All right, buckle up! There's been a lag in my FanFiction lately, but THAT, my friends, is about to change. ^^ With pride I present to you my brand-new baby, my epic multi-chapter adventure.

First of all, yes, it's about The Princess Bride, of which I own nothing. At all. Secondly, you ask, "which version are you going off of? The book or the movie?" ^^ MY ANSWER: A blend. For instance, their daughter Waverly was in the book, and she's my main character, but if I'm referencing a line or something it wil most likely be from the movie. (Oh, and since GOLDMAN never finished writing the sequel, I don't know if they'd have more kids or not, so I just left the topic alone. Waverly may have siblings, she may not; your guess is as good as mine. But I'm not creating them.)

ONE MORE THING: Since the full title of the book is "The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale Of True Love And High Adventure," XD , I've decided to follow suit. SO. The full title of the story you are hopefully about to enjoy is THIS:

The Pirate Princess: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale Of Swashbuckling Thrill And The Bonds Of Family.

XD Well, here goes nothing! Enjoy....



"Is he here yet?"

"Not yet, sweetie. Play your video games."

"He said he'd come!"

"Well, I'm sure he's on his way."

As if on cue, the old man burst into the room with his usual flair, giving a wink to his grandson he hadn't seen in weeks. He held something behind his back, and the boy was positive he knew exactly what.

"Grandpa, Grandpa! Didja bring it? Didja bring The Princess Bride? C'mon, I know it's behind your back---lemme see."

"Hold it, sickie, don't get your shorts in a knot." The old man pulled a chair up to the boy's bedside as his mother slipped quietly from the room. He took his time sitting down---his ancient knees didn't behave as they once did---and pulled a worn hardcover book from behind his back.

From the boy: "All right! I told you. Start at the 'Farm boy' part this time; that was good." He didn't bother to notice that, where the old book had a brown cover, this one was bound in navy blue.

The grandfather smiled. "It's not The Princess Bride."

The boy stopped. "Huh?"

"I brought ya something a little different this time. Oh sure, same characters and all, but...well. You'll see." He licked his thumb and brought it down to crack open the pages.

"So, is it like a sequel?"

"Something like that. Now shut up."




It was just after midnight on the small farm, and there was no light around for miles, none but the moon. Waverly lay sound asleep in her room, dreaming of traveling the world on her horse---and, it has to be said, that even at the tender age of fourteen, even there, asleep in the moonlight, Waverly was easily the most beautiful girl the human eye had yet seen. This she owed strongly to her mother, Buttercup, who, at Waverly's age, was only barely in the top twenty. Now she rested quite happily at number two, quite satisfied with deferring the honor to her daughter---that is, she would have been, if all this was something that either of them had been aware of.

Waverly's sharp mind, however, her knack for learning and her bravery, these things were owed to her father, Westley. Her fencing skill, unheard of in any other girl her age, was owed him too, and also to her 'uncle' of sorts, a mighty swordsman by the name of Inigo Montoya. He slept as well, several rooms away, on the opposite wall from the gentle giant whom Waverly had always called 'Shade.'

Now, it should go without saying, Buttercup and Westley were fast asleep also, rooms away from the others. Westley was on his side of the bed, Buttercup on hers, they were in each other's arms, Buttercup's autumn hair fanned out across the pillow....

And then suddenly, she wasn't; her form snatched away, her place empty.

From out of thin air, two men dressed in soldier's uniforms had Buttercup by the wrists and ankles. Now she was awake, but it was too late to cry out; now she was bound and gagged.

Westley was awake long before that.

His eyes flashed open, his feet met the ground, his hand flew for his sword. The intruders drew theirs, and there was a clash of steel.

The two tried to overcome him with speed, but Westley was stronger. They tried to best him with strength, but Westley was faster. Each crash of his sword put fear into their eyes; each step he advanced on them sent them hurrying into retreat.

And then they tried to beat him with numbers.

Westley's advantage over the first two was just becoming clear, their surrender imminent, when another ran in to defend them, joining in the duel. Then a fourth. A fifth. Six men now. Seven.

Westley tried every style, every move in the book, but even his quickest Bonetti was no match for this many men; even he at his best couldn't hope to come out of this alone. He was clearly outnumbered and was just about to shout for Inigo.

He never got the chance.

One of them was behind Westley now, and any expert could tell you that once such a stage was reached, it was all over. Without hesitation he raised the butt of his sword, aimed for the head, clubbed.

And all Westley knew was darkness.



Review! I'll be eternally grateful... ;]