The Elizabeth Bride
Part One
by Kitty


Katrielle sighed as she opened the door to her ever-messy room and put her books on her lower bunk. She'd had a long, tiring day at school, and wanted nothing more than to rest, go online, and ignore the rest of the world in general.

"Amber!" her mother called in her Georgian accent. "You have a letter!" And so she did. Kat walked into the kitchen, mumbled a request for dinner, and took the letter into her room. When she saw the Kansas return address, she smiled wide and eagerly tore the envelope.

She was glad to hear from Antigone--she'd been busy lately, what with midterms and such for her classes. The letter was full of updates, from the ever-boringness of History of Costume, to her hints that she wanted more TGE, to the possibility of her visiting Izzy in Wisconsin in December.

"Speaking of meeting in December," it said, "We need to think up a good way to get you to come with us. But, I'm not sure how we'll do it. But, we'll figure something out, hon. ..See you!!--Antigone"

Kat sighed as she thought of the WAASers meeting. Ah, well. It was nice that her friends, at least, would get together and see each other.

But, as she knew there wasn't much of a chance, and so she decided not to dwell and put the letter (And torn envelope) into her WAAS file, then turned Kip's monitor on. Out of habit, she kept Kip on during the day, just with the monitor off. She turned the brown MSN symbol Green, and "Katrielle is Online" appeared in the little white box at the bottom of her screen.

When it appeared that none of her contacts were online, she bit back a sigh, and went to her friends page. There, she found Izzy's latest post,telling about how she'd gotten sick. Katrielle shook her head.

She remembered Izzy had gotten sick waiting for the U2 concert, and she knew Izzy had loved every minute of it. Still, she wished that she felt better. Suddenly, the screen flashed once again at the bottom.

"Priscilla Precise is Online", it read, and Katrielle smiled and clicked on her name to open up a chat window.

Katrielle: Hey!

Elizabeth sniffled, then smiled a little as she saw the familiar purple text on her screen. She'd been at home all day, listening to U2, watching VH1, etc. Technically, it would have been a great day--except for the fact that she felt horribly.

Priscilla Precise: *sniffles* Hey, yourself.
Katrielle: Sick, sweetie?
Priscilla Precise: yes. very. meh.
Katrielle: *HUGS*
Priscilla Precise: Thanks. So, what's up?
Katrielle: Not much. You?
Priscilla Precise: just sick. that's all right now.
Katrielle: ahh. Anything I can do to make you feel better?

Elizabeth coughed, and shook her head. Damn cold. Or was it the flu? She wasn't exactly sure. Whatever it was, it wasn't fun. She paused for a moment over Katrielle's last message, and wondered what she could do with that offer...

Priscilla Precise: Write fic.
Katrielle: *What*?

Kat looked at the screen in disbelief. She hadn't had a decent chapter of, well, anything in months! And Izzy expected fic now, all of a sudden.

Elizabeth smiled as she typed.

Priscilla Precise: yes. Write me some fic. It doesn't even have to be *original*. It can even be a spoof.
Katrielle: But...but...you're the most exalted spoofer! I cannot *spoof*! The spoofing powers aren't with me!
Priscilla Precise: Dah. whatever. and it was just a suggestion, after all. sheesh.
Katrielle: Ok, ok. Give me something to spoof.
Priscilla Precise: I don't know. What do you know well enough to spoof?
Katrielle: Ooh!
Priscilla Precise: ooh?
Katrielle: Here. Let me type....

*********

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl whose name was Elizabeth. She lived on a small farm in the country of Florin. Her favorite things to do were to ride her horse, and order around the cute flyboy who worked there. The flyboy's name was Wedge. But she never called him that.

Katrielle: Isn't that a wonderful beginning?
Priscilla Precise: The Princess Bride? Are you *serious*?
Katrielle: Yeah. *g* It's a really good movie....

Nothing gave her more pleasure than ordering the flyboy around. "Flyboy," was all she ever called the aspiring pilot. "I want my saddle cleaned. I want to see my face shining in it by morning." She took a quiet joy in ordering him around, as she enjoyed the view of him in that bright orange outfit that he favored. And all he ever said to her was "As you wish", and did as she asked.

One day, she went up to him. "Flyboy," she said in a slightly haughty voice, "Go and fill this bucket with water for me...please?"

"As you wish," he responded, and Elizabeth had to hold back as gasp, as she realized when he said "As you wish", he was actually saying "I love you." She'd had only to look into those beautiful brown eyes to realize it.

Even more of a shock to her was the day she realized that she truly loved him back. "Flyboy," she asked again. She pointed to a pitcher above her head. "Fetch that pitcher for me?" she asked. He walked over, reached up with one hand, and pulled the pitcher down for her.

And at that moment, they realized their love for each other, and

Priscilla Precise: Kitty! No! You're *not* writing SweetSmut about Wedge and I. I don't care how good it is. Wait...*thinks* Is this a smutty fic?
Katrielle: Oh, come *on*. I know not to do so much as imply things. Bah.
Priscilla Precise: But I like it so far. flyboy. hee!

Wedge had no money for marriage, and as Elizabeth was a very liberal girl, she didn't really want to go and get married in any case. But, as she was born in the wrong time period, he had to go out and get money for them to at least scandalously live together. And so, Wedge packed his few belongings and prepared to leave the farm to seek his fortune across the sea. It was a very emotional time for Elizabeth.

Priscilla Precise: I'll bet.
Katrielle: Oh, hush, you. Let me continue on with it!
Priscilla Precise: ok, ok.
Katrielle: But, you liked the liberal thing, right?
Priscilla Precise: oh. yeah. *snerk*

Elizabeth had tears in her eyes before he left. "I'm afraid I'll never see you again," she told him tearfully.

But Wedge assured her otherwise. "Of course you will."

"But what if something happens to you?"

Wedge pulled her close, and spoke to her gently. "Here this now....I will always come for you."

Ever doubtful and pessimistic, Elizabeth shook her head. "But how can you be sure?"

He smiled lightly, and brushed her hair back from her face. "This is true love," he murmured. "You think this happens everyday?"

She shook her head quietly, and hugged him tightly. And then she watched him leave, deeply saddened.

Priscilla Precise: *sniffles* No! Wedge! Come back!
Katrielle: Izzy? Hon? *how* many times have you seen this movie? Katrielle: I think you know what might happen. ;-)
Priscilla Precise: Ok, ok. On with the story!

Weeks later, word came. His ship had never reached its destination--it had been attacked by the Dread Pirate Booster, who never left captives alive. When Elizabeth got word that Wedge had been murdered

Priscilla Precise: Murdered by pirates is *not* good!
Katrielle: I know, I know. But, hey! It gets better! You know that! *g* Once again, *How* many times have you seen this movie?
Priscilla Precise: Hmph. Well, you know how film and fic versions can vary...

When Elizabeth got word that Wedge had been murdered, she went into her room and shut the door, and for days she neither slept nor ate.

"I shall never love again," she vowed quietly, her heart broken.

Priscilla Precise: Kitty, you're breaking my heart here. Literally, in the fic. ow.
Katrielle: Ha-ha. Yeah. Ok. Continuing on...Heh. Just wait 'til you see who the Prince is....
Priscilla Precise: *covers eyes* The mind boggles.

***********

Five years later, the main square of Florin City was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the Great Prince Corran's bride to be.

Priscilla Precise: *Corran*?
Katrielle: Yes.
Priscilla Precise: *shakes head* *Corran?!*

Trumpets blared and the people glanced up at the balcony that the Prince stood on, along with his older father and mother, and the Duke Tarkin. "My people!" He greeted them. "A month from now, our country will have its annual Life Day Celebration. On that sundown I shall marry a lady who was once a commoner like yourselves. But perhaps you will find her common no longer Would you like to meet her?!"

The crowd cheered, and the snobby prince nodded. "Very well then," he said. "I present to you...The Princess...Elizabeth!"

She stepped out onto the carpet, and watched solemnly as her future subjects began to all bow down to her. She glanced up at the prince, and at his smile, felt her heart sink lower. Elizabeth's emptiness consumed her. Although the law of the land gave Corran the right to choose his bride, she did not love him.

Priscilla Precise: Of course not.
Katrielle: Indeed. Which is why he's perfect for this part
Katrielle: heh. be happy I didn't pick Fey'lya...
Priscilla Precise: *covers ears* *No*....

Despite his reassurances that she would grow to love him in time, the only joy Elizabeth found was in her daily ride, where it seemed all her current despairs disappeared as she galloped on her horse. The next morning, she was out for her ride, when she ran into three men, an Alderaanian, a Tanaabian, and a Bothan.

Fey'lya halted Elizabeth. "Greetings. A word, my lady? We are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm sorry, but there is nothing nearby. Not for miles."

The Bothan's lips curved up over his ugly teeth. "Then there shall be no one to hear you scream...."

The Tanaabian quickly put the sleeper on her,and carried her off her horse. He, with the help of the Alderaanian, brought her back to the ship. They returned to see Fey'lya tearing fabric and placing it on the horse's saddle.

"What's that you're ripping?" Tycho the Alderaanian asked. Fey'lya smiled cruelly.

"It's fabric from the uniform of an army officer of Guilder!!" He exclaimed happily. "Oh, but I love making wars happen..."

"Who is Guilder?" Wes, the Tanaabian, asked.

"The country across the sea," Fey'lya replied. "The sworn enemy of Florin!"

He then finished attaching the fabric, and sends the horse off. "Go!" he shouts after it. Turning to Wes and Tycho, he explained his evil plan.

"Once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Prince suspect the Guilderians of abducting his love. Then, when he finds her body dead on the Guilder frontier, his suspicions will have been totally confirmed!"

Wes looked concerned. "You never said anything about killing anyone..." he started to protest.

Fey'lya sulked angrily. "I hired you to start a war! It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition!"

But Wes still looked doubtful. "But I don't think it's right," he said. "Killing an innocent girl."

They step onto the ship, and Fey'lya continued to fuss at him. "Am I going mad, or did the word 'think' just escape your lips? You were hired because you were the only character I could find that I could stand with a moderately large build, you pilot with the broad shoulders!"

Tycho chose this time to interrupt. "I agree with Wes," he said.

With that comment, Fey'lya turned his berating to him. "Oh, the Alderaanian has spoken. Whatever happens to her is not truly your concern."

His voice then rose to a yell as he turned to Wes again. "And remember this, never forget this!! When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't pick up a Bothan! And you!" He screamed, turning to Tycho. "Friendless, helpless, hopeless, homeless. Do you want me to send you back where you were? In Alderaan? Well, that doesn't even exist anymore!"

Finally, Fey'lya walked away, still fuming, and set the ship free. Tycho walked over to Wes.

"You know, that Fey'lya really can...fuss."

Wes smiled slowly. "Fuss..fuss...You know, I think he likes to scream at us."

"Probably he means no...harm."

Wes smirked and added, "He's very very short on charm."

Tycho grinned at the game they often played to keep themselves sane around Fey'lya. "You have a great gift for rhyme."

"Yes, yes, some of the time." But then Fey'lya heard their rhyming.

"Enough of that!" he yelled back at them.

Tycho asked, "Wes, are there rocks ahead?"

Wes shrugged. "If there are, we'll soon be dead."

Exasperated, Fey'lya shouted, "No more rhymes now! I mean it!"

Wes grinned roguishly. "Anybody want a peanut?"

Priscilla Precise: *laughs* I love that line!
Katrielle: *g* I know. :-D

Fey'lya could be heard responding with a painful groan, then going back to steering the ship.

*********

Nighttime quickly arose as the Princess and her captors sailed over the seas to their destination. The Moon was full, and Elizabeth stared at the side of the ship, determined.

Fey'lya smiled happily. "We'll reach the cliffs by dawn!" he proclaimed. He then cast a worried look back at Tycho, who kept looking over his shoulder, behind the ship.

"Why do you keep doing that?" He asked impatiently.

Tycho shrugged philosophically. "Making sure that nobody is following us," he replied.

Fey'lya shook his head. "That would be inconceivable." he stated.

At that moment, Elizabeth jumped into the conversation. "Despite what you think," she started, "you will be caught. And when you are, Prince Corran will see you all hanged."

But instead of being threatened in any way, Fey'lya smiled cruelly at her. "Of all the necks on this boat, the one you should most be worried about, your Highness, is your own."

Tycho looked back once more, further irritating Borsk. "Stop doing that!" he yelled. "We can all relax! It's almost over."

The Princess nearly made a comment on how he should take his own advice on relaxing, but then a plan started to formulate in her mind....

Tycho looked thoughtful. "Are you sure nobody is following us?" he asked once again.

Borsk sighed huffily. "As I told you before, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable! No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast." But, the Bothan began to look somewhat nervous.

"Out of curiosity," he said, "Why do you ask?"

Tycho shrugged. "Suddenly I happened to look behind us and something is there."

Borsk ran to the back of the vessel and looked out at the water. "What?!" he screeched, then glanced the ship behind them. "Oh, probably some local fisherman out on a pleasure cruise at night... through eel infested waters," he said, not believing his own words.

Just then, Elizabeth jumped over the ship, into those eel-infested waters.

Priscilla Precise: yeah. right. Like I'd jump like that.
Katrielle: *shrugs* I don't know. I say, you never know until you're in a particular situation.
Priscilla Precise: I'd like to think I wouldn't be that stupid. I mean, *eel* *infested* waters.
Katrielle: *shakes head* Not stupid. Just...ignorant of that fact?

MO< Fey'lya panicked. "What?!" he screeched. "Go in!! Go after her!!!" he shouts at Tycho and Wes.

Tycho replied, "I don't swim," in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

Borsk then looked to Wes, who shrugged. "I only doggie-paddle," he informed him.

"Aarargh!" Borsk screamed. "Veer left! No, your other left! Left!"

Suddenly, a horrible screeching filled the air. Borsk leaned over the rail, glaring at Elizabeth in the water. "Do you know what that sound is, Highness?" he asked. "Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait. They always get louder just before feeding on human flesh."

At Elizabeth's panicked look, he smiled slightly. "If you turn back now," he bargained, "I promise no harm will come to you." But then he smirked. "I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels."

Katrielle: You don't get eaten by the eels at this time.
Priscilla Precise: What?! *knows this part well*
Katrielle: The eel doesn't get you. I'm explaining to you because you seemed nervous over the possibility of yourself being eaten by eels.
Priscilla Precise: I wasn't nervous. Maybe a little *concerned* over the thought of myself being eaten by eels...but that's not the same thin
. Katrielle:...Because we can stop now if you want.
Priscilla Precise: No! I mean, no, you can read, er, write a little bit further...if you want.
Katrielle: Alrighty.

"Do you know what that sound is, Highness?" Borsk asked.

Priscilla Precise: Pass that, Kitty. You read/wrote that already.
Katrielle: *puts on confused look* Oh, oh, my goodness. I did, didn't I? Now, where were we. Hrm. You were just about to be eaten by eels, and got the offer from Borsk...
Priscilla Precise: Which I would not take in y right mind.
Katrielle: Correct. But this is fic. And a spoof. So, you don't exactly have much control over your actions.
Priscilla Precise: Please be nice?
Katrielle: *HUGS* Of course. *vbeg* When have I ever been not-nice in fic?
Priscilla Precise: A certain...no, wait. *Several* certain Epic chapters come to mind.
Katrielle. Eeeh. You're right there. Continuing on....

Just then, Elizabeth gasped as the eel began to charge her, and then she saw a hand smack the eel, then felt herself being gently out of the water and back onto the ship.

"Put her down!" Borsk shouted. "Just put her down!"

Tycho shook his head. "Does he not know how to talk in an inside voice?" he asked Wes.

Wes smirked. "If he did, we would all rejoice."

Borsk shook his head angrily. "What did I tell you two about that?" he asked.

Tycho looked back at the approaching vessel. "I think he's getting closer." he said.

Fey'lya shrugged. "He's no concern of ours! Sail on!" As Tycho and Wes prepared to do just that, Borsk glanced over at the cold, wet, and shivering girl.

"I suppose you think you're brave," he stated with a sneer.

"Only compared to some," she replied, her chin still held regally high.

*********

Just as dawn broke, they had nearly reached their destination.

"He is right on top of us," Tycho commented. "I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using?"

Borsk shook his head. "Whoever he is, he's too late! See!" He looked up crazily at the approaching cliffs. "Look! The Cliffs of Insanity!! Hurry up!! Move...the thing...and that other thing! Move it!"

He climbed out, followed by Elizabeth, Tycho, and Wes. "We're safe!" he proclaimed. "Only Wes is strong enough to go up our way. He'll have to sail around for hours until he finds a harbor!"

Wes, with all three holding on tightly to him, slowly began to climb the rope. Tycho looked down in amazement. "Look!" he said. "He's climbing the rope...and gaining on us."

At this, Fey'lya screeched, "Faster!"

But Wes shook his head tiredly. "I thought I was going faster."

However, Borsk continued to complain. "You were supposed to be this infamous, broad-shouldered pilot! The only one--besides that wimp Kell--of the pilots who sounded strong enough for the part. I had to use you! And yet he gains!"

Wes shrugged--or, as much as he was able to, climbing the rope. "I'm carrying three people," he said. "He's only got himself."

Fey'lya still looked frustrated. "I do not accept excuses!" he shouted. "I'll just simply have to go with Kell."

"Oh, don't say that, Borsk." Wes said, somewhat sadly. "Please? You know how I don't like Kell..."

"Yeah, yeah." Borsk muttered. "Family history and all. But did I make it clear that your job is at stake?"

Finally, Wes reached the top of the cliffs. The others climbed off of him, and he was thankful for the end of his climb.

Borsk quickly scrambled over to the rope and cut it. All three of them looked over the edge to see if he was still there.

Priscilla Precise: I'll bet he is.
Katrielle: I'll bet you're right.

"He's got very good arms," Wes commented.

"He didn't fall!" Borsk screamed. "Inconceivable!"

Tycho shook his head. "You keep on using that word," he noted. "I do not think it means what you think it means." He then looked back down at the man in black. "My TAWG," he murmured. "He's climbing.quot;

"Well," Fey'lya started. "He's obviously seen us with the Princess and must therefore die. You," he said with a meaningful look at Wes.

"Carry her." he ordered. Borsk then glanced back at Tycho.

"We'll head straight for the Guilder frontier," he informed Tycho. "Catch up when he's dead. If he falls--fine. If not--the sword."

Tycho nearly surpressed a smile at the thought of a swordfight. "I'm going to do him left-handed."

Priscilla Precise: He *is*?
Katrielle: *pretends to look shocked* Wow.
Priscilla Precise: I've been around Claire too long.
Katrielle: Yes. But, hey, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Heh. I guess I'll have to deem you...the Heiress to the Dodgy Queen's Throne. Making you Dodgy Princess Izzybeth.
Priscilla Precise: *covers eyes* Oy....

Borsk sighed impatiently. "You know what a hurry we're in!"

The Alderaanian shrugged. "Well, it is the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right, it will be over too quickly."

Priscilla Precise: Oh, *really*?
Katrielle: Gah. That's bad...when I wrote that, I had that thought, too...
Priscilla Precise: *snerks* Dodgy Duchess Katrielle. *vbeg*
Katrielle: *bows* At your service, your Highness.

"Oh, fine," Borsk said. "Have it your way." He hurried off to Elizabeth's side.

Priscilla Precise: Ewww.
Katrielle. *pets* Just think...the man in black...Wedge...:-D
Priscilla Precise: *blush* Ok, ok. So... I'll put up with it. For now.
Katrielle: Good. I think you'll find it worth your while, hon.

Wes crossed over to Tycho. "You be careful," he said. "People in masks cannot be trusted."

Tycho nodded, while Borsk screeched. "I'm waiting!"

Wes sighed and went with them, as they hurried off to the Guilder frontier.


Continued in Part Two