A/n: Hey hey hey, here's a new chapter! And boy is it a long one! Haha. I don't really have mcuh to say (odd, I know, lol) so just read on. :)

Chapter 14

Will, Westley and Elisabeth raced through the castle, Elisabeth leading the way to the throne room. The three of them efficiently and quietly disposed of any guards they met along the way. Will and Westley were using their swords and Elisabeth was using the iron bedpost she'd used to break the doorknob off her door. It was heavy and a bit cumbersome, but was highly effective for tripping and knocking guards out no matter where she hit them.

"Where did you learn to wield a bedpost like that?" Westley asked jokingly.

"Oh, I've had practice with similar objects." She stated, and winked at Will. He remembered the moments when he and Elisabeth had been in the cave on Isle De Muerta, using that huge scepter-like piece of gold to take out three cursed pirates.

Westley raised his eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing. Instead, he changed the subject. "Oh, and pardon me for asking, Elisabeth. But, if you could get out of your room so easily, how come you did not until we came for you?"

"Hardly thought of it, now did I? There was no way I, by myself, could have taken on all four of those guards outside my door." She explained. "And even if I was able to, how would I have gotten out of the castle, alone, with so many guards guarding the only gate? And with Yellin possessing the only key? Without help - "

"Alright, alright." Westley conceded with a grin. "Point proven."

The three ran on and when they reached the throne room, panting hard, they paused for a moment around the corner to catch their breath.

"Ok." Westley spoke between breaths. "Once we're… in there… take down… the guards… first. Don't… let him… escape."

There was no question as to who "he" was.

"What about… Buttercup… and Inigo?" Will asked, also panting.

"They'll be here." Westley gulped up more air before his breathing was almost normal. When they all had prepared themselves mentally for the next battle, sure to be a large one, and when each of them had more or less caught their breath, they whipped around the corner. They took care of the handful of guards in front of the throne room before flinging open the massive wood doors and plunging head first into a very big battle indeed.

Inigo's eyes were shut and his head was resting against the icy cold stone wall. He was shivering and hungry and a little roughed up, but other than that, he was quite fine. This was all part of the plan. He didn't expect himself and Elisabeth to escape earlier, though that would have made things a lot easier. Thus why he had had no plan for getting out of the castle, because it technically wasn't part of the plan.

For now, he was locked up in one of the deepest, dirtiest dungeons he had ever seen, but he knew Buttercup ought to be on her way shortly if not already. Providing Westley hit no major snags, Inigo was confident that Buttercup would be here with jingling keys within the hour.

He shifted and stretched, trying to ignore the stiffness in his neck and the start of pins and needles in his legs. Soon. He thought. She'll be here quite soon. No need to worry.

As if on cue, there was some scuffling and shouting not too far away. More shouting followed by a very loud thud. Running footsteps, shouts, and another very large thump. Quiet for a moment.

Inigo sat up, clutching the greasy and frozen handlebars, his face practically pressed between them, trying to see what was going on.

Jingling of keys, the lantern down the hall flickering… and then growing brighter.

Inigo held his breath.

"Inigo?" a female voice called.

Inigo grinned. Right on time. "Over here!" he waved his arm madly from behind the bars.

Buttercup dashed toward him with the lantern and the keys. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. How's everything upstairs?"

"Left them to get you. They were trying to break out Elisabeth from her room." Buttercup said as she tried key after key in the rusty lock on Inigo's prison cell.

"Now would have been a good time to have Fezzik." Inigo mumbled.

"Hey, speaking of Fezzik. Where is he, anyways? I thought you two were never apart?" Buttercup found the correct key and the lock clanked reluctantly open. She pulled it off and stood to open the door fully.

"Well, usually we are not." Inigo admitted and thankfully stepped out of the grimy cell. He and Buttercup quickly made their way to the door leading out of the dungeons. "But I was busy captaining the Revenge and he hadn't seen his mother in so long, so he decided to take leave of our ship for while to visit his mother in Greenland."

"Oh, well that's nice." Buttercup gracefully stepped over the unconscious bodies of the two guards she had taken out to get to Inigo.

"Yes, I thought so. I got a letter from him about a week ago." Inigo followed Buttercup's lead and casually stepped over the guards and out the dungeon door. "He's having a wonderful time and he'll be returning by the end of the month, so I'm to save him a spot in the Mess Hall on the ship for dinner."

Buttercup laughed and shut the dungeon door behind them. She locked it with a smart clicking noise, and she Inigo hurried on to the throne room.

"This is it, Saradon!" Westley shouted. "You have no where to hide!"

Saradon looked up from talking to his Head Guard with mild surprise. "Oh. It's you."

Elisabeth tightened the grip on her bedpost fiercely, eyeing the guards in the room dangerously. Will moved a little closer to Elisabeth, silently daring anyone to even come near her. Westley had his sword raised quite high in an attack manner, and he remembered the last time he'd seen Saradon.

"Drop… your… sword."

Humperdinck obediently and sacredly let his sword clatter to the ground.

"Have a seat."

"How nice of you to drop by." Saradon said sarcastically, as if they were some particularly unsavory relatives he had been expecting for several hours now.

Westley shook his head. "I left you alive once, and I shall not be making the same mistake twice."

Saradon snorted skeptically. "I'm sure. However, Hero Boy, I am not sure if you noticed how utterly outnumbered you are." He gestured to the guards scattered all around the throne room. It looked like thirty to fourty. No big deal for five well-trained, experienced and rather passionate people.

The guards began to move together towards the center of the room, and as they gathered, it was became unnervingly clear how many there actually were.

Will glanced at Elisabeth nervously. Last time he'd fought against this many – well, come to think of it, he hadn't. Unless the time he saved Jack from a hanging in Port Royal counted. But he'd definitely lost that one, until Elisabeth had convinced Norrington and her father to let him and Jack go.

Elisabeth looked just as nervous, the grip on her bedpost turning to a white-knuckled one. We can do it. She thought and hoped Will could read that message in her eyes. We've fought totally evil pirates that can't die. How hard can this be?

Westley was bobbing his head and mouthing numbers as he tried to count. He let out a frustrated noise and shouted, "Will you stop moving! I'm trying to count!"

The guards looked startledly at one another and stopped moving. Many seemed quite confused and several looked back at Saradon, wondering what to do next. Saradon rolled his eyes.

"Ah… fourty-eight… fourty-nine…" counted Westley. "Fifty… fifty-one. Fifty-one?"

"Close. Fifty-six." Saradon said lazily, as if they were merely counting jelly-beans from a Guess How Many jar.

"Darn." Westley shrugged and Elisabeth exchanged worried and disbelieving glances with Will who also shrugged.

"Down to business, then?" Saradon suggested.

"Uh, well, you see, two of my party is missing…" Westley started, checking back over his shoulder twice to see if Buttercup and Inigo had arrived yet.

Elisabeth couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief. This wasn't a business meeting to be settled over tea! They were about to kill each other!

"Too bad. It looks like you will have to start without them." Saradon's face took a twisted evil grin, one that was highly unpleasant and made everyone, including the guards, quite uncomfortable.

Three guards near the doors began closing them.

"Wait!" someone shouted.

Before anyone knew where the shout had come from, Buttercup and Inigo slide into the throne room, panting and sweating, each holding their swords out.

"Late." Westley mumbled.

"The dungeons are rather far away, Dear." Buttercup snapped.

Inigo ducked his head and muffled his laughter.

"Enough!" Saradon thundered. "This is not a bloody tea party! Guards, kill them ALL!"

The doors snapped shut in the same instant that Saradon had shouted, and all the rest of the fifty-six guards unsheathed their swords simultaneously. There was an instant where the guards took slow, tentative steps forward and while Westley, Buttercup, Inigo, Will and Elisabeth calculated their odds and silently picked which guards they would take on first.

The next instant, everything broke loose.

Saradon sat smugly on his throne, quite removed from the action, his robes spread out elegantly across the cushioned seat underneath him. His elbow was supported by the armrest and his chin leaned into the palm his hand. His arrogant smile never wavered as he watched Westley's rather small group fight for their lives against immeasurably impossible odds.

It was almost too easy.

Will blocked, parried, thrust, twirled, slashed, poked, jabbed, cut, shifted, and continued to drive back or finish his attackers. He was tiring, but he would keep it up forever if he had to. He would die before he let anyone hurt Elisabeth. Who, he had to admit, was holding her own quite well.

Elisabeth and Buttercup were working together extremely well. Elisabeth would swing her bedpost around and Buttercup would duck or move out of the way, while the guards did not. Buttercup used her sword to take out any guards who were distracted by Elisabeth's flying bedpost. Then the girls would switch weapons with two smooth tosses, just to really mess the guards up. They seemed to be taking down more guards between the two of them then Inigo, Westley and Will put together. The only problem was that their attacks were slowly beginning to lose intensity as their muscles began to ache with effort.

Westley and Inigo were back to back, using different advanced techniques they had learned from their sword training to ward off their own attackers. Though they were making a gap in the guards' ranks, it wasn't a huge gap and they too were tiring slowly.

All five of them were sweating profusely and it was beginning to be a struggle to keep the guards back.

Saradon continued to grin unflinchingly from his fancy throne, not concerned in the slightest. Though there were approximately only twenty to thirty guards left fighting among the dead and unconscious ones littering the floor, that was enough of a challenge for five, he thought.

When someone's sword slipped through Will's defense, it left him with a nasty cut across his right arm and shoulder. He immediately turned up the ferocity in his attacks to prevent any other close calls. He was quite thankful the cut was not deep enough to hinder his sword skills, for he was ruddy awful with his left hand.

Buttercup and Elisabeth were backed into a corner and running out of steam. Elisabeth was now using the bedpost as purely defensive while Buttercup thrust and jabbed relentlessly. The guards did not seem to be making any headway, thought neither was Buttercup.

Inigo continued his aggressive techniques while Westley attempted to focus more on the defensive side of things. He wasn't back to back with Inigo anymore, though he was near enough offer immediate aid if it came to it. One hulking guard in particular was really starting to annoy Westley.

There were still about fifteen to twenty guards left, and this was when Saradon's smile faltered ever so slightly. From fifty-six to about twenty? Just the five of them? But the flicker of a faltering smile was only slight. The five were becoming more tired by the moment, and it was only a matter of time before one of them made a mistake and fell to join the dead on the floor. There was no way the five of them could take down all the guards.

Will was losing ground and stepping back with each new stab from his attacker. He had to defend against the one directly in front of him and he had to continually swing his blade in different arcs to his left and right to keep his defense up. He had no room to attack anyone himself in this increasingly dangerous three on one situation.

Buttercup grit her teeth and was forcing out attacks between weakening defensive moves. In split second, a sword tip penetrated between her slashes, and she only had time to move a tiny bit right so the sword bit into her left arm instead of her heart. She cried out and stepped backwards so her back was flat to the wall.

Elisabeth grabbed Buttercup's sword immediately to take up the slack and fill the hole. "Are you alright?" she asked without looking at Buttercup, for fear she would be next. Elisabeth jabbed the bedpost forward to knock one guard down at the knee. He howled in pain and she pierced another guard who clearly thought all her attention was on the guard she'd knocked down with bedpost.

Buttercup sucked in her breath sharply and clutched her arm. "I'll be fine." She said, her eyes shut tight. Blood was squeezing between her fingers through her shirt. It'd been a sharp, deep, stab but it could have been her heart. In a manner of speaking, she supposed she was quite thankful her arm was throbbing and hurting excruciatingly.

Westley had spared the smallest of glimpses to see if it was Buttercup or Elisabeth had been hurt and it cost him. One guard sliced at his face, leaving a long gash on his cheek, while another pierced a wide cut across his leg. Thankfully, his pants took a lot of the sting of the cut on his leg. He angrily lashed out.

Though frightened at seeing his wife shrink back into the corner behind Elisabeth, a fire was rekindled at seeing her injuries. He would not let them hurt himself, but he did not even want them near Buttercup. They were going to pay for even being in this room. Instantly, the two guards who'd cut him were down.

Inigo too had spared the tiniest of looks to see who was injured it. He'd jumped back when the sword had come at his neck, resulting in a skim across his chest. He noticed out of the corner of his eye how hard Westley was suddenly fighting again, and copied his friend's passion for winning. No matter how tired or injured he got, he would finish and win this fight. He'd beaten Count Rugen nearly on the verge of death, so surely he could beat down fifteen guards with one hand tied behind his back – figuratively.

Saradon sat forward, his pulse quickening a bit. They'd hurt Buttercup, and yet they were fighting harder. Oh, this was getting a little too much. It wasn't good. Not good at all. There were barely twelve or so guards left, and the odds were sliding in Westley's favor now, which greatly concerned Saradon.

Will fought in such a way that he maneuvered to the corner that Elisabeth and Buttercup where trapped in. If he could fight beside Elisabeth, their chances were better at polishing off a few more guards than if they continued fighting alone.

Westley and Inigo rejoined forces, again back to back and now also fighting their way over to the corner with others. The guard currently before Westley sneered.

"You cannot win this. You're already weakening." He said snidely and lunged at Westley. "We are no match for you."

"You're right." Westley said and jammed his sword forward, stabbing the rude guard soundly in the chest. "You're not."

Saradon shifted in his chair. He should have known better. Westley was cunning. He knew exactly how to fight to his advantage. And apparently his companions knew how to fight extremely well also, or they'd have been done long ago. He should have ordered the guards to attack all at once, on one or two of his enemies at the same moment. That would have stopped them dead – literally – quite quickly. He would have had to find another bride, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

But guards were stupid. That's why they were guards. Most of them had hung back, trying not to get in the way of the stronger or more skilled ones, hoping the battle would be over before they had to be involved, or assuming there was no way the five against fifty-six would ever survive, so they might as well not bother. If only twenty at a time attacked five, it was far easier for them to survive. Instead of the fight getting harder for the tired five, it almost seemed to be getting easier, as the more scared, less skilled, or slow guards were the ones who were left, as they were the ones who had originally hung back.

And Saradon, too, had been confident in the odds – fifty-six against five. He'd not thought to order his guards to all concentrate their efforts or at least coordinate their efforts. Now it was too late. He watched three more guards drop like flies as Westley, the Spaniard and the foreigner joined the women in the corner. One – no, two – more guards were felled by the group. Now Saradon was sweating, and he wasn't even fighting.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Saradon stood and walked a step to the right, where there was long, thick embroidered rope hanging against the wall. Saradon gave it two sharp jerks, and resumed his seat on his shining throne. As he waited, he fought the panic rising inside of him.

No. He thought. You overcame this. You overcame this the last time he was here. That's why you changed your name. To show you were no longer a coward and no longer afraid.

Painfully, in just a split second in time, he recalled the last meeting he'd had with Westley.

A/n: Sort of an awkward spot to stop, I know. But this chapter was becoming massive and I had to break it off somewhere. And even though I went over this chapter several times, I don't wuite like it somehow. So I hope you guys do. Leave me a review and tell me what you thought.

P.S. If Diggory Hadn't Died is temporairly delayed and has been pulled out of the update schedule b/c my beta and I have been having some trouble with the last chapter and she has an extremely busy life. So it'll be up when it gets up. Sorry for the delay, all.