Five years later, Clara was no longer working in the Rose and Crown. Instead, she was engaged to Prince Rupertpink. There had even been an elaborate ceremony, where Rupertpink made a ridiculous speech and she was presented to the people of the kingdom as Princess Clara. She was not at all happy with the situation. She didn't love Rupertpink. She didn't even like Rupertpink. She didn't want to be princess and eventually queen. The law said the prince could marry anyone he chose, but that didn't mean she had to like it. It certainly didn't mean she was going to sit around and let it happen.

Which was why, one autumn morning, she was riding her horse as fast as she could to the bay. She was fairly certain she could buy passage on a ship leaving Florin. If she was lucky, she'd find a Guilder ship, since they weren't exactly on friendly terms with Florin. It was unlikely that the Florin prince would be allowed to search for his missing bride in Guilder. Hopefully, he'd decide she was more trouble than she was worth and find someone else to marry. Someone without a backbone. (Maybe someone named Buttercup. She'd always felt the name Buttercup was reserved for particularly spineless individuals, ones who meekly submitted to whatever circumstance in which they happened to find themselves, no matter how unpleasant, and had absolutely no sense of adventure. Or humour.)

She caught sight of the glimmer of sunlight on water, and she urged her horse faster. 'Come on, Bonnie! Just a little farther! I've got an apple in my pocket for you if you'll just get me to the dock.' The horse must have been susceptible to bribes, because she put on a fresh burst of speed. They rounded a corner to find the road blocked by three men. Clara pulled Bonnie up sharply, leaning forward to stay in the saddle when the horse reared.

'Whoa, girl! Easy, easy.' She patted Bonnie's neck, making soothing noises until the horse calmed down. 'Sorry about that. We were going too fast, and I didn't see you.' Although now that she had a good look at them, she was amazed that she could have missed them.

They stood in a line from shortest to tallest. Although, there wasn't a whole lot of difference between the first two, a slender man with a large chin and a strange silver tattoo on the left side of his face, and a Spaniard with wild hair and thin scars on his cheeks – and one of the most beautiful swords Clara had ever seen. They both stood about six feet, and were completely dwarfed by their companion. He was a mountain of a man, almost as broad as he was tall. From where she sat on Bonnie, she could look him directly in the eye, not that he was looking at her. In fact, he gazed off to the side, a faintly bored expression on his face. On the other hand, the Spaniard stared at her intently while the man with the tattoo smiled at her. It looked like he was trying to be friendly, but it just came across as creepy.

'Can I help you?' The sooner they were on their way the sooner she could find a boat out of Florin.

Tattoo-face spread his hands ingratiatingly. 'We are poor lost circus performers. Is there a town or village nearby?' He spoke with a strange cadence, one that made the otherwise innocent question seem sinister.

Clara narrowed her eyes at him. While they certainly looked like circus performers, there was something decidedly…off about them. She opted to ignore his question for the moment. There wasn't anything for miles, and she didn't want them to know there was no one around to hear her scream. If they happened to have something planned that would involve her screaming. Being on the run was already making her paranoid. It reminded her of the old days, traveling with Basil. She pushed that thought, with its familiar sting, away and tightened her hands on the reins. Just in case. 'I didn't know there was a circus in town,' she replied instead. What's the name of your troupe?'

All three of them blinked at her. Apparently that wasn't the response they were expecting. Tattoo-Face's smile faltered for a moment, but returned full-strength. 'We are members of, of-of Hedgewick's Traveling World of Wonders! I am Vizzini, but throughout the kingdoms I am known as Mr. Clever.' He put a hand to his chest and bowed with a flourish.

'Modest, aren't you?' Clara murmured.

He shrugged, the Spaniard rolled his eyes, and the giant yawned. 'We're here for the marriage of Prince Rupertpink and the lovely Princess Clara. Part of the entertainment, you understand.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Is that right? It's funny that I haven't heard of you, then. The wedding being such a big event and all. The details have been finalized for months, and there's been absolutely no mention of a circus.' She ought to know, since it was her wedding. Even if she had no intention of actually attending it herself.

Mr. Clever seemed to be getting frustrated with her lack of cooperation. But then, cooperation had never been something she was particularly good at. Especially with people that she was pretty sure did not have her best interests at heart. He growled and turned to the giant. 'I give up. We're wasting time. Fezzik?'

The giant moved toward her, and Clara danced Bonnie away. 'Watch it!' She was confident in her horse's ability to outrun the men, in spite of their race from the castle. Bonnie was the best thing to come out of her engagement, and it saddened her that she couldn't take the horse with her to Guilder. But trying to find passage for a horse wasn't exactly the subtle escape she was hoping to achieve.

Mr. Clever heaved a long-suffering sigh. Oh, poor thing. She was inconveniencing him. 'Your highness, this would be so much easier if you would just cooperate.' So they knew who she was. Somehow she wasn't surprised.

'I've had quite enough of people trying to make me do things against my will.' Fezzik made another swipe at her, and she circled Bonnie around again. 'You're not giving me any reason to make an exception in your case.'

'I told you snatching the princess and making for the Guilder frontier was going to be harder than you thought,' the Spaniard muttered. 'Maybe next time you will realize you are not as clever as you think you are.'

'A princess with a backbone and an ounce of sense? It's inconceivable! And I didn't ask for your opinion, Montoya!' Mr. Clever shook a finger in the Spaniard's face. 'Remember this, never forget this: When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn't buy brandy!' Obviously he wasn't accustomed to people questioning his judgement or thwarting his plans.

That didn't really matter, though, because Clara only cared about one word from their exchange. 'Guilder? You're going to Guilder? Why didn't you say so in the first place?' She hopped off Bonnie, fishing out the promised apple. As the horse crunched the well-earned treat, she grinned at them. 'Take me with you!'

'Wait, you want us to kidnap you?' It was the first time Fezzik had spoken, and his voice was deep. She could feel it in her chest, and quite possibly through the soles of her feet, as well. And now that she was on the ground, she realized she barely came up to his chest. Maybe only to his waist. And she thought Basil was tall.

'Absolutely!' She retrieved her saddlebag, slung it over her shoulder, and looked at them expectantly. They stared at her. 'Well?' She waved at them impatiently. 'Let's get a move on, then. I don't have all day.' She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. 'There's probably a herd of guards on my trail already.'

Montoya and Fezzik looked at Mr. Clever, who shrugged helplessly. 'Inconceivable!'

As it turned out, their boat wasn't all that far away. Montoya and Fezzik escorted her to the dock while Mr. Clever did something with a Guilder uniform and her saddle. She didn't ask, because she didn't want her conscience interfering with her best chance to escape Florin. She was confident she could lose them at some future point, if necessary.

As they neared the boat, Montoya yelled out, 'Porridge! Get ready to cast off.' A man sitting by the rudder waved his acknowledgment and began bustling around the ship. Montoya smiled down at Clara. 'Porridge is the other member of our little crew, and the only one of us who really has any idea of what's he's doing when it comes to sailing. He wanted to stay with the boat, but you'll meet him when we go aboard.'

'How did you all meet?' They were all so dissimilar it seemed unlikely that they could have gotten together by chance.

'Fezzik and I were both down on our luck. I was, well,' he shrugged phlegmatically, 'like he said, I was broke and drunk, and Vizzini – Mr. Clever – sobered me up and offered me a job. Because,' He grinned at her, drawing his sword and performing several flashy patterns, 'I am the best swordsman in the world, drunk or sober!'

'It's a beautiful sword.' Clara didn't try to hide her admiration. Montoya and Fezzik didn't project the same discomforting aura that Mr. Clever did, and it couldn't hurt to be on good terms with 'the best swordsman in the world.'

Montoya's smile turn melancholy. 'It was made by my father for a six-fingered man. My father laboured over it for a year, but when the man returned, he refused to pay the sum he promised. When my father refused to give him the sword, the man ran him through. I was upset by this, naturally, so I took up the sword and demanded satisfaction for my father's murder. I lost, of course – I was only a boy. The man let me live, but he gave me this,' he traced the scar on one cheek, 'and this,' he did the same for the other cheek. He sighed, gazing at the sword for a moment, then sheathed it. 'For the next twenty years I study fencing. I eat, drink, dream fencing, so that the next time I meet the man, I will not lose. I will look him in the eye and say, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."'

Clara blinked at him as he stared dreamily into space. She hadn't expected quite so much…drama from an innocent comment about a sword. And she understood his desire to avenge his father's murder, but twenty years? That seemed a little excessive. Not to mention the fact that his story almost sounded rehearsed. 'Well, I hope you find him soon,' she offered lamely.

He shook off his reverie. 'You would think a six-fingered man would not be hard to find, but I have found no trace of him in all these years. It is getting a little frustrating.' He grinned sheepishly. 'That is why I was drunk when Vizzini found me.' He raised his voice. 'But I never slobber, no matter how drunk I may be!'

By now they were walking up the gangplank to the little boat. The fourth man, Porridge, was waiting for them as they came aboard. He was a short man, even shorter than Clara. In fact, next to him, she felt like what Fezzik must feel like next to her. It was an odd sensation, being taller than someone who was older than eight. 'Is Inigo telling you his six-fingered man story? He tells it to everyone we meet. Honestly, it's getting kind of old. I mean, I could tell it, I've heard it so many times.' He struck a pose and affected a Spanish accent. 'Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.' He shook his head. 'You're so dramatic.' Inigo growled in mock offence, but Porridge ignored him in favour of smiling at Clara. 'Anyway, welcome aboard, m'lady. I'm Porridge, and I'm the devastatingly good-looking and devilishly charming one of our band.'

Clara laughed and shook the hand he offered. 'Enchanting to meet you, Porridge.'

Inigo pretended to cuff Porridge with his elbow, but the shorter man ducked easily. 'You are just jealous that your story is not as colourful as mine. That is probably why you refuse to share it. You do not want us to know that you are merely a simple fisherman who ran away from home.'

Porridge slapped his head theatrically. 'You're right! You've discovered my secret, curse you! Now I'll have to drown myself in the bay to escape the shame!'

'I think drowning might be a little tame,' Fezzik stated gravely.

Clara's eyes darted to him, uncertain as to whether or not he had rhymed on purpose.

Porridge squinted at him with one eye and grinned. 'Maybe I should set myself on fire.'

'It would make a lovely pyre.' Fezzik's stoic face broke into a broad smile, and Clara was amazed at how his whole demeanor changed. She would never have guessed that he had a sense of humour. It was obvious that the three men were good friends, regardless of the circumstances that had brought them together.

She smiled at him. 'You have a gift for rhyme.'

He gently placed his hand on her head. It was so huge that it was like wearing a hat. 'Yes, yes. Some of the time.'

She laughed. 'So Fezzik, how did you end up here?'

'I found him. Unemployed. In Greenland. Which is where you'll all be going if you don't get back to work!' Mr. Clever's grating voice made them all jump. 'Why are you standing around gossiping?! I'm paying you to kidnap the princess, not invite her to a tea party!' He clearly did not share the group's camaraderie, and her opinion of the other three men went up. Anyone who was not friendly with the strange man couldn't be all bad.

Porridge and Inigo began to cast off, but Fezzik held his ground. 'I just thought it would be nice to make friends with the lady. It'll make traveling easier, since we haven't really kidnapped her.'

Mr. Clever rounded on him. 'Am I going mad, or did the word "think" escape your lips?!'

Clara leaned close to Porridge, who was coiling a rope beside her. 'Actually, it was "thought."'

Porridge snorted, and Mr. Clever whirled around, glaring at them suspiciously. Clara smiled at him blandly. He grunted and turned back to Fezzik. 'You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic land mass!'

Clara expected Fezzik to snap the shorter man in half – he certainly looked capable of such a feat – but he merely hunched his shoulders and moved to take the wheel of the boat.

Clara was ready to bite Mr. Clever's head off herself, but Inigo moved closer to Fezzik and said in a stage whisper, 'That Vizzini, he can fuss.'

Fezzik scratched his chin. 'Fuss, fuss…I think he like to scream at us!'

'Probably he means no harm,' Porridge offered.

'He's really very short on charm,' Fezzik supplied with a grin.

Clara laughed and applauded, but Mr. Clever was not amused. 'Knock it off, children. Playtime's over.'

The boat slowly moved out into the bay, but Inigo wasn't done yet. 'Fezzik! Are there rocks ahead?'

'If there are, we'll all be dead!'

'No more rhymes now, I mean it!' Mr. Clever growled.

Clara could see the wheels in Fezzik's head turning, and she held up a finger before he could say anything. She rummaged around in her saddlebag, pulling out a small pouch. Opening it, she held it out and asked innocently, 'Anybody want a peanut?'

Their laughter was drowned out by Mr. Clever's frustrated howl. She was pretty sure they could hear it back at the castle.

Throwing in with these bandits was shaping up to be the best decision she had made since agreeing to travel with Basil.

So…yeah. Obviously Clara is nothing like Buttercup (and my apologies to anyone named Buttercup. But you have to admit, she's kind of spineless.). I'm liking where this is going, though.

I named Clara's horse for her bike – a Bonneville Scrambler, as far as I can tell – and inadvertently named her after Clara's Zygon doppelganger, as well. But hey, maybe that was their reasoning in the show, too. I've wondered how she came up with that name.

Once again, I've cast Danny as a villain. I feel horrible – he's really nice as an individual, and I love it when he's being a soldier and standing up to the Doctor's irrational and frankly annoying contempt for soldiers (my dad was in the Navy, so I'm sensitive about the military, even if it's of a different country). But I HATED him with Clara. No one shall come between me and my ship! Whouffaldi forever!

I really wanted to cast Porridge as Vizzini, but he's too nice to be Vizzini. Then I was vacillating between the Great Intelligence and Mr. Clever, but I think Mr. Clever's a better fit. But hey, I threw Porridge in there anyway. I like him!

Also, and on a completely random note, I've had an idea for another fic, on top of the three I have going now. I'm trying to resist, but it callsss to ussss….

Next up, the Cliffs of Insanity!