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Title: The Double Sword Cross
Ficverse: Leverage & The Princess Bride
Series: The Princess Bride Job, 16/18
Rating: Gen / PG-13
Length: 1600 ish / 29,500 ish
Characters: Team Leverage, Westley, Humperdinck, Buttercup, the king, Inigo, Rugen
Summary: Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Revenge. Giants. Monsters. Chases. Escapes. True love. Miracles. And hitter, hacker, grifter, thief, mastermind.
Notes: OMG are Buttercup and Inigo going to be okay I CAN'T WATCH
Disclaimers: Yeah. None of it's mine, apart from the idea to mix'n'match, and in abstract that's not mine either. I am now directly lifting some lines from the PB screenplay, as if anybody can't tell.
Spoilers: Most of The Princess Bride, eventually.
Concrit: go for it

Previously, on "The Princess Bride Job":
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen
The entire chapel seemed frozen in the grip of the tableau in the aisle. Humperdinck and Westley glowered at one another over Buttercup’s shoulder, neither moving to attempt to break the impasse. For her part, Buttercup’s eyes fixed blankly on Humperdinck while her mouth pulled down unhappily, seeming simultaneously strained and resigned at being the object of a death threat yet again.

“Wait, whoa, whoa –” said Nate quickly, breaking the tense silence. “Look.... You don’t want to do that – a room full of witnesses –”

“Oh, I can do it,” Humperdinck answered confidently, glancing around at the crowd without much concern. “I am still the crown prince of Florin. I can take whatever steps I need to in defence of my person and my country against treason. Get back!” He glared at Westley, then looked past him to the people in the back of the chapel. “Call my guards! Tell that big oaf at the door to get out of the way!”

Humperdinck’s words died away, leaving an uneasy lull. Then the king spoke into the hush, his frail voice easy to hear for the rapt audience. “Is what she said true?” he asked, slowly, but with deep misgiving.

Humperdinck did a double-take at his father, then noticed his mother’s furrowed brow where she stood behind him, and laughed nervously. “Father – no, of course not –”

The king appeared to be a little shaky on the recent revelations, but his eyes had fixed upon Buttercup. “Child, has my son tried to hurt you?”

“I would never –!” Humperdinck belatedly remembered that he was holding the tip of his sword to her throat, and became momentarily lost for words as he searched for a more plausible tack. “That is –”

The king shuffled up to Buttercup and took her hand, ignoring the blade Humperdinck held. “What happened? Speak up, though, I can’t hear a damn thing these days.”

Buttercup’s eyes focused on the king, his worried kindliness drawing her out of her slight daze. She paused, an expression almost of apology on her face at having to accuse his own son to him, but a quick look at Humperdinck along the length of the sword firmed her resolve. “He tried to have me killed,” she said ringingly. “To stir up war with Guilder.”

“Guilder?” the king repeated in crotchety suprise. “The hell he will! That last war took us years to sort out!” He turned to Humperdinck severely. “Boy, what have you been doing?”

“Er –” Humperdinck trailed off, feeling a cold steel touch on his throat. Turning his head very carefully, he discovered that Westley had used the distraction well. Sophie had also been shifting quietly around him, and now darted forward to snatch Buttercup safely out of the reach of his blade.

Westley’s tone carried a full payload of cold hostility, but he made his suggestion lightly. “Drop your sword.”


Inigo barely brought his sword up to deflect Rugen’s thrust, the count’s sword slewing deeply into his shoulder. Inigo didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem to notice, as though his mind were on other things. Rugen drew back and aimed for his heart again, but Inigo parried the blow into his other arm, registering no more reaction at it than last time.

Eliot watched, off to one side, his clenched jaw and taut shoulders the only sign of his ruthlessly curbed desire to step in.

Inigo managed to straighten fully, and Rugen hesitated before hastily lunging a third time. Inigo caught and met the attack, making Rugen draw back, cautious, and very slowly Inigo pushed away from the wall.

“Hello,” said Inigo, voice all but sucked dry by his effort to stand and take a few small steps forward. “My name ... is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father ... prepare to die.”

Even those few words were enough to make him lurch, and he kept himself from falling by catching at the beautifully laden table by his side, bowing in pain.

As though sensing the necessity, Rugen threw himself at Inigo, striking with power and precision, making no superfluous effort in the urgent attempt to kill him immediately.

Inigo brought up his defence only at the very last moment, stepping away from the table; but in the flurry of blows, not one new wound appeared on him.

The count kept backing up and Inigo followed, standing straighter, voice a little more audible as he nodded with conviction.

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father – prepare to die.”

Rugen charged Inigo again, with a manic skill that made Eliot hold his breath without even realizing it, but he still could not land a blow. They circled the fire pit in the middle of the room, fencing with incredible speed, when a sudden slash of Inigo’s blade threw Rugen off balance. He spun, knocking into a table before he recovered his footing, sending the table settings flying with a harsh clatter. With each step, Inigo’s body and voice had firmed, becoming strong, driving.

“Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya – you killed my father – prepare to die.”

“Stop saying that!” Rugen spat, making a wild swing at him.

Inigo snapped it aside easily, but instead of a killing blow, he stabbed Rugen in the shoulder, mirroring the wound on himself.

Rugen gasped at it, then swung again. Inigo only ducked, coming up with a thrust into Rugen’s other shoulder. “Hello!” he roared against a backdrop of clanging steel, herding Rugen back across the hall. “My name is Ingio Montoya! You killed my father, prepare to die!”

Rugen’s retreat was checked by the head table, and he gave an almost involuntary cry. “No!”

Without missing a beat, Inigo flicked his sword at Rugen’s face, slicing a line across his cheek. “Offer me money,” he said, wild-eyed.

“Yes,” Rugen hissed quickly.

Inigo added a matching cut to Rugen’s other cheek. “Power too – promise me that!”

“All that I have and more,” said the count, eyes wide with desperation, not even trying to defend himself anymore against Inigo’s furious mastery. “Please.”

Inigo took a step back, keeping his sword trained on Rugen. He threw his other hand, slick with blood, out wide. “Offer me everything I ask for....”

“Anything you want!” Rugen made the promise even as he knocked Inigo’s sword aside and rushed him. But Inigo caught Rugen’s arm easily, and rammed his own sword home.

“I want my father back, you son of a bitch!” Inigo snarled, and twisted the blade with relish, staring into Rugen’s eyes as the life drained out of them. Then he unceremoniously brought his foot up, bracing to pull the sword out, watching the body crumple to the floor.

For a moment, the realization of his revenge seemed to hold him up. Then he blinked and stumbled a little, sagging.

Eliot appeared at his shoulder and eased him down onto the dais, propping him back against one of the thick table legs behind them, leaving bloody smears on the tablecloth. As he did so, the faded scars on either of Inigo’s cheeks caught his eye, and he spared a single glance for the bloody body next to them.

Then he met the swordsman’s eyes and exchanged a dark, satisfied smile with him.

As though sensing the silence of completion that had fallen in the room on their coms, Parker spoke up. “~Eliot?~”

“It’s done.”

Her satisfaction was palpable. “~Good.~”

Eliot crouched down beside Inigo, gently pulling his hand away from his stomach. “Let me have a look.”

“The others –” Inigo said, wincing in pain.

Eliot shrugged lightly, but just to make sure, he checked. “Hardison?”

“~They actually seem to have gotten things under control in there,~” the hacker said, relief in his voice. “~I think you’re okay.~”

“They’re okay,” said Eliot to Inigo. “They’ll let us know if they need us. Stay still.” He sucked breath through his teeth at the wound, and shook his head, admiration on his face. “Man, I’ve seen some beserker rages in my time, but that was pretty impressive.”

Inigo let his head loll back, resting against the table leg. “Thank you,” he said exhaustedly.


Humperdinck dropped his sword with a muffled thunk on the carpet that ran up the aisle, and Buttercup broke from Sophie’s protective hold to pick it up. She held it with some level of familiarity, keeping it low but threatening, glaring at Humperdinck.

“Ahh ...” he said worriedly, eyeing the way she quivered a little in anger, a mounting tension that was threatening to go off in any direction.

She took a half step forward. “You....” Her mouth clamped while she searched for the words to hurl at him, and the sword twitched restlessly in her hand.

Nate’s eyes found Sophie’s, but she was already moving to defuse the situation. She strode past Buttercup to Humperdinck, who once again displayed a moment of hope that some kind of rescue was at hand. Only to have it dashed by a slap that echoed hard around the hall, and snapped his head to the side with the force of it.

Sophie wrung her stinging hand a little, careful not to betray her internal gratification at it, or to catch Nate’s twinkling eye. “You complete bastard!” she added, for good measure.

Buttercup took this in appraisingly, then transferred the sword to her other hand. She moved closer to Humperdinck, who looked very much like he wanted to back away; but Westley, wearing a proud smirk for his true love, wasn't letting him. She scowled at Humperdinck for a long second, drew her hand back, and put all her weight behind the slap to his already bright red cheek.

“~Whoa,~” said Hardison approvingly, watching the scene on the video feed. “~Nice follow-through.~

Chapter Seventeen


( 4 speakses — have a speak )
May. 5th, 2010 08:45 am (UTC)
Wooooo! :D I love that you kept Inigo's revenge as is, it was my favourite bit of the film. Great job
May. 5th, 2010 10:14 pm (UTC)
Hell yes, you don't mess with perfection. You just thank the writers and describe it!

Thanks :)
May. 5th, 2010 09:03 am (UTC)
YAY YAY YAY! Oh, the awesomeness of Inigo is undiminished - actually it's amplified, because he could have let Eliot kill Rugen but he found the strength to do it himself.

And how brilliant to have the king intervene in the chapel! I did wonder how they were going to get Buttercup to safety otherwise...

You continue to rock :)
May. 6th, 2010 12:43 am (UTC)
The awesomeness of Inigo cannot be diminished! I fell a little bit in love with him all over again while doing this chapter. And I do believe this is the perfect time to remember to say how much I love your Inigo icon! It kind of captures the awesomeness perfectly. :)

Yeah, I always felt sorry for the king a bit; I always wanted to give him a bit of dignity back. I like to believe (as you can see) that if he could actually be made to notice what was going on, he'd actually do something about it. Probably not really true, but that's what the liberty of fanfic affords us....
( 4 speakses — have a speak )

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