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elynross and astolat organized yuletide Madness 2010. I wrote a treat for , who requested a The Princess Bride fic.

Title: Overloaded Peonies
Author: voleuse
Fandom: The Princess Bride
Characters: Buttercup/Westley, Inigo, Fezzik
Rating: PG
Summary: Why should we care that we're common?
Notes: Post-movie.



Inigo led them to a ramshackle cottage near the edge of the slums. He wanted to go on, and so did Westley, but Buttercup stared hard at the ashy tone of his skin. She drew closer to him, even as he protested her concern.

"Buttercup?" Westley asked, but his voice was soft. She touched Inigo's belly and sniffed the air around him. "Just blood," she noted abstractly. Then she looked at Westley, a bit lost. "There is a moss that would stop the bleeding, but I never learned the name."

He nodded, and she watched his attention flicker backwards, as if he was paging through a book. "A dark bluish-green?"

"Yes," she said. "It's a little slimy."

Westley nodded again, retreating from Inigo's cot. "I'll confer with Fezzik."

Buttercup watched him leave, then turned to find Inigo watching her, a surprised smile on his face.

"I didn't just brush my hair on the farm," she pointed out.

"I would never presume you did," Inigo said. He coughed, and she hastened to fetch a cup of water.

*


The patrols swept past them for three days. Fezzik helped Buttercup stain her hair with berries, draping her in a patchwork scarf he said belonged to his mother. "You are very beautiful," Fezzik told her.

"Just like your mother," Buttercup replied.

"She was," Fezzik said. "Her hair was dark like mud."

"Mud is often quite lovely," Buttercup noted.

Passing by, Westley kissed the tip of her purply-brown ear, and Buttercup laughed as Fezzik blushed.

*


On the fourth day, Westley found Buttercup in the kitchen, watching Fezzik brew a pot of truly disgusting-smelling tea for the increasingly-fractious and bedridden Inigo. He brushed his hand against the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing briefly behind her ear.

"Fezzik is teaching me how to cook," she breathed. "It doesn't seem as difficult as I thought."

Westley waited until Fezzik turned before he dropped a kiss against Buttercup's lips. She blinked up slowly at him and smiled.

"I'm sorry I stole you away from the comforts of the palace," he murmured. "If Humperdinck hadn't truly been a villain of the blackest heart and intentions, I would have let you linger there a while longer."

"Until I was married?" Buttercup asked.

"Until I could offer you more," his gesture swept the room, "luxurious surroundings. I'm quite confident in your ability to postpone the inevitable."

"This is nice," Buttercup said. "I could be perfectly happy living like this forever."

Westley leaned a trifle closer, raising an insinuating eyebrow. "Perfectly happy?"

Buttercup bit her lip, and she liked the way he stared at her nibbling. "Perhaps a bit more privacy would be nice."

"Soon, darling," Westley promised. "Honestly, I don't think I could stand," he cleared his throat, "you know, much longer."

"We need carrots," Fezzik declared, a ladle spattering the floor as he turned. "Westley, get carrots and a chicken."

"Of course," Westley said, nodding to Fezzik with a smile. He bowed more deeply to Buttercup. "As you wish," he whispered, and she giggled as she pushed him away.


###

A/N: Title and summary adapted from Shisa Poet's Short Poem in Praise. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.

Originally posted here.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
ancarett
Jan. 2nd, 2011 03:40 am (UTC)
Sweet and satisfying for the core of reality in their words and actions!
dotfic
Jan. 2nd, 2011 03:10 pm (UTC)
Sweet and very real all at the same time, and I love that Buttercup knows stuff.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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