Buttercup's Interlude 😈🖤✖️☠️🕷⛧🕸🔗🥀⚰️

Chapter 2 🖤

AN: suggested listening is once again, Maddie's playlist. Or, if you're feeling quirked up, "Emperor's New Clothes" by Panic! At the Disco.

Before Buttercup returned to the court of Prince Humperdinck, she allowed herself a night's rest on the outskirts of Florin city, much avoided. She knew what was held deep in her heart and harbored in her dreams. Westley's face was unavoidable.

Buttercup was filled with nostalgia, seeing her farm boy at work in her subconscious. How she missed the warm, orange days gazing at him, ordering him. Even if she had kept her distance for the most time, at least he was there. Hers. Westley was never cursory when it came to the tasks she placed at his feet. He was meticulous, a bit of a perfectionist, even - scrutinizing every small action to make sure that it was done wonderfully for the lady, as she wished. And when he was finished, he would wait for the next task to come.

"Farm Boy," Buttercup said to him, when he had completed his last chore. "I want you to stay with me forever, and never leave me."

The ever ethereal Westley, perfected in her mind, smiled back at her benevolently: "As you wish."

And with this answer, Buttercup was pleased for a minute, but still ultimately unsatisfied.

"I need you to promise me, Westley. You'll never leave me for another, and never make vows with another. You'll love me always. You'll always come back for me."

"As you wish," Westley replied. And that was all he said. In his eyes, Buttercup could see him ask when had he ever not done her will thoroughly, and the answer was never, for her Farm Boy had always been faithful.

That was why she had never expected the duplicity of his affections - she had assumed she was his true love, his only love. And she was not wrong, for Westley would never be dishonest or unfaithful. He was too good a man to do such.

Her dream took a violent shift, returning her to the top of the Cliffs of Insanity. She stood chilled in the dark twilight wind, holding a sword in hand. She inhaled sharply, seeing the two men on the terrain across from her. The Spaniard held his arm out, shielding Westley from her. An intimation of belligerence glinted in his narrowed eyes. He took a couple slow steps forward.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You called me a poopy butt. Prepare to die."

Buttercup giggled, in disbelief, and Inigo charged at her. Eyes wide, she screamed. The last thing she saw was Westley far away, impervious to the events surrounding him. His face was lax, not uncaring, but distant and unaffected - in a haze. Untouched.

Buttercup jolted up, still screaming when she awoke. The cool, dewy blades of grass beneath her poked her back into the reality of yesterday. She sat for a minute, taking deep breaths of the morning air to calm her racing heart and to plan for the day. Was it even feasible that Prince Humperdinck would help her execute a plan of revenge? Returning into the gates of Florin city could place her life in jeopardy, had he already declared her a criminal, or dead.

She grimaced at the thought of Prince Humperdinck. What a disgusting, sad excuse for a man. At least he was good at hunting and plotting, and such. If not, he would be a sure and sorry waste.

When Buttercup had trekked to the castle and snuck her way into her room, she was rather shocked to find the prince still tied to the chair. 

Prince Humperdinck shot her a criminal offensive bombastic side eye. "Welcome back, my darling."

"Your queen," Buttercup said, taking a seat on the bed across from Humperdinck. Is he the king? Like... forget his dad. Guilder is definitely plotting against him or something.

Buttercup knew at this point that anything she suggested, Humperdinck would present averse to. She contemplated extolling him, flattering her way back into his heart, but she remembered that she was never his. He had never loved her, and especially not the way Westley had. She was just the queen in his political game of chess.

And the queen was the most powerful piece.

"Are you not pleased to see your wife alive and well, having had survived Guilder's attack?" Buttercup asked innocently, crossing her legs and blinking.

Of sighs throughout history, there were none as exasperated and dramatized as Prince Humperdinck's in that very breath. He gazed at her tepidly, mostly uninterested in her presence and words.

"How are you going to spin this story around? Or have you not gotten far enough for that, seeing as you are still tied into that chair?"

Humperdinck looked down at the ropes that he as a hunter could easily undo, and then looked back up at Buttercup. "What do you suggest I do, princess?"

Trying to appear more amicable, Buttercup untied the knots, saying, "Westley, my love, has left me. Your murder plot has clearly flunked. Neither of us has succeeded in our goals. I believe that we can help each other. You will help me bring Westley back, and I will help you start a war with Guilder. I propose this: that the Dread Pirate Roberts had been employed by Guilder the entire time, and he came here to kidnap me, kill me, before you found him out. I only ask that you do not kill me, or my Westley.

"And if you are wondering, 'What's in it for me?' I shall tell you. You cannot set your plot in motion without a queen. I am alive, so you cannot say Guilder killed me. Without my cooperation, your accusations against Guilder are meaningless. You have nothing to lose except an opportunity to off my lover and I."

And so, Humperdinck and his wife got to work in plotting against Guilder and capturing Westley. Each promise was made with crossed fingers behind the back, but neither cared, preferring to drown in the obsession of their ambitions.