The mountain was steep, the heat suffocating, and the smell of sulfur stung the nostrils. Shrek, dripping with sweat, wiped his forehead and glanced at the donkey dragging his hooves behind him.
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— You think she’s pretty? the Donkey asked, blinking. ’Cause seriously, between the cliffs, the moat, and the piles of bones… I’m not feeling optimistic.
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Shrek grunted, adjusted his leather strap, and muttered:
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— Doesn’t matter. I’m not here to fall in love. We find the princess, take her to that short stack Farquaad, and I get my swamp back. End of story.
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They climbed the last few steps to the main tower. The dragon — oddly well-manicured — let them pass with a sigh and went back to flipping through a magazine called Draco Glam. The Donkey froze, eyes wide.
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— That dragon just told us to go up… and not mess up her manicure. I’m not hallucinating, right? She talked, didn’t she?
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Shrek didn’t answer. He kicked the tower door wide open.
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— PRINCESS FIONA?!
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The crash cut off the upbeat music. Feathers flew. Nail polish spilled. And four pairs of eyes turned toward him.
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In the center of the room, sitting on a plush pink pouf, Fiona — dressed in leggings and a “Born to Reign” t-shirt — held a pineapple cocktail. Around her, Snow White was playing Uno with Little Red Riding Hood, while Cinderella organized sheet masks in a mini-fridge.
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Fiona stood, hands on her hips.
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— Who’s that?
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— Uhh… he’s an ogre, giggled Snow White. Cute boots.
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Shrek, clearly thrown by the scene, paused a beat before speaking.
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— Uh… yeah. Hi. Princess Fiona, I assume? I was sent by Lord Farquaad. He wants to marry you, and he sent me to come get you. So… let’s go.
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Fiona blinked slowly.
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Then burst into laughter.
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— Wait… wait… you seriously just barge in here, all like “Hey, come with me,” no shining armor, no horse, no flowers… and you expect me to just leave? Tonight? During this?
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— Listen, I crossed a swamp, almost got toasted by a dragon, and haven’t slept in two days. I’m not here for nail polish or party games. You’re coming with me. Now.
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She rolled her eyes and pointed at the coffee table.
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— We are in the middle of girls’ night. Cinderella’s doing bath potion workshops, Snow White set up a medieval music quiz, and Red brought homemade hazelnut cookies.
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— They’re gluten-free, added Red proudly.
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— So, sorry Mister Ogre, but I’m not about to ditch my besties for some random guy in smelly leather who can’t even say “hello, princess.” If Lord Farquaad wants me that bad, he can wait. Come back tomorrow. After brunch.
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The Donkey, who had crept in behind Shrek, raised a hopeful hoof.
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— Can I… maybe have a cookie?
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The dragon rolled a tray toward him with one wing. The Donkey squealed with joy.
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Shrek scowled.
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— You realize I risked my life getting here? I’m supposed to rescue you.
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Fiona crossed her arms.
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— And I’m supposed to swoon because you showed up? No flowers, no courtesy, no explanation — just “let’s go”? You’re not here to save anyone. You’re here to finish a job.
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Shrek muttered under his breath.
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— I’m just trying to get rid of the little creep who stole my swamp…
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Fiona smirked.
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— So we all have our reasons. You’ve got your swamp. I’ve got my girls’ night. So here’s the deal: tomorrow evening, 6:30. Knock three times, I’ll fake a scream, the dragon will roar, you carry me down, and boom — you’ve got your story. Cool?
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Shrek sighed, defeated.
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— Great…
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The door slowly shut. A hand-painted wooden sign hung from the knob:
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“Queens’ Night — No Boys, No Drama.”
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Shrek stood in silence for a moment, then grumbled:
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— What kind of messed-up kingdom is this…
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— Honestly? I think it’s amazing, said the Donkey, mouth full. They’ve got style. And snacks. Look — I got a hot towel that smells like lavender!
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As they made their way down the spiral staircase, the dragon yawned lazily and wished them goodnight… with a puff of glittery smoke.
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Tomorrow would be another day.
But tonight, the top of the tower belonged to princesses, gossip, glitter, and unapologetic girl power.
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