This is a story Young at Heart21 helped me come up with. There are several more Princess Bride stories I'll be writing soon too. Hopefully, this one is good and the rest will be too. Enjoy and thanks Young at Haert21!


A Vendetta is Born

Inigo watched his father work diligently at polishing the golden, glittering sword before him. It had been a year since his father had begun this work, and he had slaved over the beautiful piece before him and nothing else, turning down all other requests and offers so nothing distracted him from this masterpiece.

"Father, why do you only work on this sword?" Inigo asked, blinking up at his father with wide adoring eyes. As the best sword maker in the world, Inigo believed his father should be making every sword in the whole country of Spain.

Domingo Montoya looked down at his son, a smile pulling at his lips. "I work only on this sword, Inigo, because the pay I have been offered for it will be greater than all the other offers I've had added together, my young son. The money I will get from this sword alone will assure that we never need worry over money again."

Inigo grinned up at his father. The thought of never having to hear his parents worrying over money, though he was still too young to understand why it was as important as they claimed it was, was one that made him happy. His parents would never tell him, but they were constantly worrying over how much money they had, how much Domingo would make, and more that Inigo couldn't comprehend.

Domingo looked up at the sound of hoof beats. Looking back down at his young son, he smiled and turned him toward the opposite doorway from the sound, patting his back as he sent him off. "Go see what your dear mother is doing," he instructed as he put away his tools and laid the sword out on his work table.

"Yes, Father," Inigo murmured on a sigh, taking off at a run. Maybe if he got inside soon enough and his mother sent him away because she didn't need his help, he could make it back in time to see his father collect their money from the count who'd hired him.

Hurrying inside, Inigo ran to the small table taking up most of the room in their kitchen. His mother stood at the fire, stirring the stew that would be their dinner. "Do you need any help?" he asked quickly, hoping she told him no so he could run back out to the barn with his father.

Alicia turned to look at her some, raising an eyebrow at his expression. He was hoping she would tell him no so he could go back out with his father. "Actually, I do need you to do something for me." The look on her son's face made her laugh out loud. "I want you to go tell your father that supper will be on the table in a few minutes, so as soon as he's done selling that blasted sword he needs to wash up."

"Yes, Mother!" Inigo cried excitedly, spinning on his heel so he could rush back out the door. His father's workplace was just around the corner and, in his haste to reach his destination before his father sold the sword to this rich count, Inigo paid no attention to the loud voices coming from inside until he was at the back door. When he finally realized his father and the count were arguing, it was too late and he was already rounding the corner and entering the old barn.

"This isn't what I asked for!" the count roared at Domingo, face turning a bright shade of red in his anger. "I'll pay you one-tenth of the price I originally offered."

"I will not accept it," Domingo argued in return, irritation evident in his voice. "You promised me the whole thing, not one-tenth. I held up my end. I made the sword exactly as you told me to. It is not my fault you are now displeased with it. Maybe you should have thought about that when you hired me and explained, in great detail, what it was to look like!"

The count was almost purple by now. "No one dares to talk back at me!" he bellowed. With the sword in his hand and Domingo unarmed, the count lifted the weapon he'd refused to pay full price for and, looking over at the boy standing silent in the doorway, trust it into Domingo's chest, effectively piercing his heart.

Inigo stopped in his tracks, his whole world crashing around him as he watched his father's shocked expression turn his way as he slid to his knees and then fell to the ground. His head fell so he could see his son just before the life left his soft green eyes and his eyelids slipped shut.

"No!" Inigo screamed, tortured. His father couldn't be dead. This was the man who he'd thought would always be there, who had promised to always be there when he needed him the most.

Lifting his head, Inigo stared at the count that, barely sparing him a single glance, began cleaning his newly acquired blade on Domingo's shirt. Glancing around as hatred stirred in his chest, Inigo's eyes landed on an old sword of his father's that he'd never sold. Grabbing it, he pointed the blade at the man before him as he growled, "I challenge you to a duel for killing my father."

The count laughed, throwing his head back as he looked the lad over dubiously. When the boy didn't lower the sword but, instead, stepped forward, he sighed and lifted his own piece. "Fine, then let us begin."

It wasn't long before the old sword flew from Inigo's hands and he was left to face the man without a weapon. Without saying a word, the man quickly slid his blade across both Inigo's cheeks.

As the blood began to flow from his wounds, the count explained, "I'm leaving you alive, but those are to remind you of how I could have killed you, of how I could have taken your life away just as easily as I took away your worthless father's." With that said the count kicked the boy to the ground and spat on him, putting his unrightfully obtained sword in the sheath at his waist and turning away.

Inigo watched the count, reaching up to swipe at the blood and spit on his cheek, as he climbed on his horse. The man turned back to look at him and, sending him a cruel smile, lifted his right hand to wave at Inigo before he turned his horse away and rode off.

In that brief moment, Inigo was able to count that the count had six, not five, fingers on his right hand, a trait that would make him easily recognizable once he found him again.

Inigo watched until he couldn't see the count anymore before crawling over to Domingo's lifeless body. Aware of the tears now running down his face, Inigo pulled his father's head into his lap, cradling him as he swore, "One day, Father, I will hunt down the six fingered man and get revenge for you. I won't rest until I do." Looking up, he stared at the spot where the man had stood as hatred and the need to avenge his father became his sole purpose

He vowed not only to his father, but also to himself, that he would never rest until his sword pierced the heart of the six-fingered man, killing him in the exact way he'd killed his father.

It was a few minutes before Inigo looked away from that spot, until he looked down at the man he'd looked up most to. Holding his father's head, he whispered, "I know what I'll say to him too. 'Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' I'll tell him that as I stab the six fingered man in the heart, just like he stabbed you."