Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

God, she was gorgeous. 

The word alone couldn’t do her justice. He wasn’t sure that such a word had yet been conceived. 

It had been so long. His very soul ached to be so close to her. Westley almost couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her, for fear of never being able to look away. The sight of her cascading golden hair in the sunlight and her plump, pink lips viscerally took him back to that last moment he had held her. He could still feel the comforting embrace of the gentle tenderness she exuded. Her soft body pressed against his, her beautiful eyes filled with barely restrained tears as he had kissed his promises into her skin. He had been so confident, so sure of so many things. How could he not with such a purely divine creature giving him all of her love? For a moment, he could scarcely believe five excruciatingly long years had passed since he had last seen her beautiful face.

The rough blindfold helped a fair bit to ground him back into reality. That, and the dagger at her throat forcefully reminded him of why he was here. True, she wasn’t necessarily swooning in his arms yet. But for the first time in five agonizing years, he saw his prize clearly. He would never again have to settle for soothing his desperate, tortured soul with only hazy memories of her touch. 

Her scarlet dress acted like a flaming beacon to him during his climb, but to be so close . He felt every strained, exhausted step he took like a magnet bringing him inevitably closer. A wholly involuntary reaction. She had ensnared and enslaved him body and soul, and he could feel nothing but that pull . The terror-filled, sleepless nights, the tears in his muscles and the fatigue that had been building in every step he took faded to nothing more than the irritation of a buzzing gnat in her wake. 

“So, it is down to you. And it is down to me.”

Speaking of a gnat. 

So, this man was the supposed mastermind behind this woefully derailed heist? He had caught glimpses of his short stature from afar during his chase. Although it was another matter entirely to take in just how unimpressive of a man he truly was. Well, he knew more than anyone just how deceiving looks can be. Even if said threat comes in the form of an exceedingly shrill, diminutive, balding foreigner. Granted, the gleaming knife at Buttercup’s pale throat certainly spoke to his dedication. He’d need to think of something quick to eliminate this last distraction. 

“If you wish her dead, by all means, keep moving forward.”

Westley’s legs locked before he fully understood. He hadn’t even realized he was still stumbling towards her, like a moth endlessly drawn to a flame. He’d end up the same way if he didn’t focus on the task at hand. Westley highly doubted he could manage to get out of this with his charm alone, but it had worked before and he always preferred less bloodshed if he could help it. Even if this man was so cavalierly endangering all he ever cared about in this godforsaken world. 

On second thought, he knew exactly the way he wanted this to play out. He smiled disarmingly and pushed towards his goal. 

“Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen!”

Westley’s interest was piqued by this slip. Although it wasn’t exactly new information, he was intrigued as to the supposed motivations this hodgepodge band of misfits had assigned him during his, admittedly, mad pursuit. Surviving the capture and integration onto the most famous pirate ship in the known seas wasn’t easy. One couldn’t survive as long as he had without learning how to leverage everything available to his advantage. At least he now knew just how much this blustering manlet had underestimated him, and exactly how much he thought of himself. 

Splendid. His smile turned decidedly devious. Westley could certainly work with this. 

“Perhaps, an arrangement can be reached?”

“There will be no arrangement, and you’re killing her.” The man’s grip on Buttercup’s arm and her sharp inhale at the press of his knife stopped Westley dead, his smile sublimating into hard edged resolve. 

This man had just sealed his fate. Not that he had ever stood a chance once Westley discovered their plot. All he needed to do was to let him ensnare himself in his trap. Which, thankfully, the man was making it laughably easy for him to manipulate. The foreigner, Vizzini, was so appallingly blinded by his own hubris that he lept at the bait to best him in a battle of wits. Westley wrangled his glee into merely a smirk, admittedly enjoying the opportunity to sit and witness the circular and increasingly nonsensical stalling tactics. This was almost too easy. Although, to be fair, just a few short years ago even he wouldn’t have anticipated his opponent being immune to such a deadly poison. It wasn’t Vizzini’s fault that he had never stood a chance against him. 

He was infinitely more curious as to what Buttercup was making of the entire affair. Living the life of luxury he had always promised her one day. But to be kidnapped, taken across the land and sea, only to be chased down by a mysterious and monstrous man in black. Westley looked instinctively to meet her eyes, only to find that damned cloth and the ropes that bound her lovely hands. She must be terrified. He needed to wrap this up. 

Vizzini’s shout took Westley off guard, whipping around to see this new threat. It was quickly apparent that this was just one last ditch effort to outwit his inevitable demise. Westley felt like he should have been the one incapable of containing his laughter at the situation. But then again, he was a much more skilled and deadly predator now than the naive child he once was. He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the insufferably grating laughter of this horrid man abruptly ended. 

A silent second passed. Westley took measure of his own bodily reaction. He could feel his stomach revolting, more against the wine than the actual poison. A quick, quiet breath was released as he, once again, thanked Ryan for everything he had taught him, even if it was cruelly given at times. The hardest lessons often were, he had learned. 

Everything well under control, a massive weight felt like it was lifted from his entire being as he rushed over to his beloved. Finally . Seas, cliffs, giants and idiots no longer stood between him and the other half of his soul. The blindfold came undone as easily and naturally as if fate had declared its presence an offense to god. Surprisingly clear, beautiful , strong, blue eyes gazed unflinchingly back at him. He didn’t think the entire cliff face could leave him as breathless as he was at this moment. Their eyes locked for a perfect moment in time. He finally made it. He finally made it back to her. His heart tripped over itself in confusion, unresponsive to such overwhelming stimuli, then beating wildly out of control as he took in her face unencumbered.

“Who are you?” The suspicion that laced her words were like a whip flaying him apart. Of course she didn’t recognize him. Why would she? His heart screamed that she told him she loved him! That she said she would always love him and that’s why. That’s how he would always be able to recognize her, no matter the circumstance nor the ravages of time. He knew his soul would never stop yearning to be reunited with its other half. Yet—

“I am no one to be trifled with,” Westley bit out, unable to reign in the surge of bitterness. “That is all you ever need know.” After all, she had moved on, hadn’t she? She was elevated to the highest position in the land by her impending marriage to that cur, Humperdinck. He was nothing to her but the next villain who kept her from her new lover.

Detachedly, he knew he was being a bit rough untying her hands, but he could hardly withstand the whiplash of the emotional storm inside him. 

“To think, the poison was in your cup the whole time.” The soft, cautious wonder in her voice stopped him cold. Thankfully, Westley was already kneeling at her feet. Bitterness momentarily forgotten, he could have sobbed to know his memories of her hadn’t strayed. Her voice sounded even sweeter now than he remembered. To know that he hadn’t just made a fantasy in his mind, borne of some pitiful, misguided desperation. Lord knows there were days when he had his doubts. He couldn’t hold back the smile that shone through every wall he had built around himself in the past five years.

“They were both poisoned,” he whispered conspiratorially. He hardly felt capable of repressing his ego while he explained, even if he had wanted to. The constant guard he needed on his soul was starting to melt away with every second he spent basking in her radiance. The watchful eye he maintained day and night, the desperate scheming and the pure manipulations required to stay alive this long. All his mind and soul could think of for five years was what needed to be done to get him this reunion, this exact moment. Westley could feel the toll of all that ugliness he surrounded himself with falter under the achingly sweet familiarity of her soft eyes. 

Although. Buttercup’s eyes had a different glint than he remembered. A hard, hollowness that hadn’t been there before. There now was a permanent crinkle between her eyebrows as she furrowed through his story. His mind’s eye had never conjured the image of her with wrinkles before. The image of her old and grey, with laugh lines creasing her smiling face nearly overwhelmed his imaginations. 

Those startlingly blue eyes still pierced directly to the heart of him. Just like they always had. Buttercup had been the first person to truly see him. Effortlessly gazing into everything he was and would be. Everything he could be for her. She was nothing short of a divine icon that he would prostrate himself before, displaying his ambition and his flaws. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had only ever called him ‘farm boy’. 

And yet, somehow those gorgeous eyes didn’t see him now. Princess Buttercup looked straight through him. Her eyes were dead to even the threat of him now that her fleeting curiosity was satisfied. 

Her numb gaze tore him to shreds. For a moment, Westley wished that poison had killed him just as quickly and painlessly as it did Vizzini. 

Chapter Text

Westley ran faster, pushing himself harder, trying to outrun the horrible, angry bitter hurt and resentment that consumed him. He could hear Buttercup’s ragged breaths as he dragged her along, feel her rapid heartbeat in his palms. She couldn’t take much more of this pace. An unspeakably ugly voice lashed out in his mind, telling him this is what the comforts of being a princess begets.

“Catch your breath,” He grit out, throwing her hand aside. 

She stumbled and looked up at him beseechingly, “If you’ll release me.. whatever you ask for random, you’ll get it, I promise you!” 

Westley knew this plan wouldn’t be easy, but he had conveniently avoided analyzing the details. Maybe Vizzini wasn’t too far off the mark, accusing him of trying to kidnap the princess. After all, she didn’t recognize him, didn’t want him. In her mind he was just as monstrous as those idiots who stole her away the first time. He could do nothing but laugh humorlessly at his folly and her ignorance.

“And what is that worth, the promise of a woman? You’re very funny, Highness.” 

He could see how his words hit her, she straightened indignantly, “I was giving you a chance. No matter where you take me, there’s no greater hunter than Prince Humperdinck. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, he can find you!”

The gall! The absolute gall of this prince ! To have taken the only thing he knew and loved in this world and to turn her against him! His irrational anger didn’t care that she didn’t recognize him, didn’t know the depths of his devotions, didn’t know that there was no greater threat than he. 

“You think your dearest love will save you?” Westley couldn’t contain his snarl if he tried. 

“I never said he was my dearest love. And yes, he will save me. That I know.”

The certainty of her voice grated against him, but not enough that he wouldn’t pounce when he saw an opening. “You admit to me, you do not love your fiancé.”

“He knows I do not love him.”

“‘Are not capable of love’ is what you mean.” He wasn’t necessarily proud of that, but it slipped out before he could reign in his hurt. For a moment, Westley feared she would see straight through him, his emotions putting him on painful display. 

Heedless of his blunder, Buttercup stood up and faced him, challenging him, her fear melting away, “I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream!”

The shock of her words cut him to the quick, digging in and tearing him apart. After everything that had been said and done, and she was the one accusing him of ..Westley saw her flinch. He realized abruptly that his fist was raised, as if she were no more than an impudent wench, talking back and making trouble for his crew. Icy shame and dread washed over him. 

This. This is why he needed a plan. This was why he so desperately needed the walls around himself, to separate out the man he knew he was, and the man he needed to be to survive. Westley steeled his gaze. He may have gotten her away from those idiots, but they were still being chased. The Dread Pirate still had work to do.

“That was a warning, Highness . The next time, my hand flies on its own. For where I come from, there are penalties when a woman lies.”

For a moment, he could pretend. He had finally outrun his hurt and they were hand in hand, reunited at last, chasing the clouds across the sky like they used to a lifetime ago. Although, if that were actually the case, he wouldn’t be haunted with the sight of her flinching away from him. He wouldn’t be able to feel the tremble in her hands, or hear her distress turn her breath rough and fragmented as they ran. 

Westley couldn’t take much more of this. The wrongness of it plagued every step he took.  

Approaching a nearby rocky outlook, Westley released her hand, hoping she wouldn’t be able notice his hands trembling as well. “Rest, Highness.” 

Catching her breath quicker this time, she immediately rounded on him, “I know who you are—your cruelty reveals everything!”

Cautious, Westley met her resolute, icy blue gaze across the clearing. Cruelty , she says, as if she even knows what that means... No, she couldn't possibly know. The Westley she knew was never cruel. He hadn’t even learnt the meaning of the word until he was forced into fighting for his life every day under the tyrannical whimsy of a scurvy-laden madman. And now look at everything he owed that madman. What strange little quirks life decides to dole out. 

“You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts; admit it!”

Westley couldn’t help his derisive smile, bowing under the weight of the irony, “With pride! What can I do for you?”

Fury radiated from her heaving form, focusing itself into a steely determination he hadn’t seen before. “You can die slowly cut into a thousand pieces.”

Having finally wrestled his emotions under a tight reign, he simply tutted at her. He would need more than her general ire before he revealed himself to her. He needed to know everything , “Hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why loose your venom on me?”

“You killed my love,” She stated quietly, almost like she didn’t care if he heard her or not. 

His heart nearly stopped. Her love . Forcing himself to breathe, he cautiously pushed on, “It’s possible.. I kill a lot of people.” 

He detested himself for provoking her so, intentionally goading her into revealing her truths. Westley could feel the jealousy and bitterness pull at his mouth as he let his emotions bleed through his insults. But this was the only way he knew of to finally shut down every malicious whisper of doubt and every insidious insecurity he hated that he harbored. Ever since learning of her elevation to Princess by marrying that cur, he couldn’t make his heart understand. 

Now though, as Princess Buttercup, and he as the Dread Pirate Roberts, she would have no reason to lie or coddle him. He would get the unbiased truth from her, even if her answers killed him. 

A farm boy. Westley had to turn away at that, the sound of her voice, her lips lovingly shaping those words. He could remember the way they tasted when she would laugh into his kiss. Back in time when there was nothing else but him and her and all he was, was her farm boy. 

God, so much had happened, so many things had changed. And yet, that was how he had lived on in her mind. Just her farm boy. Poor and perfect. She couldn’t know how those words alone had affected him. His mask felt heavy and obstructive, the leather of his gloves stretching tightly over his fists. How he yearned for a reality in which he could have stayed in that idyllic field with her, frozen in the perfection of her memories.

She continued on, blind to everything but the pain of her reminisings. He had suspected she might not know he was alive, but to hear her tell it. A small part of him wanted to push her, interrogate her as to why she gave up so quickly, why she doubted him so. Westley didn’t know if he wanted to laugh at the confidence of her assertions or cry for the finality of it all. Because, of course, ‘ The Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners’.  

Deciding that laughing was better than crying, especially now, Westley couldn’t resist reciting one of Ryan’s favorite lines, detached and yet strangely gleeful now that it wasn’t being directed at him. God, he hadn’t been lying, it really was nothing but work, work, work all the time.  

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness!” Westley roared, the entire exchange suddenly becoming too much for him again, his own pain too close to the surface. He tried to remind himself that he set this entire situation up, not telling her anything until he was satisfied with her answers. He only had himself to blame. Standing up, he restlessly paced back and forth. 

Why was he such a fool? 

No matter. This was the opening he had been waiting for. “I remember this.. farm boy of yours. This was what, five years ago?”

A quick glance to catch her nod was all he could afford. This was his chance. It felt like everything had been building to this moment, where he could finally tell her what really happened to him during that fateful encounter. The extent of her knowledge was merely the beginning. 

Thinking back now on who he was then, he could hardly keep the disdain from coloring his voice as he described his begging. “ Please . Please, I need to live.” 

Despite everything, Westley had never regretted those words. They were the only truth he clung to. Every night, not knowing if he would wake to his own execution, the truth of those words are what kept him going. Looking at her fine clothes now, he had no trouble calling up the venom in his voice as he continued. 

“You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are.”

Westley could tell Buttercup was taking the bait, even better than he had hoped. She launched herself up to meet him, indignant, her voice shaking from the combination of his challenge and the revealed details of her beloved’s demise. “And what am I?”

He rounded on her in an instant. This was it. A horribly transparent and vulnerable feeling overwhelmed him for the first time in years, shaking down through to the core of him. He could only pray that she couldn't hear his own hurt and insecurities screaming through his accusations. “Faithfulness he talked of, madam. Your enduring faithfulness ! Now, tell me truly. When you found out he was gone, did you get engaged to your prince that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?”

“You mocked me once, never do it again-- I died that day!”

Westley could see her resolve, hear the torment in her voice, tearing through what was left of his veneer like a sledgehammer. He felt weak at her admission, like she had taken the very air he was breathing. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. He didn’t know the details behind her elevation to princess and he didn’t care. Buttercup had been nothing but a shell of her former self, lacking in the vibrancy and fierceness he knew and loved except when in defense of her love. Her farm boy. To know that he was not alone, that he was not the only one suffering these long years apart. 

A part of him vehemently protested against the taunting and manipulation to her in order to know the true extent of her pain, but another, larger part of him felt like rejoicing. He felt the tightness in his chest ease and a wave of relief crash through his exhausted muscles. She did love him. She had always loved him. 

A plume of dust rose far off in the east catching Westley’s eye. The effervescent lightness in his heart could hardly be bothered that Prince Humperdinck was actually gaining on them. It seemed like the most inconsequential thing in the world to him now. He was with his beloved again at last and knew her heart was still his. He could face their entire militia single-handedly knowing that his heart was vindicated.

A sharp shove surprised him out of his thoughts and the immediate sound of his beloved’s voice crying out.

“You can die too, for all I care!!”

His arms tried to break his fall, but the ravine was too steep. Westley tried to protect his head as his body was flung into a wild descent, limbs rebounding off of boulders and ribs bruising with every impact. With maybe his last lungful of air, his only thought was to reach out to her one last time, as himself. Nothing more or less than her farm boy. 

“As… You… Wish…!”