Disclaimer: I don't own The Princess Bride, or Arrow, or any of the Arrowverse.

Malcolm as Prince Humperdink just made sense, but even in this context, the idea of Malcolm and Laurel 'marrying'... yeah, no. So Tommy is the one Laurel is supposed to marry (of course, this *is* the Princess Bride), but Malcolm has all the other aspects of Humperdink.

The Canary Bride

By Kylia

Chapter 2: The Prince's Bride

Starring

Malcolm Merlyn (and Tommy Merlyn) as "Prince Humperdink"

Eobard Thawne as "Count Rugen"

Damien Darhk as "Vizzini"

Barry Allen as "Inigo Montoya"

Ray Palmer as "Fezzick"

For five long years, Laurel continued as she swore, never loving again, dedicating herself to her cause, fighting bandits and brigands with fist and staff, and fighting rapacious landlords and nobles with word and law. But as Starling's five hundredth anniversary as an independent Kingdom drew close, the people of the Kingdom's capital gathered in the Royal Square in front of Merlyn Castle, where Prince Malcolm, regent for his ailing and senile father, had an announcement to make.

Everyone assumed it would be an announcement of the bride of his own son, Thomas. And indeed, it would be.

Trumpets sounded from both sides of the square as Malcolm stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the square, flanked by his son Thomas on one side, and Count Eobard Wells on the other, other assorted nobles and hangers on behind them. The square itself was packed with the common people, all craning to get a look at their prince, murmuring to eachother. There were many who had sought the hand of Thomas, other nobles from near and far, and of course Prince Malcolm would only pick the best for his only son.

It was such a tragic thing that had happened to his wife all those years ago, when Thomas was but a child, and how it had been so noble of Malcolm to never marry again, even if it had meant pinning the succession on just Thomas alone...

There was a cheer from the crowd as Malcolm, clad in finery made of black lined with gold-embroidery, stepped forward to speak, and he held out a hand, lowering it gently, and the crowd slowly quieted so he could speak.

"My people!" He called out, "A month from now, our great and glorious Kingdom will have it's five-hundredth anniversary. And on that day, there will be another joy for us all to celebrate - the wedding of my son to his bride, the woman who will, one day, become your Queen." There were more cheers, and Malcolm held out and lowered his hand again after another few moments to allow the people to get their exuberance out. He looked over to his son, smirking, then grimaced for just a moment as he saw how stiffly and uncomfortably Thomas was standing.

"Smile," he said quietly out of the side of his mouth, barely moving his lips. Thomas swallowed and forced a well-practiced smile onto his lips. Malcolm raised his voice again as the crowd finally went quiet again.

"She is a woman who was once a commoner like yourselves - for is Starling's greatest strength not her people? But perhaps, there are things that make her... less than common, as you will see." Malcolm continued, raising his voice again, projecting well across the square. He raised his voice even louder.

"Would you like to meet her?" The cheers now were the loudest yet, and Malcolm gestured to the gates of the castle, which swung open, a red carpet quickly rolled out by a small army of servants, followed by more who cast flower petals on the carpet, and then finally, wearing a flowing dress of pink and gold, came Laurel. "My people: The Princess Laurel!"

Laurel looked up at the Balcony, her expression schooled into careful neutrality, and then she looked back to the crowd, the people closest beginning to bow, starting a wave of bowing that rippled across the entire square.

As she walked across that carpet further into the square, Laurel's heart was empty, and that emptiness threatened to consume her. She had no desire to marry Prince Thomas, but the law of the land gave Malcolm the right to choose his son's bride, and Laurel could not fight an entire Kingdom on her own.

But she did not, could not love Thomas, and never would.

Laurel had tried again and again to refuse, convince Malcolm that she was not fit to be Queen, did not want to be Queen, that surely Thomas would be better suited with a woman he loved and who loved him, or who at least could one day love him.

'Nonsense,' Malcolm had claimed. 'Who better for my son than the most beautiful and beloved woman in the Kingdom? The people love you for your efforts against bandits and corrupt landlords. You are a good and lovely woman, and you will make a wonderful Queen someday'. Laurel had tried to protest more anyway, but -

To no avail.

Laurel was no longer given the chance to fight brigands and bandits, and though she was still able to combat the landlords in the courts, she had very few opportunities to, now that her marriage was impending.

Despite Thomas's efforts to make her as comfortable with this marriage as he could, and his earnest desire for them both to be as happy with this situation as they could, the only happiness in her life she could find was on her daily rides, when she could be alone, and remember Oliver. Malcolm always tried to make her take guards with her, but she always outrode them.

I'm so sorry Oliver. She had sworn on his memory to never love again, and she hadn't. She wouldn't. But though she did not and could not love Thomas, she was going to marry him, and that was a dishonor to Oliver's memory, and the memory of their love, that she could not bear, and yet, she had no choice.

The trees of the King's Forest loomed overhead, the leaves of autumn coloring many of the leaves left, while a thin coating of dried, red and brown leaves coated the floor of the forest, crunching on her horse's hooves as she rode. Up ahead, she saw three people standing by the path. Few were allowed in the King's Forest on their own, and these men were not clothed in the garb of Royal Foresters.

Though she had little concern for protecting the King's rights to this vast woodland, which could be put to better use by the common people, allowing them to hunt and forage for food, and collect firewood, she was curious, and she directed her horse towards them, drawing up short.

The three men were an odd and unusual collection. One was a man wearing a black cloak and robes with padded and broadened shoulders, his hair pure white, though he looked to be the same age as Malcolm, no more. He had an air of thin menace about him, and Laurel found herself bracing.

The next was a lanky, tall man, wearing a red leather vest over a shirt, and dark red pants, a sword at his belt - not just any sword, but a rapier with a finely made handle with small jewels inset in it. He had brown hair.

The last was a man wearing some strange suit of armor, red and dark gray, of metals she could not identify. He was tall, taller than even the man with the sword, taller than Oliver had been - she was on a horse, and he was very nearly eye to eye with her. A helmet covered his face, save for an open space for his eyes, nose and mouth.

"What men are you, to venture into the King's Forest?" Laurel asked, no accusation in her tone. She tightened her grip around the reins of her horse, wishing she had her staff with which to fight if it came to it.

But she could outride them, if she had to.

"We are but poor, lost circus performers," the man with white hair said, gesturing to his companion. "I am a magician, performing tricks for entertainment. My friend here is an artist with his blade," he pointed to the lanky man "and this one here has strength beyond peer to go with his impressive size." It sounded reasonable, but though Laurel could not pick up any lie from the leader, if that was who he was, she still felt sure there was more to it, and more to him.

"Is there a village, or town nearby?" He added. "As I said we're... well... lost." He chuckled softly, as if he'd made some sort of clever joke. "We can only earn our bread when we have an audience to perform to."

"Unfortunately, there is nothing nearby." She had ridden far into the Forest, and the King's forest wasn't near the capital anyway. Even with the coast only a few miles from here, there weren't even fishing villages.

"That is very unfortunate indeed." The man said, not sounding remotely upset. "Unfortunate for you that there will be no one to hear you scream." Even as he said that last part, the tall man and the lanky man were both moving towards her - almost too fast for her eye to see, the lanky man had moved to her horse and grabbed onto the reins, pulling them from her grip, as the tall man reached for her neck.

Laurel, shaking off the surprise at the lanky man's speed that had given him the opening to grab the reins, jumped off the horse and raised her fists, punching at the tall man as he tried to grab her - she caught a fist right into the center mass on his chest - and it accomplished nearly nothing, the man not reacting, not even doing more than stepping back a pace.

"That was a good punch," the tall man praised her, grabbing her wrist and holding it tight. Laurel tried to pull it free, but to no avail - she lashed out with her leg, catching the lanky man, sweeping his legs out from under him and making him fall flat on his ass as he tried to grab her other wrist.

"Ray, stop toying with her and knock her out," the white-haired man said. The tall man - Ray - shook his head.

"I'm not playing with her, she's good." He was trying to pull her around and grab at her other arm, but Laurel was managing to twist herself out of his reach, just barely - with as much height as he had on her, his arm length was longer.

"Your praise means so much to me," Laurel snapped, kicking at Ray's legs. She was actually managing to get some response there, and he grunted, the leg sliding back in the dirt, but she couldn't get her wrist free from his grip.

"Oh, Ray isn't being patronizing." The lanky man got back onto his feet and pulled out his sword. "Most people wouldn't have been able to even hit him, let alone not get knocked out by now." He thrust his sword at her carefully, missing her by just an inch as she tried to pull out of the way of it -

And then she got too close to Ray and he grabbed her other wrist. Laurel kicked at his legs again.

"I'm sorry about this," Ray commented, and then brought her own hands to smash against the sides of her head.

Laurel saw stars as he let go of her, and she was swaying and staggering back, the strength behind the man's blows far more than she was used to, especially a bit out of practice as she was - he grabbed her by the throat as she stumbled, and tightened. Laurel tried - and failed - to claw his hand off, kicking again, but everything quickly went black as she felt unconsciousness approaching.

The three men - Damien, Barry Allen and Ray - were not acting on their own, having been hired by a mysterious party to kidnap the soon to be Princess Laurel, and take her to the Kingdom of the Glades. With Laurel now unconscious, Ray put her on her horse and led the horse to the coast, where a small smuggler's dock was set up, a small one-mast ship waiting to take them across the sea, to the Glades.

"Load her up onto the ship, and leave the horse here with me," Damien ordered Ray. "Barry, raise the anchor, and get the ship ready to sail." Damien reached into his pack and pulled out a piece of red velvet fabric, the seal of the Glades sewn into it. He looked the horse over, and ripped at the seal, tearing the fabric.

"What's that you're ripping?" Barry asked, looking over from where he was raising the sail.

"Fabric from the uniform of an officer of the Glades Army." he let some of the fabric catch on the one of the bits of metal on the horse's saddle and pulled, letting part of the uniform, especially that all important seal, tear away, staying on the saddle.

Whacking the back of the horse hard, Damien watched it speed off. It was well-trained, and it would head in the direction of home, and be found.

"When Prince Malcolm sees it, he'll be sure his son's betrothed was kidnapped by the Glades, he'll be furious." He approached the ship. "And then, when he finds her, dead on the fronter with a Gladian arrow in her chest, his suspicions will be confirmed." Damien got onto the ship, untying the rope holding the boat to the dock.

Ray blinked, looking up from where he'd put Laurel, hands tied behind her back, and her legs too - no need to let her start kicking again.

"You didn't say we'd be killing the girl," Ray demanded.

"Oh, you're squeamish about that? I've hired you to help me start a war. It's a prestigious undertaking, and a long and glorious tradition. When we're done with this, a lot more people than her will be dying. But you both knew that." Damien pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Barry and Ray both looked at eachother, grimacing, knowing he was right. That a war was the plan was something they'd known from the start. Still. There was a difference between this... and the people who would die in a war.

"She's innocent. We shouldn't be killing her." Ray protested, keeping his voice calm to prevent Damien from flying off the handle at the disagreement.

Damien laughed, "I must be going mad, because I thought I heard you disagreeing with me, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" He grinned, but there was nothing nice or joyful about his grin, and Ray stepped back, legs knocking against the edge of the ship. "I didn't hire you to speak up when a guilty conscience got the better of you, or for your sense of tactics. This is the way to do the job and get paid!"

"I agree with Ray," Barry cut in, grabbing a long stick and pushing the boat off from the docks.

"Oh, yes, let's hear from the fencer!" Damien threw up his hands, as if surrendering the point. "What happens to her isn't your concern. I'll kill her. But as for you - remember this, never forget this. When I found you,, you were such a paranoid, crazy drunk, you refused to buy brandy!" Damien got in his face, nearly grabbing it with his outstretched hand, and then turned, quickly, sneering at Ray.

"And you: friendless, wifeless, moneyless, hopeless." With each word he took one step closer to Ray, and then Damien was in front of him, pointing at him, poking him in the chest with his finger. "Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Failing to get your property back from Smoak?!"

Ray looked away, trying not to flinch at the mention of his former wife, or the way she'd robbed him of nearly everything he'd ever tried to build. Damien went over to the edge of the ship, muttering under his breath about the two of them being useless, but that at least was familiar territory.

Barry walked over to Ray as the ship started to drift with the wind and current out to sea, slowly. Ray turned the wheel to keep the ship on course.

"Damien is an ass," Barry murmured quietly. "Bringing her up?" Barry shook his head. "Like I said: ass."

"Maybe, but at least he's not very crass." Ray countered, and Barry grinned. If there was one way to annoy the crap out of Damien, it was rhyming. And Ray was very good at it.

"And, I suppose he doesn't scream until he's red in the face." Barry allowed, raising an eyebrow at Ray.

"When it comes to our jobs, I feel like he's more in it for the chase." Ray gave back easily. Barry laughed softly.

"You're very good at rhyming."

"Only when I have the right timing."

"Okay, that's enough, both of you!" Damien snapped, the wind picking up slightly as they got further away from the shore, getting out of the little bay their ship had berthed in.

"I suppose we do what we have to." Ray mused, sighing.

"There is that... I wonder - do you think there will be rocks ahead?" Barry asked, watching Damien twitch out of the corner of his eye.

"If there are, we'll all be dead." Ray shrugged.

"No more rhymes now, I mean it!" Damien insisted, actually stomping his foot onto the ship's deck.

"Anybody want a peanut?"

Damien screamed with frustration as the ship continued to sail toward the horizon.