Putting up this one earlier than usual because I'm going to be VERY busy in the next couple of days.
So many quotes coming up. Again, thank you so much whoever put up that transcript!
One thing I'd like to note is that if you watch the original "The Princess Bride" movie (or read the book), Buttercup is a highly passive character. For now, Heero is following in that mold, but for a totally different reason, which I hope I've explained well. But no worries, guys. He'll snap out of that stupor before too long. The story may begin just like the original, but I promise you now, it certainly won't end that way!
Enjoy!
Five years later, the square of the city was filled as never before for the great spectacle. The prince of Sanc, a young man of twenty-five years of age, had returned after a long absence, and he had announced that he would choose the person he would marry based upon the outcome of an open tournament. Young men and women came from throughout the kingdom to compete for the prince's affections and notice, while many others simply watched in awe at the battle prowess waged before their eyes.
It was tradition for all members of the royal family to be represented in such a tournament, but as Princess Relena was untrained and young, being only thirteen herself, her chief knight, Heero Yuy, stood in her stead. So it was perhaps inevitable that Prince Zechs became Heero's only rival in the competition, both outclassing all other warriors with their strength and skill. But Heero had no choice but to yield in the final combat, as he could not go against his oath and risk harming the prince, leaving Zechs himself the champion of his own tournament.
Heero lay in the dirt, looking up at the prince. He had permitted the final blow, not taking the opening that had presented itself. And he could tell from the quirk of the prince's lips that he was aware his win was a forfeit rather than a victory. He offered Heero a hand, but the knight rose to one knee on his own, lowering his head to the prince respectfully.
"Well fought, Your Highness," he said.
"I would prefer something more of a true challenge," Zechs replied. "Wouldn't you?"
"As Your Highness wishes," Heero did not look up, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the scratches in the dirt from their duel.
"Oh," and Zechs leaned forward, putting a hand on the crest of Heero's head and tipping it upwards, "I believe I shall get precisely what I wish." Laughingly, Zechs marched up to the reviewing stand to address the gathered crowds.
Heero lurched himself upright, panic beating against his chest as the prince began to speak.
"My people, it is an honor to have such skilled and powerful men and women willing to stand before me this day, not only on the field of battle but amongst you all. But I believe today has shown that a commoner like yourselves may not be so common after all. I believe it is clear that only one has earned the right to stand with me as my consort. A month from today, I shall marry the warrior known as Heero Yuy, and our land will be truly safe with him to protect it!"
Heero looked stalwartly ahead while the cheering erupted around him, his emptiness utterly consuming him. He ignored the thumps of congratulations from his fellow guards and soldiers, his eyes unseeing. Though the law of the land gave Prince Zechs the right to choose his betrothed, Heero did not love him and never would. It was as though his heart had died once more, and it ached.
Heero escaped from the palace the very next day to ride Winged as far and as fast as he could. It was an illusion of freedom, and one he permitted himself as he attempted to prepare for the future before him. To trade kisses with a man he did not love, a man whose eyes were not blue-green, whose hair was not the golden yellow of the pale morning dawn, whose shoulders did not meet his exactly, it was abhorrent, impossible – and yet to disobey the royal family, not to mention making Princess Relena cry, was beyond him. All he had left was his post, his duties, his mission.
"Ninmu ryokai," he whispered to himself in resignation. He could not love Prince Zechs, but he could serve and protect him, and perhaps it would be enough.
He drew his horse up sharply upon seeing two figures on the road before him. One was a short man with a very prominent nose and grey hair that stood out like a large upturned basket on his head, wearing an embroidered white tunic and grey leggings. The other was a young man of about his own age with black hair and narrowed black eyes.
"A word, good sir," said the grey-haired man. "We appear to be lost. Is there a village nearby?"
"There is nothing nearby," Heero answered in what he knew was his stiffest way. "Not for miles."
"Then there will be no one to help you."
Later Heero would curse his grief and emptiness for the unforgivable slowness of his reactions. He read the threat in the man's posture before the words had spilled from his lips, but Heero was only beginning to draw his ever-present blade when a weight fell onto him from above. He was cognizant of Winged rearing in panic and falling over on himself, and then there was a sharp blade at his throat.
"Don't move," warned the black-eyed young man. He held a broadsword, a dao from the Far East, Heero's mind informed him. Heero managed to catch a glance of auburn hair and felt the practiced movements of nimble fingers disarming him, catching even the tiniest blades hidden in his boots and the cuffs of his over-tunic. He considered his options.
"Don't," repeated the black-eyed young man warily. "There is no honor in dying just to defy us."
"Hn," was Heero's noncommittal snort in response. Heero allowed himself to be chained and led to a nearby boat. His heart both lifted and sank at the sight of it – the vessel was easily capable of a short sea voyage, so perhaps he would meet the exact same fate as Quatre in the end. He felt guilty for caring so little for his life when Quatre had so treasured it, but he also couldn't be much bothered with it, either. After all, if these men killed him, he couldn't marry Prince Zechs. And while he did not want to die per se, Heero found no value in living. Quatre was dead. Everything else was already meaningless.
"What are you doing, G?" the brown-haired man, whom Heero could now see was tall and lanky with piercing green eyes, called over his shoulder to the older man while he ran a chain from Heero's manacles to the mast.
"This is fabric from an Ozian soldier. Leaving it with the horse, the prince will assume his enemies have kidnapped his betrothed." The man called G tangled a length of cloth in Winged's halter before sending it back down the road with a smack. "When Zechs finds his body dead on the Ozian frontier, his suspicions will be totally confirmed."
"You never said anything about killing anyone."
"I've hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition," G said proudly, climbing aboard.
"I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent person."
"Am I going mad, or did the word think just escape your lips? I did not hire you for your brains, you leaping mantis!" G's face contorted angrily.
"I agree with Trowa," the black-eyed man cast them off and jumped aboard, his expression stony.
"Oh, the professor has spoken! What happens to him is not truly your concern. I will kill him! And remember this, never forget this: when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk, you couldn't even hold your precious sword!" G turned to Trowa and raged at him. "And you! Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless! Do you want me to send you back to where you were, unemployed and following a circus around hoping for peanuts!?"
"Wufei..." Trowa said softly as G turned towards the bow of the ship, looking at the compass and only barely containing his anger. The younger man's face was passive but there was distress in his voice
"Don't listen to him," Wufei shook his head, black hair almost blue in the fading light, and he put a hand on the other's shoulder. "You have not lost your worth just because you lack knowledge. I am sorry now we ever took this job, but to leave now would be dishonorable too. We must see it through."
"It's still not right," and here Trowa's green eyes fixed themselves on Heero fully. "He shouldn't have to die this way."
"I know," Wufei looked at their prisoner, too, and his voice was low. "I know."
"Kill me," Heero said, startling both of them. "Kill me and be done with it. I will not blame you. I am not afraid to die."
"That's the plan!" shouted G from the bow. "Glad you're happy to go along with it, soldier."
"You would accept your fate so easily?" Wufei leaned down, frowning. "You would die as a pawn in a game of war, not caring what your death might bring?"
"I have already failed in my mission," Heero returned, voice cold. "What does the end matter after that?"
"Don't you have anything to live for?" Trowa asked.
"Not anymore." Heero looked away.
Heero closed his eyes to wait. If his time to die had come, he was more than ready to meet it.
-==OOO==-
"...He held a broadsword, a dao from the Far East, Heero's mind informed him. Heero managed to catch a glance of auburn hair and felt the practiced movements of nimble fingers disarming him, catching even the tiniest blades hidden in his boots and the cuffs of his over-tunic..."
"Um...?"
"What is it now?"
"Well the fighting is good, but why did you call it a dao? Isn't it a katana?"
"No, it's a dao. I don't know why everybody gets that wrong. Lazy thinking and too many old vids."
"O...kay."
P.S. I had to put that little snark in there because it's a mistake I'm guilty of, too. But I am not going to repost all of The Silken Cord to correct it, so I'm just lumped in with the rest of the fandom who apparently didn't look closely at Wufei's sword. Sigh.