Chapter 7: Queen, Interrupted


Gledius peered around the corner of a nearby building at the two 
animals eating at the cart of pasta.  He smiled with grim 
satisfaction as he saw the dragon finish off the last doped 
meatball.  He had been afraid, when he saw the attention with 
which the pink behemoth had at first been examining the food, 
that it would somehow detect the strong but supposedly tasteless 
sedative that he had had the cook lace through the spicy beef.  
But its attention had, fortunately, been drawn away yet again by 
the yammering jackass.

"We're in luck," the captain whispered over his shoulder to 
Maximus, who stood just behind him, "the beast has eaten the last 
meatball, and doesn't seem to realize anything is amiss.  It 
shouldn't be long now."

"Luck, sir?" the lieutenant responded, "Nay, I should think that 
Divine Providence has surely played a part in blessing our noble 
endeavor."

Gledius caught himself just short of saying, "Whatever," and just 
nodded instead.  If the lieutenant wished to believe such quaint 
notions, it was fine with him -- especially if it played into 
Gledius's plans.  For all the captain knew, it might even be 
true.  As for himself, Gledius's experience tended to lead him to 
the philosophy that God helped those that helped themselves -- or 
at least often appeared to keep quietly out of the way while they 
did so.

Gledius saw the dragon's eyes begin to flutter closed for a 
moment, then it jerked them back open.  The same thing happened a 
few seconds later, the action reminding Gledius of the way the 
dragon tended to bat its eyes every so often at the donkey, a 
gesture that made the captain want to vomit.  But the dragon's 
eyes would be closed for good soon enough, first in sleep, and 
then --

"Sir," Maxiumus whispered into Gledius's ear, startling the 
captain, "why did you just use a sedative?  Why not -- well, why 
did you not just use poison, kill it now, and be done with it?"

Gledius turned and looked back at his second-in-command.  The 
viciousness of the question, coming from the source that it did, 
surprised the captain.  And the glint he saw in Maximus's eye was 
equally surprising.  Something about the dragon -- or Maxiumus's 
experience with it -- had brought forth a facet in the chivalrous 
soldier that Gledius hadn't realized existed.  There was 
apparently more depth than Gledius had imagined in Maximus -- a 
dark side to this knight.  It was something that the captain 
would have to file away for future use.  For now, there was more 
immediate work to be done.  First, though, he needed to answer 
the lieutenant's question.

"The beast's crimes were committed against Duloc, its king, its 
soldiers, and its people," Gledius whispered, "Those people 
deserve to see the monster executed before them.  This is 
justice.  We must put aside what would have been the more 
convenient act of killing the beast now, to ensure that the 
people may see such justice done.  That is our duty."

Maximus's eyes narrowed for a moment as he digested Gledius's 
words, then the lieutenant reluctantly nodded.  Gledius returned 
the nod curtly, then turned back to spy again on the two animals.  
The captain had not mentioned that, since Gledius planned to be 
the dragon's executioner, that seeing the captain publicly slay 
such a huge and powerful beast -- chained and muzzled or not -- 
would also advance Gledius's prestige in the eyes of Dulocians, 
who always seemed to enjoy such violent spectacles.  He 
remembered how they had cheered even the ogre himself when the 
creature had bested an array of their own knights during the 
tournament to determine the champion who would rescue their 
future queen from this same dragon -- and the ogre had done it 
with the help of this same donkey.  Gledius chuckled quietly and 
sardonically at the odd and ironic twists of the situation.  And 
he watched the two animals, patiently, like a vulture.  If this 
worked, then the money that he had used to bribe the restaurateur 
would have been worth it.  In fact, Gledius had gotten off 
relatively cheap.  He would have offered more, but the Italian 
had taken an early offer.  The fool.  Thinking back on it, 
Gledius was surprised at how quickly Mario had leaped at the 
prospect of grabbing just a few gold coins.

As the minutes passed, the dragon grew noticeably and 
progressively more tired.  It stopped checking its surroundings 
as alertly as it had been, and then seemed to stop checking 
altogether.  Instead of resting on its feet, it seemed to sag, as 
more of its body started resting on the street.  And it had more 
and more trouble keeping its eyes open.  A couple of times, it 
even started to rest its head on the ground, then quickly raised 
it as it tried to recover, only to have it start to slump back 
towards the ground a short while later.  Meanwhile, the donkey, 
to Gledius's gratitude, seemed oblivious to its companion's 
condition.  Between talking and eating -- two activities for 
which it seemed to have quite a knack -- it was totally absorbed 
in its own reality.  With luck, they might pull this off without 
alerting the ogres and their cohorts within the castle to their 
guardians' plight.

At long last the dragon's head slowly sank to the ground, its 
eyes closed, and they did not reopen.  And the donkey STILL was 
lost in its own thoughts, muttering something between bites as 
its snout rooting for more pasta.  Maybe Maxiumus was right, 
Gledius thought; maybe Providence really WAS on their side.  The 
captain glanced up at the light coming from Farquaad's council 
chamber.  He would like to have waited a bit longer to make sure 
the Dragon was as soundly asleep as possible, but if he did so he 
might lose the element of surprise.  He turned back and looked 
down the long alley, where two squads of soldiers, each thirty-
some-odd men in strength, quietly waited.  They had easily been 
swayed to Gledius's arguments for the coup's necessity, being 
even less critical thinkers than Maxiumus.  But then, that WAS 
one of the reasons why they were chosen for their positions, 
along with their willingness to mindlessly obey orders.  And now 
was the time for Gledius to give some of the most important 
orders of his life.  "All right," he whispered to Maxiumus, 
"let's do it.  You take one squad and secure the Dragon -- and 
for God's sake, try to keep that mule quiet if you can -- 
although it might be easier to restrain an UNDOPED dragon.  I'll 
take the other squad and work my way up the castle to the ogres' 
lair.  Now GO!"

*     *     *

Dragon was feeling quite relaxed, thank you, as she lay with her 
head on the pavement of the street.  Donkey's steady steam of 
noise was quite soothing, but she heard it less and less as sleep 
began to overtake her.  Then she heard something else as she 
drifted near the edge of consciousness -- something she had heard 
so many times before -- the gentle rattling of armor, as of a 
knight moving cautiously as it tried to stalk her.  Summoning 
forth a great effort, she opened her eyes.  Donkey was still 
nibbling obliviously at the spaghetti.  But several yards away 
from them, and moving slowly closer, were a group of armored 
soldiers, swords drawn.  Dragon smirked -- leave it to humans to 
bring swords to a firefight.  Dragon drew in a deep breath as the 
soldiers froze in fright, then she let out ... a long, smoky yawn 
as her head collapsed on the pavement and she began to snore.  A 
few moments later her light sleep was interrupted by Donkey's 
panicked voice.  "WAKE UP, BABE!!  WAKE UP, PLEASE, THEY'RE 
EVERYWHERE!!!"  Dragon forced one eye open to see a close-up of 
Donkey's frightened face staring into it.  "WAKE U--"  Suddenly 
he was no longer there, as one soldier shoved him aside while 
another took his place in front of Dragon's eye.  The soldier 
looked into her huge slitted pupil, and panic suddenly seemed to 
seize him, too.  He drew his sword back as if in preparation to 
thrust it forward into her eye -- and suddenly the soldier was no 
longer there, either.  Donkey was back, having somehow eluded the 
first soldier when he saw what the second intended, and had head-
butted the second to the ground, snarling after him, "HEY, YOU, 
PICK ON SOMEBODY YOUR OWN SIZE!"  How sweet, Dragon thought 
blearily, he's fighting for me!  Unfortunately, Donkey's 
temporary show of bravery was cut short as two other soldiers 
tackled him from behind.  Then Dragon's eye closed and she at 
last slipped completely into unconsciousness.

*     *     *

Maximus watched approvingly as his men moved about the dragon.  
They lugged, tossed, and clamped heavy chains about it as the 
great behemoth snored.  While Maximus's squad set about their 
Lilliputian task, Gledius had led his to the castle gates.  The 
two castle gate guards had at first met the captain with crossed 
lances, but after a few moments of conversation they, like the 
others, apparently came to their senses and opened the gates for 
him.  That had been a few minutes ago.  The lieutenant glanced up 
at the towering structure, wondering where within its walls the 
soldiers were now.

"Stop struggling there!" he heard a rough voice near him, and 
looked over to where three soldiers were holding the donkey.  Two 
restrained its struggling body while the third's only job was to 
hold the equine's mouth closed -- something that was turning out 
to be a somewhat daunting task.  Maximus mentally kicked himself 
for not thinking to bring a proper muzzle with them, but they had 
incorrectly assumed it would have eaten some of the doped meat.  
Providence was still with them, however, as their surprise was 
complete enough that the donkey hadn't thought to call out a 
warning to his cohorts inside the castle, its immediate reaction 
being more toward what was happening to the dragon.  Were the 
reptile not a murdering beast, Maximus might have found it 
peculiarly touching.  But the dragon was an enemy to man and 
Heaven, and had to be brought down, along with anyone who allied 
themselves with it.  Whatever the attraction was between these 
two disparate beings -- dragon and donkey -- Maximus knew it 
couldn't be love.  Not the pure, innocent love that could only 
exist between people -- real, HUMAN people, properly cast in 
Divine image.  Such a thing was simply not possible.  Speaking of 
people, Maximus looked around him at those people -- those 
citizens -- that were still in the square.  The ones that stayed 
around had stuck close to the buildings, leaving a sizeable 
distance between themselves and the goings-on about the dragon.  
Maximus could see they were simple gawkers, fascinated by the 
spectacle but wishing to take no part.  None seemed to have 
thought of even calling out to their new "queen" about the 
danger, let alone take any active part to support her or her 
allies.  Yes, the lieutenant thought, Duloc was already starting 
to return to blessed normalcy.

But the donkey continued to struggle, its eyes wide in fright and 
horror as it watched the scene taking place around it, and every 
so often glanced up at the high lighted window of the council 
chamber.  Maximus sighed, casually drew his sword and approached 
the animal.  He raised the sword and held it at a position where 
its point was only a couple of inches from the donkey's forehead.  
"Stop that," Maximus said simply but firmly.  The donkey froze 
and then cowered, its eyes crossed where both orbs tried to focus 
on the blade's point at the same time.

Then, from one side of the dragon's snout, a soldier called to 
another on the other side, "Here, let's get this thing muzzled!" 
and tossed a chain to his companion.  As the two soldiers drug 
the chain over the snout to get it into position, it rubbed 
roughly over the beast's nostrils.  The dragon's reflexes 
immediately began to take over.  First the nostrils twitched.  
Then the head began to jerk about as the dragon took a couple of 
short inhales.  It was obvious the monster was about to sneeze, 
and Maximus could tell from the direction that its head was 
pointing that it was going to sneeze directly at him and the 
soldiers restraining the donkey.  

"Oh, oh," Maximus muttered as, at last, the dragon sneezed -- a 
great, smoke-filled sneeze that sent the lieutenant, soldiers, 
and donkey toppling over the cobblestones for several yards and 
filled that part of the square with a dense dark cloud.  Then the 
dragon settled back down and resumed snoring.

Maximus, sword still in hand, struggled to his feet, coughed and 
waved futilely at the smoke all about him.  At first he was 
relieved that no flame had accompanied that smoke.  Then, to his 
terror and frustration, he heard a booming voice bellow from 
somewhere in the fog: "SHREK!  WATCH OUT!  THE SOLDIERS ARE 
COMIN', THE SOLDIERS ARE COMIN'!  SHREEEEK!!!"

"SEIZE HIM!" Maximus ordered, waving his sword in the direction 
where he heard the voice as he began awkwardly moving in that 
direction himself.  He heard some grunts as the soldiers likewise 
stumbling about.

"Got him!" Maximus heard one soldier call, then the heard a loud 
clang as hoof met metal, then a pained curse from the soldier.  
Then Maxmimus heard hoofs clattering on the cobblestones as the 
donkey began to run -- directly toward him.  He could just make 
out the outline of the donkey as it approached, and the 
lieutenant swung his sword.  But the donkey gave a panicked yelp 
as he saw Maximus and his blade, and changed his direction just 
as he ran by, knocking the lieutenant down again as his sword 
swished through air.  Maximus could then hear the donkey's 
receding hoof beats as it fled down one of the alleys away from 
the castle.  

The lieutenant struggled to his feet, and could see the outline 
of the soldiers around the dragon through the dissipating 
smokescreen.  He rushed toward them and called, "BOWMEN, FOLLOW 
ME!  THE REST OF YOU, FINISH SECURING THAT MONSTER AND THEN STAND 
GUARD ON IT!"  Maximus then ran toward the alley that the donkey 
had disappeared down, followed by some half dozen soldiers 
wielding crossbows.  If they couldn't recapture the slippery 
little beast of burden, Maximus at least wanted to be sure it 
wouldn't get away.

*     *     *

Beaglely had made out the papers.  The language was so crisp and 
clean and direct that Fiona wondered for a moment if he was 
really the lawyer he claimed to be.  But there it was, laid out 
in terse and unromantic prose.  Effective at noon the next day, 
"Queen" Fiona would cease to exist.  IF she signed it.  She 
leaned forward in her chair and looked it over.  She sighed one 
more time, slowly and unconsciously twirling the newly wetted 
quill between her thumb and forefinger.  Her eyes drifted 
involuntarily toward the end of the table, where she had sat her 
regal and ornate crown.  And then they drifted a couple of feet 
to its side, where the sunflower she had been given sat in a 
simple, unassuming pale green vase.  That prompted her to shift 
her gaze yet again to Shrek, who sat a few feet away in his own 
chair, his eyes glued on her, his arms folded, his expression an 
odd mixture of hope and anxiety.

He seemed to read the unspoken question in her own face, and 
said, "I dunno, Fiona.  Maybe it ain't in my best interest to say 
so--yours neither, really--but I don't think it'll work.  Still, 
if Beaglely here thinks it will--well, he's been 'round humans a 
lot more'n me."

Fiona nodded and looked back down at the document.  "I guess 
sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith," she said.  "I 
just wish I didn't have to take so many in one blasted day."  She 
inhaled deeply, steeled herself, and then signed the paper with a 
flourish.  She quickly affixed her royal seal, trying not to 
hesitate lest some residual doubts still clamoring at the back of 
her mind rear up and stay her hand.  That done, she looked over 
the signed, sealed paper a few seconds more, then held it out 
toward Beaglely, who had witnessed his queen's last internal 
struggle with what had appeared on the surface to be quiet 
indifference.

"There you are, Mr. Beaglely," Fiona said.  "A republic.  If you 
can keep it."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, his words bland but the 
slight tremor in his hand as he took the paper and looked it over 
betraying some inner emotions fighting against their accustomed 
repression.

"So tell me," Shrek said to Beaglely, the ogre's own demeanor not 
hiding his relief at all, "how long do ye think it'll take for 
Gledius to try 'n crumple up that lil paper of yours 'n seize 
power for himself?"

Fiona shot Shrek a reprehending glare but the ogre seemed, for 
the moment, to be intentionally ignoring her, as if he 
anticipated her reaction.  But Beaglely simply shrugged.  The 
lawyer then replied, "Hopefully it won't be for a while yet.  
With luck, and with the legal backing this document gives us, we 
will get the new government established and running before he 
tries to move.  At that point, law and custom -- two valued 
commodities around here -- will be on our side.  Remember, 
Gledius is not the bravest or boldest of persons.  I don't think 
he'll do anything rash."

It was then that Fiona heard it.  Her trumpet ears involuntarily 
pricked up at the distant but shrill, terrified cry of Donkey 
yelling something about soldiers.  She looked over at Shrek and 
saw that his own ears were also standing at attention, his face 
relaying a mixture of stunned surprise and -- fright?  Whatever, 
it was not reassuring.  The two humans either had not heard the 
sound as clearly or recognized the speaker, but by the ogres' 
reactions they could tell something was terribly amiss.  
Milquest's face drained of its color and his eyes began widening 
in terror, but Beaglely simply stared ahead and expanded on his 
last comment, saying, "Then again, I could be wrong."

Fiona and Shrek simultaneously bounded out of their chairs and 
ran to the balcony.  As they ran, Fiona looked across to the top 
of the church.  She pointed at its roof at Dragon's adopted but 
now empty perch.  Before she could say anything Shrek responded, 
"Yes, I see!"

The two reached the railing and both instinctively looked down at 
the courtyard.  Below them, some soldiers where securing a 
sleeping Dragon with chains while others chased Donkey as he 
disappeared down an alley.

"Oh, for the love o'Pete!" Shrek growled, then pounded the 
railing so hard that Fiona was surprised either it or his hand 
didn't crack.  "Blast it!  I should've been payin' more attention 
out here an' less to that bloody bleedin' lawyer and his bloody 
bleedin' papers!"  He then looked over at her, his expression of 
outrage melting into one of pain and regret.  "I'm sorry, Fiona," 
he said, "I failed ye."

Fiona shook her head.  "Don't be silly!" she said, "If anybody's 
to blame, it's me!  I should've sacked that wannabe despot when I 
had the chance."   Then, as the horror of what the unfolding 
scene below implied played itself out in her mind like falling 
dominoes -- or house of cards -- she added softly, mostly to 
herself, "Or better yet, I should have flown away with you when 
you rescued me."

"Yeah, well, that WOULD'VE been better," Shrek conceded, looking 
down at the courtyard again and thus missing Fiona's open-mouthed 
reaction to his ingenuous comment.  But his demeanor, as he 
looked down, changed yet again into one of contemplation.  He 
scratched his chin in thought, the stubble he unconsciously 
rubbed making loud scratching sounds that sent involuntary 
shivers up Fiona's spine.  Then he added,  "but we gotta deal 
with the hand we're dealt now.  First thing, we gotta get outta 
this place, b'fore--"

At that moment there was a loud pounding at the chamber door, 
followed immediately by Gledius's voice, "OPEN THIS DOOR IN THE 
NAME OF THE LATE KING FARQUAAD!"

The two ogres turned and looked at the door.  "B'fore THIS," 
Shrek said with a resigned sigh.

A moment later there was another pounding at the door, this one 
louder and augmented with the sound of rattling armor.  Fiona 
guessed that two or more soldiers were throwing themselves 
against the door in an attempt to break it in.  She glanced 
toward the humans.  Milquest remained standing, apparently frozen 
in fright, his eyes staring in horror toward the door.  Beaglely 
stood by the table, quickly but efficiently shoving papers back 
into his briefcase.  These included the ones she had just signed, 
which he placed into the case's hidden compartment.

She looked back at Shrek.  As he stared at the room's lone door 
his expression hardened, one eye actually twitching slightly as 
his hands clenched into fists.  "Stay behind me," he ordered as 
he began moving forward toward the door.

Fiona moved forward beside him.

He stopped and looked over at her.  "I said to stay behind me," 
he said with a touch of irritation.

"No," Fiona said firmly, "this is OUR fight."

"I don't want ye t'get hurt," he said, his voice softening 
somewhat.

"That's sweet," she said, trying to keep her own voice hard as 
she continued to stare at the door, "but I'm quite capable of 
handling myself in a fight, as you might have noticed back in the 
forest with Monsieur Hood's men.  Remember that little incident 
where I saved your life?"

"You didn't save my life," Shrek said.

Fiona turned toward him, gaping.  She rested her hands on her 
hips and demanded, "What do you MEAN, I didn't save your life?!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong!" he said, "I mean, I really appreciate 
ye stickin' up for me there.  An' you were a real hellion, takin' 
out those robbers!  I was really impressed!  I mean, I couldn't 
've done much better m'self--"

"'MUCH' better?!"

Shrek bit his lip at the slip, then tried to explain as the door 
pounding continued in the background.  "What I MEAN is--well, he 
was just one guy--"

"One guy with a dagger, set to 'ram it through your heart,' if I 
recall correctly," Fiona spat, pronouncing the quote with a mock 
French accent.

"Yeah, but--c'mon, Fiona.  Don't ye think, with all the humans 
I've had t'deal with in m'life, I could'a handled one guy with a 
knife?"

"One guy?  ONE GUY?  Oh, did you overlook that little backup band 
he had trailing him? The ones that I took out by MYSELF while YOU 
stood by holding your ass?"

Shrek sighed in frustration and ran one hand over his bald head.  
"Okay. FINE." he said,  "As you say, My Love, ye probably saved 
m'life back there.  In fact, I'm sure ye did.  And I really 
appreciate it, Fiona, I really do.  Now, can we please just drop 
it an' get back ta--"

"DON'T PATRONIZE ME!"

Shrek had started to turn toward the door, which was beginning to 
buckle.  But now he reluctantly turned back toward his True Love.  
"I'm not patronizin'," he objected.

"OH YES YOU ARE!  If you don't think I saved your life, then just 
SAY so!"

"I DID say so!  I SAID I didn't think ye saved my life!"

"WHAT?!  How could you SAY that?!!"

Shrek let out a loud moan of exasperation and pounded his 
forehead with the heel of his palm.  Suddenly the door finally 
burst open and a group of soldiers spilled into the room.  About 
a dozen of them quickly formed a line near the door, some with 
swords drawn and some with battleaxes ready, and faced the two 
ogres.  But the favor was not returned.  Fiona and Shrek 
continued to face each other, seemingly oblivious to the 
intrusion.

"Hey!" Shrek argued, "I SAID at the TIME that what ye did was 
amazing!  YOU'RE the one that just shrugged it off like it was 
nothin'!"

"I was TRYING to be MODEST.  Or, as you so succinctly put it, I 
was still trying to act like 'some shallow, cookie-cutter 
caricature of some silly fairy-tale version of a princess.'  I 
ASSUMED we were past such pretenses now.  But here you are, still 
hung up on your 'I'm a big bad ogre and don't need any help from 
anybody' trip."

"Look, Fiona, just tell me what you want from me."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, crossing her arms, "Maybe a little 
acknowledgment that I've been some HELP to you, that I've 
actually CONTRIBUTED something to this little adventure, that I'm 
more than some prize to be fought over."

"But -- but you HAVE!  And you ARE!  You ARE a prize, a greater 
jewel than could be found in any crown!  You're beautiful, you're 
smart, and -- you wanna talk about brave?  My God, woman, we 
don't even need to MENTION the bandits -- an' maybe you're right, 
maybe you DID save m'life and I'm just still stuck up on my 'ogre 
trip,' -- what you did in the church, steppin' away from Farquaad 
like that -- THAT was the bravest thing I've ever seen in m'life!  
Braver than anything I'VE ever done!  Contributed?  You've done 
MORE than contributed.  An' you're MORE'n just a prize.  You're ... 
my hero."

Fiona stared at Shrek, her arms dropping to her sides.  She 
opened her mouth to say something, but was suddenly at a loss for 
words.  Shrek cast his eyes down and bit his lip again as a flush 
came to his cheeks.  He had obviously gone further than he had 
meant to go.  Much further.  Fiona felt all traces of anger melt 
away, replaced by an emotion much stronger and purer.

Then the moment of awkward silence was shattered by derisive 
laughter coming from one voice -- one irascibly familiar voice.  
The ogres turned to see Gledius standing at one end of the line 
of soldiers, his helmet's visor raised and a bemused expression 
on his face.  "Now that was SO sweet," he said mockingly.  "And I 
hate to break up this little scene before someone starts singing 
about wind beneath their wings, but there's a small matter of 
conspiracy to commit regicide that, I'm afraid to say, you're 
BOTH under arrest for."

Fiona felt anger pour back into her veins again, this time 
directed at the armor-clad captain.  But there was something 
about his soldiers -- Fiona hadn't noticed their demeanor when 
they had first entered, and could hardly read their expressions 
through the visors that covered their faces.  But their body 
language, the way they shifted in place, the occasional glance to 
their fellow soldier, the way they held their weapons at the 
ready with less than total conviction -- perhaps it was 
witnessing the exchange between Shrek and herself, but she 
thought she might have a chance here to avoid a fight which, 
although it might provide for some personal satisfaction on a gut 
level, might also have more negative repercussions for Duloc in 
the future.

Fiona mustered all the dignity she could and summoned forth her 
"royal" persona as she pointed an accusatory finger at Gledius 
and spoke.  "You, Sir, have greatly exceeded your authority.  As 
queen of this realm, I hereby dismiss you from your post in the 
royal guards.  Further, I order YOU placed under arrest for 
treason to Crown and Country."  She then addressed the soldiers 
while still pointing to Gledius.  "Guards, take him away!" she 
ordered, filling her voice with as much strength and confidence 
as she could manage.

The soldiers began looking at each other in earnest now, their 
confusion obvious and pronounced.  Gledius also looked taken 
aback and more than a bit frightened.  Then he recomposed himself 
somewhat and laughed again, although the confidence the laugh 
held was more forced than before.  "Nice try, Your Murderess," he 
said, "but I fear that your position, when acquired by killing 
our king, carries no authority.  I have already convinced these 
men of your complicity in the vile crime."

"Have you?" Fiona retorted.  "And may I not have a chance to 
convince them otherwise?"

Gledius paused for a moment, then said reluctantly, "You may," he 
said, "at your trial."

"MY trial?" Fiona said, and it was her turn to let out a non-
entirely-heartfelt laugh.  Then she turned to Beaglely, who had 
been calmly standing by and watching the proceedings with his 
trademark expressionless eyes.  "Mr. Beaglely," Fiona said, 
starting to feel the confidence she feigned, "what does Dulocian 
law say about this situation?"

Fiona spent a very quick glance in Shrek's direction.  He was 
looking at her with the same bemused admiration he had displayed 
the afternoon before when she had feigned concern for Donkey's 
health as an excuse to spend more time with her Rescuer.  She 
just hoped that her performance now was more persuasive than the 
ruse that still managed to convince Donkey.  Now, if only 
Beaglely came through...

But Beaglely was taking his time about coming through.  Too much 
time.  He glanced from Fiona to Gledius to the soldiers and back 
again, not in fear or confusion but like a mathematician studying 
a long and complex formula laid out before him on a chalkboard.

"Mr. Beaglely?" Fiona said again, trying to keep the concern from 
showing in her voice.

"Actually, Your Majesty," he finally said in his calm and 
analytical monotone, "Captain Gledius has a point.  As Captain of 
the Guards, it is his duty to protect the rightful ruler of 
Duloc.  If he feels that that ruler has met his end by foul 
means, he is obliged to take appropriate action."

"WHAT?!" Fiona half-gasped, half-screamed, her brain reeling at 
the words coming forth from the bespeckled little man.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Beaglely said, his voice not 
reflecting sorrow nor any other emotion, despite the queen's 
obvious distress, "but he is within his rights under Dulocian 
law.  Yours is not an ABSOLUTE monarchy.  You may, of course, 
dismiss him if you wish -- AFTER you have been cleared in lawful 
trial."

Fiona could only gape in soundless horror at Beaglely, who looked 
back calmly.  Then Gledius's mirthless laughter began again, its 
confidence more than regained.  "Well, now, Mr. City Manager, 
forgive my cynicism, but your actions now reminds me of a rat 
attempting to leave a sinking ship."  Fiona felt herself in rare 
agreement about the 'rat' part as Gledius continued, "But do you 
really think you can avoid answering for your role in this 
conspiracy by betraying your green-skinned confederates now?"

Beaglely's demeanor did not change, although he did raise an 
eyebrow.  "Conspiracy?" he asked calmly.  "I had no role in any 
conspiracy.  I had not met the queen nor her companions, nor had 
any communication with them, before tonight.  My role began when 
she gained the crown.  Under the -- unusual circumstance where 
that happened, it was my duty to offer immediate advice and 
council, lest the situation or their impending departure bring 
forth anarchy.  I had to make sure order was maintained."

"-I- would have maintained order," Gledius said, a smirk at the 
corner of his mouth, as his hand almost involuntarily rose and 
rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have," Beaglely said, voicing the same 
words that went through Fiona's mind but not accented with the 
sarcasm that she would have tinged them with.  "But I believed 
that a more conventional approach to Dulocian law was called 
for."

"You call turning over power to an ogre CONVENTIONAL?" Gledius 
demanded.

"I did not turn power over to her.  That was done through the 
marriage.  My job was to define and defend the law.  That was my 
service to her.  And, by the obligation of my position, it is now 
my service to you."

Gledius's face transformed from incredulity to self-satisfied 
triumph as he regarded the City Manager.  Meanwhile, Fiona felt 
her heart sank.  She turned away from Beaglely and looked at 
Milquest.  "Lord Mayor?" she said, unable to maintain confidence 
in her voice, which now sounded more pleading as she fought to 
keep back tears.

Milquest also stood where he was, motionless but not 
expressionless.  With Fiona's words, all eyes in the room turned 
to him, and he responded by breaking out in a sweat as his own 
eyes widened in fear and his mouth started working nervously but 
soundlessly.

"The Mayor was also simply performing his duty," Beaglely quickly 
interceded.  "He would not even be here had it not been for my 
pointing out that his position required an immediate consultation 
with the new monarch."

"The FORMER monarch," Gledius corrected.

Beaglely shrugged.  "As God wills," he said.

Fiona stared at Beaglely, dumbfounded.  He looked back, not even 
averting his eyes, his blank expression not relaying even a hint 
of remorse for his treachery.  She felt the stab of betrayal sink 
deep into her, gutting her soul.  For a moment she felt forlornly 
empty.  Then she felt something begin to fill the void.  
Something hot and volatile.  The fury she felt at Beaglely -- at 
Gledius, at Milquest, at ALL of the humans within the room -- 
rose within her like a tidal wave rose as it neared the beach, 
and at that moment, she felt as if she could do more damage than 
even THAT irresistible force of nature.  She looked at the 
soldiers, the candlelight glinting off of their weapons, weapons 
which they all quickly brought back to the ready as they saw her 
new expression -- her bared teeth, vengeful eyes, and the bright 
reddish-green glow of her flushed skin.  How many soldiers were 
there now?  Fifteen?  Maybe more?  She saw there were some others 
in a second line behind the first.  It didn't matter.  With a 
deep growl in her throat she didn't know she was capable of, she 
raised her hands -- now clenched into talons -- and started 
striding toward them.

She was stopped in mid-stride by a firm hand grasping her upper 
arm from behind.

"NO, Fiona," Shrek said, his voice as firm and hard as the grip 
he had on her arm.

She whirled toward him, her eyes still ablaze.  He looked at her, 
his own expression hard and his jaw set.  "LET ME GO," she 
demanded.

"No," he said, quickly grabbing her other upper arm with his 
other hand, "there's too many, and they're too ready."

"I DON'T CARE! LET ME GO!" She shouted, and tried to pull away.

Shrek fought hard to keep hold of her.  "NO! FIONA! NOT NOW!" he 
shouted back.

Fiona stopped fighting for a moment and tried to think. The way 
he was currently holding her, she could probably grasp his own 
arms in return, then she could fall down and backwards, which 
would force him to fall over top of her.  As they rolled 
backwards, she could bring her feet up to his midsection and 
assist his fall by flipping him upwards and over her head.  He 
would land a few feet away on his back, thus breaking his hold 
and allowing her to -- to what? Fight a group of heavily armed 
soldiers on her own?  True, she had bested the merry men in her 
human state -- a more agile yet weaker state.  But she had taken 
them by surprise, and there was only a fraction as many.  Here, 
her chances of emerging unscathed -- even alive -- were not 
great.  But part of her actually embraced the thought as it 
considered the alternative.  The life expectancy of deposed 
monarchs was not long anyway.  On the plus side, it would 
alleviate the pain of betrayal and self-loathing she felt for her 
own gullibility at getting her and Shrek into this.  Shrek.  What 
would then become of him?  Nothing good, no doubt.  And all 
because he was fool enough to love her.  Her, the biggest fool of 
them all.

Just then her thoughts were disrupted by Shrek jerking her 
forwards to him.  Suddenly his arms were around her in a strong 
embrace, and his mouth by her ear.  "It's okay," he said, trying 
to sound soothing, "It's okay, Love.  We'll get through this.  
But we can't fight them now.  Not right now.  We've got to bide 
our time."

"And how much time do you think they've give us to bide?" she 
whispered back, her voice cracking.

"Enough.  We'll have enough.  Have faith in that."

"I--I--I have faith in YOU," she said, and finally her voice 
cracked altogether.  She sank against him, holding him tightly, 
and started to sob uncontrollably. 

"I'm sorry," she gasped between sobs, "I'm SO sorry I got you 
into this."

"Shhhh.  It's okay."

"No it's not!  I just wanted to--"

"I know.  It's okay.  It's okay.  It's t'be expected.  It's not 
your fault.  They're only human."

"But -- but *I* was human," Fiona sobbed.  The last time she had 
spoken those words she had done it defensively.  Now it sounded 
apologetic.

"I know," Shrek said.  "But you were ... different."

Fiona felt her strength -- both physical and emotional -- 
collapse.  She leaned more heavily against Shrek, and he pulled 
her closer to him and held her protectively in his broad arms.  
He patted her back and then reached up and stroked her hair.  
"It's okay," he repeated softly, "we'll get through this.  It's 
okay."

Gledius watched the two with a smirk of triumph.  The queen was 
broken, and as to her companion -- well, there was time enough to 
decide that.  After all, he WAS just a big, stupid, ugly ogre.  
Gledius wandered to the end of the council table and ran a finger 
along the crown that sat there.  "It seems the queen has fallen 
down and lost her crown," he said bemusedly.  Then he picked up 
the sunflower from it vase, looked at it for a moment, smelled 
it, then replaced it.  "And the ogre shall go tumbling 
afterwards," he added, then he tipped the vase over and it fell 
off the table.  It struck the floor and shattered into many pale 
green shards, the sunflower laying amongst them, helpless and 
alone.  With deliberation, Gledius laid his heel on the flower's 
bulb -- and ground it into pieces.  Then he turned to his 
soldiers.  "Take them away," he said.