outline was – CHANGING. It was growing wider – taller. Then, as quickly as it began, the fog lifted. What it revealed, in place of the queen, was a broad-framed, green-skinned, pug-nosed, trumpet-eared ogress.
"Good Lord!" Milquest gasped, his voice blending in with dozens of other expressions of shock and bewilderment across the church. Some women -- and a few men -- even fainted.
The ogress opened her still-blue eyes -- eyes that immediately locked on just one figure, that of the ogre.
She was apparently oblivious -- or was trying to be oblivious -- to all other reactions. She gave another tepid, self-conscious little smile as she waited anxiously to see what he would do.
Milquest could only see the ogre's back from where he stood, but judging from the creature's body language he had been as dumbstruck as the other witnesses to the metamorphosis. Then, shaking himself from his reverie, he stammered in an upbeat voice, "Well -- uuuh -- that explains a lot!"
Milquest had absolutely no idea what that meant, but it certainly seemed to satisfy the ogress. Her anxiety immediately melted away, as if the worries and fears of a lifetime had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled warmly and lovingly at the ogre, and although Milquest couldn't see it, he somehow knew the ogre was doing the same to her.
But the ogress's features quickly changed yet again, this time to horror, as Farquaad finally registered his own reaction.
“Oh, it’s DISGUSTING!” he spat, “GUARDS! GUARDS! I order you to get them out of my sight! NOW! Get them BOTH!”
A battalion of armored soldiers spilled out of the alcoves and made for the ogres. Milquest looked to the side to see Gledius draw his sword and quickly direct which companies to attack which target.
"NO!" the ogress screamed, and rushed toward the ogre. As she got near, she reached out desperately for him. Dropping his guard, he reached out for her in return. Just before their hands could touch, dozens of arms seized the two of them and jerked them apart. They continued calling each other’s names as the soldiers pulled the struggling pair further away from each other.
"The bast--" Milquest began, but quickly bit his lip. Yet he could tell from similar murmuring from around him that he was not the only Dulocian to feel his sympathies shifting to the "wrong side" in this little spectacle. Farquaad's actions certainly didn't engender sympathy. Enraged that his "perfect wedding" to his “perfect bride” had gone so awry, he ranted and stormed. He seized the king's crown from its pedestal and angrily planted it upon his head. Then he thundered at the struggling ogre of things he would do to make him beg for death.
Then Farquaad turned back to the ogress, who was also still struggling against the arms that held her, and still calling out the ogre's name.
"As for you, my 'WIFE'," he spat the word out in disgust, drawing his shortsword and holding the point up to just below her chin, silencing her, "I'll have you locked back in that tower till the end of your days!"
Despite an initial valiant resistance, the superior number and coordination of the soldiers had succeeded in steadily subduing the ogre to this point. Now, however, as he saw Farquaad turning his wrath upon the ogress, he somehow summoned some great reserve of strength. With a mighty heave he tossed off the solders that had been restraining his right arm. Then he quickly placed two fingers in his mouth and let go a loud, high-pitched whistle. Milquest and several others quickly plugged their ears. The ogress stared about, puzzled as to the significance of the ogre’s action. Farquaad simply continued to rage.
“I WILL HAVE ORDER! I WILL HAVE PERFECTION! I WILL HAVE—”