Disclaimer: not mine (ah, pity…)
Author's note: My take at what could very well happen after the end we've seen in this wonderful film, "The Princess Bride". Based on the film.
Beyond
Prologue
I've never been one for the proverbial happily ever after. I mean, alright, it's nice… sometimes. But ever since I were a little girl, whenever there was the last page of any storybook turned, or the credits started to flash on the screen, I could not help wondering: when they ride into sunset, or get married, or whatever in fairytales, what comes after the happily ever after part?
- Whatever you mean, after? Dear me, Susan, I swear, one more year in that college of yours, and this girl I am talking to right now will pronounce Santa Clause dead!
Right. That would be my Grandpa, visiting us cause it's rare chance to get his lil' princess of a great-granddaughter home, in person – gotta keep up the pace, the world's not getting any larger, what with the Internet and all… And I do like the man, he's made my childhood days worth remembering, but as for Santa – good riddance, I'd say. The Tooth Fairy went belly up in my third grade, when a pretty nasty case of deep caries left the pig-tailed girl that was me one fairy-tale being to believe in short. Then, again, when you're talking to a nice old man like my Gramps, you just can't hurt his feelings and live another day without your own shitty college conscience keeping you up through long sleepless nights, in utter shame, even if you honestly believe in parents buying presents, not some Mr. Kringle in a red suit dropping them all the way down the chimney. Oh, please don't look at me like that! What's a girl to do…
- Sorry. Didn't mean it like that, Gramps.
Shoulders of the old dude go relaxed. Man, one of this days I'm gonna hit the roof and fly right through it. Santa Clause! And worse, there's this family fave for the sick times – The Princess Bride. Honestly, princess? For all I know, this Buttercup girl never actually became one because her heart always stayed Westley-given. Besides, the prince, however un-charming – albeit he seemed very much charming to me, in his own political way, but then, as long as I could remember, I've never been a girl with a taste for Westley-type boys – anyway, Humperdinck never got a chance to properly ring her, this hurried farce of a wedding not counted. I never stopped thinking about Inigo too, that poor Monte Cristo-type man, living for the sole purpose of revenge … did he accept Westley's offer to have something else to live for, when his first purpose was over and done with? If not, what did he make of his life after this THE END line? More importantly, did he make it at all, wounded so badly? As a rational child, I kept thinking that the epoch they lived in was not very much into antibiotics and advanced methods of surgery… And this whole Dread Pirate Roberts thing, whatever happened to the legend, whether Inigo Montoya chose to keep it up or not? Somehow, I smelled a rat there… And what about Fezzik? What did he get as his own version of "after happily ever after"? And Buttercup's parents, for surely she had some, whatever happened to them? Specifically, why weren't they in the story at all? And all those thieves that got dislodged just because there was a rotten time for underworld dwellers – prison, and then what? And the whole kingdom of Florin – whatever happened to its grassy pastures and good people that did not live in any forests, but paid their taxes as all dutiful subjects should? Any wars with the good kingdom of Guilder there? What was it like for my favorite Prince Uncharming, I wonder? And what was life of one very miraculous outcast of the court, Miracle Max, like? And what about his wife Valerie? Questions, a thousand of them, and not a single slimy answer…
- Oh, Robert, let her be, will you? Susan has tough time in Harvard as it is, what with all the studying and part-time job of hers, let her not believe in whatever the girl pleases.
- Thanks Grandma.
- Any time dear, anytime. – She smiles at me from her tea cup at the kitchen counter. My beloved great-grandmother Andrea. Remarkable woman! One more sip of the tea. Then, dismissively, about Gramps seeking refuge behind an all of a sudden fascinating fresh copy of The New York Times. – Men of this family, of all things, Susan! They keep the tradition, but rarely ask themselves why, not that I want to blame them… often.
I only grin back. Sometime during this visit, I'll drag her aside and we shall talk. Not talk talk, but you never know… Somehow, I always had this half-told, half-whispered feeling under my skin about whenever Grandpa read that princess-that-was-not-really-princess story to me, and she just hovered there in the background sometimes, frowning here, smiling there ever so slightly, but never interfering… as if she knew perfectly well there was more to the story… but loved Gramps too much to hurt his sense of sacred knowing by her extras. Funny, I wanted to ask her so much about it all, but never got to. Well, here's my chance to rectify this. Probably today. Grandpa grunts and announces a chess match with my dad to start any minute, than folds his shield of a newspaper neatly and backs away into the lounge. Guess it's my chance…
- Um, Grandma?
- Yes, Susan. – She smiles reassuringly. Gosh, I want to have this soft confidence in myself when I am her age. – What is it, darling?
- Um, nothing, really.
One eyebrow goes up.
- O.K., not exactly nothing… Say, how about a walk up the street to this cute little café on the corner we liked to hang out at when I was still at school here, huh? Mom's not home till dinner, and I bet Gramps will make sure dad is busy defending his little army, hard.