Eric and His Great Pumpkin One-shot Contest
Title: Twoo Wuv: A Bloody Fairytale
Your Pen name: pixiegiggles with some citrusy goodness squeezed in by nycsnowbird
Characters: Sookie, Eric, Claudine, Bill, Godric
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or stories from TB, SVM, or The Princess Bride.
This story is based on the beloved movie The Princess Bride, and therefore borrows HEAVILY. I do not own any of it -- I'm just having fun playing with all the crazy possibilities ;p
Bon Temps, October 31, 1996
"Fine, you win," Sookie murmured resignedly to her doting babysitter.
Their Halloween tradition was fairly set. This one started the very first Halloween that they spent together, when Sookie was only 8. After insisting on watching a horror movie in the spirit of the holiday, Claudine cuddled in bed with her godchild and read her a fairytale bedtime story. Over the years, Claudine had insisted that this was strictly a necessary nightmare prevention measure, but Sookie had the sneaking suspicion that her babysitter actually enjoyed story time more than the requisite dose of gory horror. After all, Sookie was 16 years old now; she wasn't really scared of the dark anymore. As much as was loathe to admit it, she didn't really want to break their tradition either.
Claudine, her curvaceous body poured into her usual body hugging Tinkerbell costume, plopped down on the bed with Sookie and emptied the bag of assorted Lindt truffles around them.
Sookie adjusted the silver tiara in her hair and rested her head on Claudine's shoulder.
"What's this one about?" she asked with feigned resignation, wondering just how her requisite costume, a glittering princess ensemble, would fit in with this year's story.
Claudine wrapped her arm around the teenager, placing the book on her lap. "'Twoo Wuv' is about the most beautiful woman in the world, the hero who loves her, and the evil prince who wants to marry her for his own purposes."
Sookie grimaced. "Ugh. Is this one of your steamy romance novels?"
"Well, it is the most beautiful, swoonalicious love story," Claudine offered. "It's got everything. Fighting, torture, revenge, Vampires, Maenads, chases, escapes, true love, miracles..."
"Okay, fine," Sookie grumbled, snuggling deeper under the blanket.
"Twoo Wuv, A Bloody Fairytale, by A.H. Balls," Claudine began, "Chapter One."
**ooO][Ooo**
Kookie was raised on a small farm in the countryside of Florin, where, even as a young girl, she ranked as one of the most beautiful of the land. Her beauty only increased with each passing year until she was unsurpassed in loveliness in all the neighboring kingdoms as well. Her hair, the color of summer wheat, cascaded in loose waves down her back, her sapphire blue eyes sparkled in the sun, and her deep golden spray tan was usually well-applied, even though –
**ooO][Ooo**
"Eww!" Sookie squealed in horror, "Fake tan?! That's so tacky!"
Claudine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, we all don't have the luxury of lying in the sun half our—not to mention the health risks, dear one." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and turned towards Sookie. "Shall I continue?"
"Sorry," Sookie whispered contritely.
"Alright, where was I? Even though it was sometimes clear she skimped and went for store brands instead of designer."
Claudine continued, despite the disgusted groan coming from the petite blond beside her.
"But there was something very special about Kookie. You see, she had the uncommon talent of telepath–"
"C'mon, Claudine!" Sookie snorted, "If you wanted to make me feel better about my disability–"
Claudine gazed down at Sookie with narrowed eyes. "Seriously, do you want me to read this, or not?"
"Okay, okay. Sorry! Geesh." Sookie muttered,.
"Alright. Let's see..."
**ooO][Ooo**
Her favorite pastimes were riding her horse and tormenting the farm boy who worked there. His name was Eric, but she never called him that. Nothing gave Kookie as much pleasure as ordering Eric around.
It's amazing, how brief moments are that change our life forever. Some are products of split-second decisions to which we barely pay any mind, while others fall beyond our realm of knowledge, so we don't even realize when our life is about to take a sharp turn.
Such was the moment when Count Balls laid his eyes on the unparalleled beauty of Kookie.
Tales of her beauty had been recounted as second to those of her mysterious talent for reaching into human minds. With the Prince's recent announcement of his quest to find a suitable wife, many volunteered suggestions. Krazy Kooky, as the locals called her, was the first promising candidate. Her telepathic talent alone would make her a prized asset, and if her beauty was as breathtaking as was rumored ... well, she would indeed be a worthy find.
Prince Schmooperdinck was highly doubtful that this country girl could be as beautiful and as useful an asset as the Count had assured him of. This is how he found himself sitting atop his white steed, next to the Count, when she rode into view below them. Count Balls was sorely tempted to pick his Prince's jaw off the ground. Schmooperdinck pulled himself together after a long moment.
"She will be MAHN," he vowed, "I must court her now."
Pushing back his shoulders and straightening his back with unnatural stiffness, he maneuvered his steed down the hill.
"Good evening," he greeted Kookie with his usual pomp, alighting to the ground. He raised her hand to his lips, fixing her with his best you-will-be-mahn stare.
Unaccustomed to such attentions, she blushed and cast her eyes down. He helped her dismount placing his hand under her chin, he raised her head smiling sweetly. As soon as her eyes took him in—the mesmerizing faint glow of his pale skin, the deeper-than-black darkness of his eyes, she knew exactly what he was—vampire.
"I can't hear you," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
"Goood eeee-ve-nninngg" he repeated, enunciating carefully.
"No, no ... I can hear you speak, but ..." She moved in closer, peering into his eyes—absolutely nothing!
"Oh!" she gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her hands.
"You're different," he said, his eyes glamorously intent on boring holes into hers. "What are you?"
Kookie pondered how best to proceed. She could try to cover her tracks but this was the Prince, and even if he hadn't heard the rumors about Krazy Kookie, she wasn't the best liar. She took a deep breath.
"I am telepathic," she admitted. "I can hear people's thoughts."
"Even mine?" The question came rushing at her, without even a pause.
It caught her off-guard. "No. It's the oddest thing—I can't hear you. At all."
The Prince touched his lips to her hand once again, hiding his excited smile with a kiss. This was turning out more perfectly than he could have ever imagined. That she was beautiful beyond compare went without saying. But even more auspicious was her unique talent. Not only would she be able to read his enemies' minds, she would also never be able to tell what was going on in his.
Ruling the world was not as easy as it looked. She would be a very helpful asset, indeed.
He wound his arm through hers, leading her along the path as he whispered softly. "You have a gift."
She snorted. "Gift. Right. More like a disability."
He turned to her, taking both her hands. "You would make a perfect princess. May I call on you?"
"Oh, sure," Kookie blurted out, color flooding her cheeks.
Could he really accept her for what she was and not think she was crazy? She was failing to realize that he wanted her for her talent, not despite it.
The silence was so blissful. There was only one other person who had put her at such ease with such silence, and he was nothing but a poor farm boy.
"May I seal our courtship with a kiss?" the Prince requested most politely, jolting Kookie out of her reverie. She agreed, squeezing his hand.
Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure ... this was not one of them. It wasn't bad—it had its moments, actually. But it just wasn't magical.
The Prince cupped Kookie's face and raised it to his cool lips—
**ooO][Ooo**
Claudine paused at the alarming gagging sounds coming from Sookie.
"What now?" she asked, pursing her lips.
"Ick! I thought you said this wasn't one of your trashy novels," Sookie balked. "Can you just skip the smooching parts?"
"As you wish," Claudine agreed with a wink.
**ooO][Ooo**
That evening, something unusual happened. She was ordering the Farm Boy around as usual, but something between them was very different.
"Farm Boy, fetch me that pitcher," she commanded, even though it was hanging right above her head, easily within reach.
"As you wish," he whispered softly as he walked towards her, gazing into her eyes.
That's when she realized that all this time, when he was saying "As you wish," what he really meant was "I love you."
He stood so close she could feel his warm breath tickling her hair as he extended his arm above her to grab for the pitcher. His eyes stayed locked with hers as he brought it down and handed it to her.
As soon as their hands touched—
**ooO][Ooo**
Claudine paused, picking up another chocolate, and flipped to the next page, trying to find the right spot. "Um, let's see..."
"What? What?!" Sookie asked, sitting up.
"Oh, it's just smooching again...you don't want to hear that."
Sookie leaned back. "Well, I guess I don't mind so much."
"Oh, okay," Claudine chuckled knowingly.
**ooO][Ooo**
As soon as their hands touched, she could no longer resist her newfound desires. She reached one hand to stroke his cheek, another clutched his shoulder as she raised up on her tiptoes, tugging his shoulder down until their lips met.
Like I said before, since the invention of the kiss there have been five great kisses. Well, this one left them all in the dust. She saw stars. The moon. The sun. And every other shining celestial body.
That night the Farm Boy haunted her dreams. Try as she might, she could do nothing but restlessly toss and turn all night, pining for her true love.
Her night was filled with the rich ecstasies denied them both for so long. In her dreams she'd asked Eric into her home on the pretext of lighting her hearth. Her hearth indeed. And where, suddenly, were her clothes? He winked at her with a grin as he shrugged out of his simple shirt, standing before her expectantly. Dream Kookie's eyes focused on the sculpted muscles of his expansive chest, his golden hair thick and arrowed down his stomach. His pants bulged with his desire. Never had she realized his size. He stood 6'4" tall and was simply, heartstoppingly massive. His feet were large, his hands were large. Her eyes descended; he was large and very, very hard. She held out her arms jolting with barely contained lust for him and he walked into her hot embrace—slowly, heatedly, folding her small body into his. His hands stroked her hair, her shoulders, stroking lengthwise down her back, grasping her waist and pulling her tightly against him.
Her entire body shook from the force of her desire. She was submerged in the scent of him. He was all masculine: musk and woods, sunlight and earth. Her nerves thrummed in anticipation. His kiss was a convulsive lunge of lust arcing electrically between them. She burned against his roaming hands that were hungry and unrelenting. He crushed her against him, whispering over and over, "I love you, I love you."
The dreams replayed all night, torturing and pleasuring her until she awoke with a start to an empty bed.
That is, until a knock on the door startled her out of her exhausted misery.
"Whoever is that?" she asked.
"Eric," a familiar warm voice answered.
She jumped off the bed and bolted towards the door, yanking it open and looked up, up, up into the blue eyes of her dreams.
"I've come to say goodbye."
She felt her smile fade.
"Goodbye?" she asked, her mind racing for an explanation. "Is this because of my new suitor?"
"Yes—I'm going to seek my fortune."
"Oh!" Kookie rasped, pain clutching her throat. "Your fortune AND an eventual rich wife?"
Eric's mouth gaped, then closed. He sighed deeply. He gazed down at Kookie, anger flashing briefly in his eyes suddenly replaced by amusement.
"Don't you feel what's been going on between us?"
"Do you love me, Eric? Is that it?" Kookie asked, ladling her voice with equal amounts sarcasm and derision, hoping to disguise her hope.
He couldn't believe it. "Do I love you? My God, woman, how could you not know? I have stayed these long years in a hovel just to be close to you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by it. I have not known a moment in years when the sweet smell of you did not send my heart careening into my ribcage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids. You're part of my every waking moment. You're my heartbeat that sustains me. Do I need to go on?"
"Never stop."
"There has not been—"
"If you're teasing me, Eric, I'm just going to kill you."
"How can you even dream I tease?"
"Well, you haven't once said you loved me."
"That's what you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I LOVE YOU. Shall I Spell it out?
I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I."
"You are teasing me now, aren't you?"
"A little, maybe. I've been saying it so long to you, but you just wouldn't listen. Every time you
said, 'Farm Boy do this,' you thought I was answering 'As you wish.' But that's only because
you weren't listening. 'I love you' was what it really was, but you never heard."
"I hear now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only you, Eric. Until I die."
He nodded and turned to go. "I'll send for you soon."
She grabbed his arm. "Would my Eric ever lie?"
He turned towards her. "I'm late. I must go; I hate to, but I must. The ship sails soon."
"I understand," she assured him with all the courage she could muster.
He reached his hand up to caress her cheek, and once again Kookie struggled for breath.
"Goodbye," he whispered.
She wrapped her tiny hand around his, as they fell into each other's arms.
"Goodbye," he whispered again, his lips nuzzling her hair, and turned to leave.
But she held onto his hand. He looked back at her, and the words escaped her lips before she could stop them, "Without one kiss?"
And this kiss put the one in Kookie's dreams to shame. Her heart hammered. Her knees buckled. Sparks flew. This was magic.
As he pulled away, he breathed against her lips, "This is only the beginning."
But Eric never reached his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate De Castro, who never left captives alive. When Kookie got the news that her love was murdered, she went into her room and shut the door. For days she neither slept nor ate. When she finally did emerge, she was a shadow of her former self.
"I will never love again," she vowed.
Five years later, the great town square of Florin city was filled as never before, to hear the announcement of the great Prince Schmooperdinck's bride-to-be.
"My people," the Prince's voice boomed high above the crowd from the safety of his balcony. "One month from now our country celebrates its 500th anniversary. To celebrate, I shall, on that sundown, take for my wife the Princess Kookie of Hammersmith."
In the square, the massive gates opened to reveal Kookie to her new subjects, and the crowd gasped in awe at the beauty standing before them.
Kookie's emptiness consumed her. Although she had agreed to marry Schmooperdinck, she did not love him. He had assured her that this was a convenient arrangement on both sides, and that just having her by his side would be enough for him, and, if she should one day grow to love him, well, that would just be the icing on the cake.
Despite his reassurances, she felt more hollow inside with every passing hour. The only joy she found was in her daily ride.
If you don't expect too much from life, you won't be disappointed.
Really, you are a greedy girl, she continued chiding herself. After all, you are just a poor country girl and now you are marrying your Prince Charming. Who could ever wish for more? Why, it was the stuff of fairytales!
She reined her horse into a sudden stop when she found herself in front of the most beautiful child-man she had ever seen.
"A word, my lady," he requested most sweetly.
"Speak," the Princess answered, remaining astride her horse.
"I am but a poor circus performer," he explained. "It is dark, and I fear I am lost. I was told there was a village nearby that might enjoy my skills."
"You were misinformed," Kookie replied. "There is no one, not for many miles."
"Then there will be no one to hear you scream."
He reached her with beyond-human speed, before another breath escaped her open lips.
The moon shone brightly in the black starless sky as the boat carrying Godric and the abducted princess sped through the murky waters towards the Cliffs of Despair.
But not so far away, the Man in Black approached. Dressed all in black, from his boots to his mask, he was darker than the night, except for his long golden hair, tied back into an intricate pattern of braids.
After scaling the cliffs and securing the Princess with rope, gag and blindfold to a nearby tree, Godric sat to watch the Man in Black scale the steep and craggy rocks, his tawny muscles, barely contained in a tight, black tank-top, strained and bulged. This man was impressive, possibly the most impressive in strength, skill and courage that he had ever come across.
But his swordsmanship was even more impressive. It was cunning, quick, brave and beautiful, but he was still no match for Godric.
"You are a beautiful fighter," Godric said, as their swards clashed."I admit it, you are better than I am."
"Then why are you smiling?"
"Because I know something you don't know," Godric replied, barely holding off his opponent's advances.
"And what is that?" asked the Man in Black.
"I am undead," Godric answered. "Therefore, you can not kill me."
Godric ducked the next blow and then renewed his assault double-fold, pushing the Man in Black towards the very edge of the cliffs. Godric had him cornered, and with one swift motion, knocked the sword out of his opponent's hand. He then positioned his sword against the Man in Black's neck, forcing him down against the wall that outlined the edge of the cliff.
"You are amazing." the Man in Black breathed, his voice strained with awe.
"I ought to be," Godric replied, "After 2000 years."
"Oh, but there is something I ought to tell you," said the Man in Black, teetering dangerously over the crumbling wall.
"Yes?"
"I knew you were a vampire, from the moment I saw your pale face peering over the cliff," he replied, as he deftly pulled out a silver chain and lassoed it around Godric's wrists in one fluid motion.
The last thing that Godric saw was the butt of his own sword moving towards his face.
The Man in Black untied Princess Kookie's blindfold and sliced her bonds away with his sword.
Princess Kookie flinched at the sight and feel of the sharp blade so close to her skin, looking up, up, up to the Man in Black. Up past his flat abdominals and well-defined chest, which she could see even through his black tank top; up past his broad shoulders and hard, unshaven jaw, up past the most beautiful, chiseled lips, up into the ice blue eyes peering at her through his black mask.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am no one to be trifled with," replied the man in black in a rough, deep voice, grabbing her hands and pulling her up to him. He leaned in, whispering, his lips almost touching hers, "That is all you ever need to know."
He gripped Kookie's hand firmly and pulled her along. After running for hours, when he sensed the panting Princess was reaching her limit, he stopped, releasing her hand and pushing her roughly onto a nearby rock.
"Catch your breath," he sneered at her.
"If you'll release me," the Princess pleaded, her blue eyes growing rounder and wider, "Whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it, I promise you."
He leaned against a boulder across from her, laughing cruelly. "And what is that worth?" he taunted, rising to his full impressive height, one hand resting on his hip, the other on his sword. "The promise of a woman? You're very amusing, Highness."
"I was giving you a chance," she said. "It does not matter where you take me. There is no greater hunter than Prince Schmooperdinck. He can hunt a Maenad in the dense woods, he can track a Were from 10 yards ... he will find you."
"You think your dearest love will save you?" he mocked.
"I never said he was my dearest love," she protested. "And yes, he will save me. That I know!"
"You admit to me you do not love your fiancé?" he asked her, curiosity drawing him towards her.
"He knows I do not love him," she answered solemnly.
"You are incapable of love, is what you mean?" the Man in Black jeered.
This angered the Princess greatly. "I have loved more deeply than a killer such as yourself could ever dream!" her voice choked with raw emotion.
She flinched at his raised hand which had stopped just inches from her face. "That was a warning, Highness. Where I come from there are penalties when a woman lies."
He grabbed her hand and began to run again.
"Rest, Highness," he said as he shoved her onto another rock.
"I know who you are," said the Princess, "Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate De Castro, admit it. "
"With pride," said the Man in Black, bowing ceremoniously. "What can I do for you? "
"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces," she said coolly.
"Tsk, tsk. That's hardly complementary Highness." He shook his head with condemning amusement on his face. "Why so blood-thirsty?"
"You killed my love."
"It's possible. I kill a lot of people," he offered, settling himself against another nearby boulder. "Who was this love of yours? Another prince like this one?"
"No, he was a Farm Boy. Poor. Poor and perfect," Kookie replied, gazing off in the distance as if lost in a dream. "With eyes like the sea after a storm." She shook off the memory and turned the full force of her anger against the pirate. "On the high seas your ship attacked his, and the Dread Pirate never takes prisoners."
"I can't afford to make exceptions," he acknowledged, crossing his arms behind his head, a cruel smirk curling his lips. "I mean, once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft—people begin to disobey you and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time."
"You mock my pain," the Princess wailed, her words trembling with tears.
"Life is pain, Highness," he sneered. "Anyone who tells you differently is selling something."
He thought a moment. "I remember this Farm Boy of yours, I think," He rose approaching her. "This would be, what? Five years ago? Does it bother you to hear?"
"Nothing you could say would upset me," she answered heavily, the wind whipping her golden hair around her.
"He died well, that should please you," he remarked as he paced past her, crossing his arms. "No bribe attempts, or blubbering ... simply said, 'Please, please, I need to live.' 'Twas the 'please' that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important—' 'true love,' he replied."
Their eyes locked for a silent moment, hers filled with sorrow, his with accusation.
"And then he spoke of a girl of unsurpassing beauty and fealty," He continued cruelly. "I can only assume he meant you. You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are."
"And what am I?" She rose with her indignation.
"Fealty, he talked of, madam—your enduring and unwavering fealty," "he sneered. "Now tell me, truly. When you found out he was gone, did you get engaged to your Prince that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"
"You mocked me once, never do it again!" the Princess seethed, her anger and hurt bubbling over. "I died that day!"
The sound of a horse's whinny snapped Princess Kookie out of her tirade. They both looked up and saw the Prince's rescue party appear over the ridge.
"You can die too, for all I care," she snapped as she shoved him down the hill.
"AS. YOU. WISH!" the Man in Black screamed as he tumbled down. Down, down, down.
"Oh! My sweet Eric! What have I done?" the Princess cried as she threw herself down the hill after him.
And down they both went, rolling, and grunting and rolling some more until they landed at the bottom, melting into each other's eyes. He rolled towards her, pulling her into his arms, his eyes darkening with intense emotion and desire. It had been so long. Anticipation coiled in her body painfully till she could barely breathe.
His fingers tightened in her hair. "All these years, I have thought of nothing but this."
"My Eric," she whispered, reaching her hand up to caress his cheek. "You're alive."
He closed his hand over hers. "I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"
His mask had come off during the tumble down the ravine, and wisps of his long hair, loosened from the braids that had contained it, fell to frame his perfect features. Like spun gold, Kookie thought, as she found herself drowning in those blue eyes that had haunted her dreams.
"Well ... you were dead," she answered.
"Death cannot stop true love," he vowed softly, bring her hand to his lips. "All it can do is delay it for a while."
"I will never doubt again," she promised.
"There will never be a need," he assured her.
He lowered his head as he lightly licked her lips, his tongue a tease of fire. Her fingers dug into his waist.
"I love you," he whispered, his breath searing against her ears. He took her face in his hands. He was kissing her now, softly, firmly, his mouth parting hers, his tongue a caress. She moaned, a strangled scream. His kiss turned at once hot and pounding, sucking her with his tongue, swallowing her with his teeth and mouth. He was taking no prisoners.
"Oh God, Eric! I love you!" she gasped.
His fingers cupped the roundness of her breast through her dress, his thumb dragging across her nipple. Distantly she heard herself groan, feeling her body yield against his heat. His kiss traveled down her throat to her neck laying a path of hot fire in its wake.
She arched into him, her body sparking with exhilaration, at once pulsing and throbbing. She was want. Her hands slid down to cup his ass as he pressed her tighter against his groin. She could feel the thick outline of his manhood pressing rock hard against her.
It was overwhelming her sensibilities. This was reckless. At any moment they could be discovered. By now the Prince's hunting party was sure to be navigating around the cliffs to reach the flat land below where they saw her disappear. She pushed him away, his face clouded with confusion.
"We can't. We have to get going!"
He shook his head dreamily, then suddenly raised up and looked around furtively.
"You're right. This can't happen now. We have a whole lifetime together. Let's get out of here."
"Eric and Kookie raced along the ravine floor, holding hands tightly. The sound of horses' whinnies froze them in their tracks.
"Ha!" Eric pointed, "Your pig fiancé is too late! A few more steps and we'll be safe in the fire swamp."
"We'll never survive," Kookie whined and pouted, in that adorable manner that she had about her.
"Nonsense," Eric assured her as they quickened their pace. "You're only saying that because no one ever has."
Kookie froze with fear just before the entrance to the swamp.
Eric wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and leaned into her ear. "Trust me," he whispered, ever so softly. His closeness sent shooting sparks across her entire body. She looked up into his eyes and tightened her own grip on her Eric, the only lifeline she would ever need.
Countless hours later, hand in hand, they finally stumbled out of the fire swamp. The moon was just starting its arc against the starless, ebony sky, illuminating the outline of the rugged land before them, and the dark water beyond it. In the distance, the white sail of a lone ship punctuated the darkness.
"We made it," she whispered in awe, looking up at her Farm Boy with relief and gratitude.
He turned to her, sharing her happiness and captivated by the moon's silvery cast highlighting her upturned face and hair. But just as he was about to grasp her hand and race the impossibly long distance to his ship, the thundering sound of hooves hurtling towards them filled their ears.
"I guess we could not avoid the Rodents of Unusual Size, after all," Eric muttered as he looked upon the face of his immortal enemy, Prince Schmooperdink.
The Prince drew to an abrupt halt before them, his skin so white against the darkness that it almost glowed in its pallor. His hunting group drew up behind him, as he launched into his righteous savior routine.
"Surrender," the Prince sang out, his voice booming with melodrama, as he stretched out his arm in front of him, making an emphatic sweep with his hand.
"You mean you wish to surrender to me?" Eric asked, a lopsided smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Very well, I accept."
"I credit you with bravery," the Prince replied, "but there is no need to make a fool of yourself."
"What is so foolish about winning?" Eric inquired. "It's my opinion that in order to capture us, you will have to come into the Fire Swamp. We have spent many hours here now; we know it well. I doubt that you or your men will be any too anxious to follow us in here. And as soon as the sun rises we will slip away."
"I doubt that somehow," said the Prince, and he gestured to the sea behind him, now swarming with the ships of his Armada, giving chase to the great ship Revenge, which was retreating, for lack of any other plausible alternative. "Surrender," the Prince proclaimed victoriously, unable to disguise the smug satisfaction in his voice and face.
"That will not happen," Eric declared, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"SURRENDER! SHE IS MAHN!" the Prince hollered, frustration blanching his already deathly-pale skin.
"DEATH FIRST!" Eric bellowed.
It was then that the Princess stepped forward, whispering, "Will you promise not to hurt him?"
"What was that?!" the Prince and Eric barked simultaneously.
"If we surrender, freely and without struggle, and I return to you, will you swear not to hurt this man?" Kookie requested in a soft voice, disentangling herself from her beloved's warm embrace.
"I swear on the grave of my dearly beloved father and mother," Prince Schmooperdinck swore solemnly, raising his right hand, "I shall not hurt this man, and if I do, may I never hunt again though I live a thousand years."
"There," Kookie said, turning to Eric. "You can't ask for more than that, and that is the truth."
"The truth," Eric spat, "is that you would rather live with your Prince than die with your love."
"I would rather you live than die, I admit it."
After a long pause, Eric replied, his tone as cold as the icy blue of his eyes. "We were talking of love, madam."
Kookie's words cut him to a thousand pieces. "I can live without love."
And with that she walked away from her Farm Boy.
**ooO][Ooo**
"Wait, wait, wait!" Sookie interrupted. "That doesn't even make sense!"
Claudine leveled an exasperated gaze at her godchild.
"How could she choose the Schmoo over Eric?" Sookie protested, tears welling in her eyes. "After everything he's done for her?"
"Do you want me to go on with the story?"
"She's so stupid!" Sookie complained.
After a moment, she leaned back and motioned with her hand to indicate that she was done with her outburst.
Claudine cleared her throat and continued.
**ooO][Ooo**
Schmooperdink's eyes followed her as she walked towards him.
"When we are out of sight," he murmured to Count Balls, "Take that Man in Black and throw him in the Pit of Despair."
"For a moment, I believed your oath," the Count whispered, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight.
"I spoke truth: I never lie," the Prince declared. "I said I would not hurt him. But I never for a
moment said he would not suffer pain. You will do the actual tormenting. I will only reap the rewards."
He reached for the Princess then, placing her in his arms and riding off into the darkness.
Eric awoke to see Count Balls peering over him.
"So nice of you to join us," the count's voice slithered over him, following Eric's eyes from the suction cups attached to his body, ending at the curious machine next to him.
"Beautiful, isn't it? I suppose you are wondering what it does. Well, should I tell you or show you? I am excited to see how well it works—but I guess that explaining the agonizing suffering that will soon be unleashed upon you will make it all the more effective.
"You see, you were only ever supposed to be the distraction ... you know, the conflict. Boy meets girl, girl is distracted by sexy bad-boy. But then the girl is supposed to snap out of it, finding her inevitable way back to her twoo wuv. Happily ever after, n' all. It's in the script! Well, you just had to go and ruin that, didn't you?
"But I want you to know one thing: I do admire you—you are possibly the strongest, most brilliant and brave, the most altogether worthy creature it has ever been my privilege to meet, and you're pretty easy on the eyes, too. I feel almost sad that I must destroy you. But the Prince must get his happy ending."
Eric looked up at The Count, swallowing the fear and dread that threatened to erupt. He was not afraid of much in the world, but being caught defenseless in the hands of an obvious madman disturbed him to the core.
Count Balls continued his diabolical monologue. "It's all your fault, you see. You ruined it with your superior fighting skills and irresistible charm. The Prince was supposed to be the one that saved her—but no matter, we can write around it. You see—that's precisely what this machine is for. I've even hired extra writers. They've been locked away in there," he said, pointing to a door on the opposite wall. "Slaving away, day and night, coming up with alternative plot twists to fix this."
"Well, back to the matter at hand—the Machine. As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old," he continued with a creepy fascination. "Really, that's all this is except that instead of sucking water, I'm sucking life. With every change to the story, I am sucking away a year of your life. Well, to be perfectly accurate, some are worse than others—that's why I built in this handy dial. It can be set from one to twenty but, this being our first attempt, I'll use the lowest setting."
"Let's see. What do we have here?" the Count pondered aloud, turning the dial to the first level. The machine sputtered and shook, eventually spitting out a piece of paper. "Ahhhh, yes, this was a stroke of brilliance. Your beautiful, long golden hair will be chopped off."
A gasp escaped Eric's mouth before he could stop it. And suddenly he was writhing and moaning, biting down on his lips to prevent giving The Count the satisfaction of hearing him scream out loud.
Kookie and Schmooperdinck were married at sunset. And at midnight she met her subjects again, this time as their queen. "I present to you your queen," Schmooperdink announced from the balcony, "Queen Kookie."
Queen Kookie entered the square to the wild cheers of the crowd, except for one boo-er, growing increasingly louder. The crowd parted to reveal a drop-dead gorgeous woman, in every sense the mirror opposite of Queen Kookie—her white-blond hair falling straight down her back and her skin, as pale as cream standing out in stark contrast against Kookie's deep golden tan. Her cornflower blue eyes though, matched the Queen's perfectly, burning with intensity.
"Why do you do this?" Kookie demanded.
"Because you are not worthy of cheers," the tall blonde said, and suddenly she loomed over the Queen, her voice growing colder and harder. "You are trouble, and will bring nothing but misery to those who fall into helpless adoration of your sweetness. Have you not a drop of mercy in your cold heart? Not even for your true love?
"But they would have killed Eric if I hadn't done it," Kookie protested.
"Your true love lives! And yet, you marry another."
She addressed the crowd. "True Love saved her in the Fire Swamp, and this is how she thanks him? By dropping him like so much garbage? And that's what she is, the Queen of Refuse. Why you just have to look at the cheap quality of her Wal-Mart rayon," the woman snorted, fingering the fabric of the Queen's dress with disdain. "So bow down to her if you want. Bow to the Queen of Slime, the Queen of Filth, the Queen of Putrescence. Boo. Rubbish. Filth. Slime. Muck."
Kookie sunk to the ground in shame and despair, but through her tears, she couldn't help but notice the gorgeous stilettos that adorned the feet in front of her. "Nice pumps," she mumbled through her tears, only to look up and see the woman give her a conspiratorial wink.
The tall blond grabbed Kookie's arms and raised her to her feet. "You are sweet. You just can't help yourself, can you?"
Kookie woke up with a start.
Kookie was relieved that it was just a terrible dream, but that didn't prevent the nightmares from returning.
It was now ten days to the wedding, and her nights were filled with terror. .
After awakening in screams once again, Kookie jumped out of bed and ran to The Prince's chambers. Schmooperdink looked up from his work with alarm, rising and striding towards Kookie.
He settled her into a seat and kneeled beside his Princess. "What is it?"
Kookie took a ragged breath, and began. "It comes to this. I love Eric. I always have. I always will. I did not know this when you came to me. But if you say I must marry you in ten days, I will be dead by morning."
"I admit that when we first became engaged, there was no love involved," The Prince stated in a soft tone. "That was as much my choice as yours. But surely you must have noticed, in this last month of parties and festivities, a certain warming of my attitude."
"I have. You have been both sweet and noble."
"Thank you," Schmooperdink replied, holding her hands and gazing into her eyes. "Having said that, I hope you appreciate how difficult it is for me to admit: I would die myself rather than cause you unhappiness by standing in the way of you marrying the man you love."
Kookie was beside herself with relief and gratitude, and some manner of guilt. "I will bless you all my days for your kindness." Then she rose, tugging at his hands to pull him up. "So it's settled. Our wedding is off."
"Except for perhaps one thing."
"That being?" she asked.
"Have you considered the possibility that he might no longer want to marry you?"
"You were, I hate to remind you," the Prince continued "Not altogether gentle with his emotions in the Fire Swamp. Forgive me for saying that, my sweet tartlet, but you did leave him in the lurch, in a manner of speaking."
Kookie sat back down with a thud, her heart racing at possibilities she hadn't even let herself imagine.
Schmooperdink sank to her side, closing his large cool hand over hers. "This Eric of yours, this sailor boy—he is prideful?" he asked, working hard at keeping the sneer from his voice.
"More than any man alive, I sometimes think," she whispered, her eyes widening.
"Well consider then, dearest. Here he is, off sailing somewhere: he has had a month to survive the emotional lashings you dealt him. What if he wants now to remain single? Or, worse, what if he has found another?"
Sorrow and fear clutched at Kookie's throat, but she straightened her shoulders and defiantly met the Prince's eyes. "Eric will always come for me."
"I think, my sweet pastry, we should strike a bargain, you and I. You write him a letter, telling him everything. We'll make four copies. I'll take my four fastest ships and order them off in all directions. Whichever of my ships finds him will run the white flag of truce and deliver your letter. If Eric wants to marry you still, bless you both. If, for reasons too unpleasant to mention, his pride will not let him, then please consider me as an alternative to suicide. Agreed?"
Kookie nodded.
"Do me this favor, though: until we know Eric's intentions, one way or another, let us continue as we have, so the festivities will not be halted. And if I seem too fond of you, remember that I cannot help myself."
"Agreed," Kookiesaid.
The wedding was nearing, with still no word from Eric.
Princess Kookie entered the Prince's chambers, to find him leaning towards Alcide, a terrifying expression of great anger contorting his features. Alcide, the Chief of All Enforcement and quite possibly the largest man she'd ever known, was practically cowering in fear. Seeing Kookie, The Prince wiped the fury from his face with blinding speed, replacing it with his saccharine-sweet gentleman face.
"Ahhh, my sweet-puff," The Prince said in honeyed tones, striding towards her. Taking her hands in his, he gazed into her eyes with adoration. "Tonight we marry. Alcide, tomorrow at sunset your men will escort us to Florin Channel, where every ship in my Armada awaits to accompany us on our honeymoon—"
"Every ship but four," Kookie corrected.
His smile faded. "Yes, yes, of course," he chuckled nervously. "Naturally, not those four."
"The ships were never sent," Kookie realized. "Don't bother lying to me anymore." Her pain radiated, her hatred shimmered.
"Whatever was done was done for your own good, sweet puddin' pah."
"Somehow, I don't think so," she retorted, crossing her arms against her chest and raising her chin defiantly.
"You're nervous, I'm nervous; we're getting married tomorrow," The Prince attempted to calm her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and guiding her towards the door. "We've got a right to be."
"You couldn't be more wrong, you know: I'm very calm," the Princess replied, brushing his arm aside. "It doesn't matter whether you sent the ships or not. Eric will come for me."
Prince Schmooperdinck was getting annoyed. "You're a silly girl, now go to your room."
"Yes, I am a silly girl —that's all I ever was and ever will be to you. But you are a coward with a cold, dead heart filled with nothing but fear."
The Prince threw back his head, his maniacal laughter filling the room. "The greatest hunter in the world, and you say I am a coward?"
"I do, I do indeed. I say you are a coward and you are; you hunt only to reassure yourself that you are not what you are: the slimiest weakling to ever walk the Earth."
"You should not say such things," the Prince spat, each word punctuated with menace.
Kookie ignored the threat. "And why not? My love will come for me and then we will be gone, and you will be helpless for all your hunting, because Eric and I are joined by the bond of love and you cannot track that, not with a thousand hellhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords."
"YOU SHOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS!!!" Schmooperdinck roared as he grasped her arm with violent force, digging his fingers so deeply into her skin that bruises were already forming. He pulled her along with only a minimal effort at gentleness, yanking open the door to her room as they came upon it. He pushed her inside and locked her in, then turned, his humiliation, desperation and homicidal rage growing darker with each angry stride he took towards the Pit of Despair.
The Prince strode over to the table where Eric was strapped to The Machine.
"We have a score to settle," he growled, standing menacingly over Eric, "She is mahn ... and there is nothing you can do about it."
"You keep using that phrase," Eric growled at his captor. "I do not think it means what you think it means."
"Oh, she will soon forget you, and she will be mahn. Then she will learn the real meaning of twu wuv."
Eric snorted, and then coughed with the pain ripping through his battered body. "You can't even pronounce it right. You wouldn't know true love if it bit you in the ass."
Schmooperdinck stood over Eric, fuming, clenching his fists. .
"You will never have her. In this, you are now utterly helpless. Accept it!" he demanded.
Eric groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the table at Prince Schmooperdink's increasingly desperate verbal assault. It would be laughable if laughing would not cause him so much pain. Did his royal Schmoopiness even realize that he was only describing himself?
"Have you always enjoyed talking about yourself in the 3rd person?" Eric gritted through clenched teeth, "It's too late, Schmoops — we're a part of each other. She will always be mine, and I am hers."
The Prince seethed. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking unnecessary breaths to tamp down his anger. He opened his eyes and peered down at Eric.
"You are right," he whispered with a deathly calm, the eerie quiet in the eye of his storm. "She does love you. She loves you still and you love her, so when you think of that, think of this, too: you might have been happy, genuinely happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, not really, no matter what the storybooks say, but you could have had it, and so, I would think, no one will ever suffer a loss as great as you."
With that, pompously judging this to be the moment of greatest dramatic effect, he turned the dial as far as it could go, and even strained against it to push it farther.
The Count's cry of "No, not to twenty!" came entirely too late. And besides, his plea could not have stopped the flood of wrath that spilled out of the Prince and commanded his fingers to exact ultimate vengeance.
Schmooperdinck angrily ripped the script revision out of the machine, his lips snarling in anticipatory glee as he started reading. "The Princess must be rescued from an evil Maenad. The audience will be distracted by senseless and disturbing orgies. The bad boy will be held impotently captive, far away from the action, leaving the town and Princess Kookie in the clutches of the bloodthirsty, horny Maenad until her Prince can swoop in and save the day, er—night."
Eric's eyes flashed anger and disgust at this last, final offense. Too brutal, even for the strongest, truest, bravest of hearts to withstand. His body convulsed and writhed on the table. It was too egregious, too senseless! Pain overwhelmed him. His Death Scream traveled through the room at blinding speed, screeching into the ears of every living soul for miles.
And Eric's life was sucked away.
The Prince walked over to Count Balls, shaking the paper in front of his face. "What IS this?" He demanded.
"Why, it's how you get the girl, your Highness!"
"It's ludicrous! They'll hate it. It will never work!" he screamed, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside.
"Of course it will," the count assured him. "It's foolproof."
"It will be a debacle!" the Prince insisted, shaking his head. "It will alienate and bore the viewers."
"Nonsense," Count Balls replied, an evil grin twisting his lips. "Trust me on this one. It will be absolutely brilliant! Award-winning, in fact!"
Godric reached Eric's side just as his Death Scream was fading away. Life was ebbing from Eric, but the few final sparks were yet still there, clinging desperately.
Godric kneeled by his side, frantically pulling off the offending suction cups, and offered him the only gift he could. Eric's eyes fluttered open, releasing one final tear.
"Would you choose death—if it meant life?" Godric whispered, asking for permission to save him.
"Explain yourself, Vampire." Eric croaked weakly.
"I can save you, but only by giving you my undead blood," Godric replied, the sadness of his immortal years weighing down his voice and his shoulders.
"What's in it for me?"
At this, Godric broke into a wide grin. "What you love most: true love."
**ooO][Ooo**
Claudine closed the book.
"And then?! What happens then?!!" Sookie asked.
"It's unwritten, as of yet ..." Claudine replied.
"What the Eff?" Sookie huffed in astonished frustration.
"Miss Stookie Stackhouse!" Claudine said in shock. "When did you learn such colorful language?"
"I ... I dunno," Sookie stammered.
"Well, it says it's on hiatus ..." Claudine murmured. "But there is a spoiler section. Would you like to be spoiled, dear Sookie?"
Sookie nodded eagerly.
"Let's see," Claudine languorously opened the book and leafed through the pages. "Here we go."
**ooO][Ooo**
When Eric's eyes opened again, he was leaning against a hard cool surface that felt like a stone wall, and saw a small man of child-like cherubic beauty staring back at him with big, round eyes. He seemed somewhat familiar, but the memory was elusive. Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously and scanned his surroundings.
"He wakes," Godric whispered, settling down beside him.
Eric's eyes snapped back to the man-child. "Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where is my Kookie?"
"Let me explain," Godric replied. "No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Kookie is marrying Schmooperdinck in a little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the Princess, and make our escape ... after I kill Count Balls. "
"That doesn't leave much time for dilly-dallying," Eric said matter-of-factly as he sat up.
"You can already move? That's wonderful!"
Eric grinned, looking down at the beautiful and sweet child-man. "I've always been a quick healer. What are our liabilities?"
"There is but one working castle gate, and it is guarded by 60 men."
"And our assets?" Eric inquired hopefully.
"Well, since we are now both undead — " Godric replied, "We have vampire strength and speed."
"Oh, and why must you kill the Count?" Eric asked.
"Why it's quite simple, my child. He killed you—destroyed your character. This deed can not go unpunished."
**ooO][Ooo**
Fangtasia, 2004
"So, Bill, are you quite attached to your ... friend?" the vampire hunk asks, brushing his blond hair out of his eye with his long, pale fingers, looking like he just stepped out of a romance novel. He fixes his ice blue eyes on the buxom blond, and she can't help but wonder if he really needs to get that hair out of his eye, or if it's just one more way he is drawing her in. She also can't help the shivers that threaten to overwhelm her as she feels the energy race between them. He is sheer beauty, this creature. She could drown in those eyes.
She is grateful when her companion steps in to protect her.
"She is mine," Bill the vampire says, hoping that this will deter his sheriff, but knowing that it's unlikely.
"Yes, I am his," she adds, trying but miserably failing to convince narrowing blue eyes that simply don't buy it.
"Well, what a pity ..." he pauses, licking his lips. "For me."
His gaze lingers, not entirely unwelcomed. It travels languorously over her body, and she appreciates that his appreciation seems to start and end with her eyes.
He inclines his head, at once dismissing his visitors and expressing his approval. Her companion bows to his Sheriff and takes her hand, turning to go.
But as Bill starts to walk away, the Viking's silky whisper caresses Sookie's ears.
"As you wish," he pauses. "Lover."
She spins around sharply. Her eyes widen. He winks, and the smile that curves the corners of his mouth is anything but sweet.
A/N: Halloween is so much fun...what a great excuse to play with my two favorite romances ever – the Princess Bride and the Viking and the Barmaid. And a happy ending!
So, a HUGE thanks to my amazing fairy god-beta, nycsnowbird. I couldn't have done it without you! Also thanks to VampLover1, for setting your extremely talented and hawkish beta eyes to the final product. You can't get anything by this one ;p And of course, to all my girls at the Sookieverse – you know who you are. Thanks for all the handholding :)
Any mistakes remaining are totally mine ;p
Extra credit: Can you guess what the Count's initials stand for? * cackles maniacally *