Work Text:
“True love! You heard him! You could not ask for a more noble cause than that.”
-The Princess Bride, 1987
Beatrice can hear the arguing from the back room, and she sets down the nightdress she had been folding for Hero's wedding gift. It might have been wiser to keep it at the castle, but the fumes from Benedick's brewing keeps fabric soft and ushers in sweet dreams. The princess will be needing them more now than ever.
"She obviously said true love," an unfamiliar voice shouts, and Beatrice sighs. Of course an unruly customer had to come today. She sets the dress down and strides to the common room.
"There's no such thing as true love," Benedick snaps. "It's like olives. Look, I can explain it some other time. The point is, this girl is past her expiration date."
"She is the true love of Princess Hero," another person protests. "If you heal her, they can protest Claudio's rule. They can bring him down."
Beatrice freezes. The true love of Princess Hero. She knows what has kept the princess up these past two weeks, staring out into the stars. She has heard rumours of messengers in pursuit of an adventuring princess or a pirate, on a desperate mission to find her before the royal wedding. Would this princess not be far away, if she had no interest in returning to her love?
"Don't speak that name in my presence," Benedick snaps.
Beatrice steps into the room, taking in the contents quickly. Three men: her husband and two strangers, one small and carrying a lyre. A dark-haired girl, completely inert on the new dining table. Her chest is still.
"What in God's name is this, Benedick?" she snaps. "The olive metaphor, again?"
"They're offering me four gold pieces to bring a girl to life. We need to make a living, too!"
"You are married to a Lady, you blockhead.” She takes another look at the Guilderan princess. “And this is no mere girl. This is Princess Ursula of Guilder."
The smaller one interjects. "She wishes to bring down Claudio," he says, and Ben almost screams.
"Stop it with that name!"
"Claudio!" Beatrice shouts, more furious than she has ever been with Benedick. "Claudio, Claudio, Claudio!"
"I can't hear you!" Ben retorts. "I can't hear you over the sound of my intense fury and Floyd's reassurances."
"Floyd is a dead bird! Ursula has time yet! Claudio, Claudio, Claudio!"
The young couple who brought the dead girl in shift uncomfortably beside her, but she ignores them. Gathering up her skirts, she pursues Ben around the room. "Claudio, Benedick! Claudio, who will marry this girl's love. Claudio, who will rule the kingdom legitimately by tonight. Claudio, Claudio, Claudio!"
"It's a lost cause, my vivacious love," he protests, scrambling away. "She's further gone than most I've treated. What's the point? Certainly not the gold, with these two."
"Revenge on Claudio," she insists, and sees his resolve waver. "Reunification of young love."
Benedick groans. "Fine," he snaps. "But only for the revenge."
Beatrice grins, turning back to the girl's still form. One of the men, the smaller one, is smoothing back her hair while the other looks on worriedly. Her smile slips as she takes a closer look at the girl. Benedick was right about the chances of survival, at least.
"You are certain this is her, the love of Princess Hero?" she asks.
The small one nods. "You can save her, can you not?"
"Of course!" Ben assures him loudly from the cabinet. "I am the miracle worker!"
Beatrice shrugs, chest tight. She won't lie to them or exaggerate her husband's talents. He may be magic, but he is not infallible. "There's more chance of surviving than leaving her to rot," she says. "It isn't always successful." This could be the best news for Hero in months or the worst.
The three of them stand around the body as Benedick stirs less-than-savoury ingredients into his cauldron. After a few tense moments, the taller one pulls the other into his side. Beatrice looks away, checking on Benedick's progress.
“So what happened?” Benedick asks as he stirs. “There’s no visible wounding.”
The taller one shrugs helplessly. “Some sort of torture device. Looming. Lots of knobs and handles. There were books filled with notes on the past few weeks.”
“So she never left at all?” Beatrice asks. “Claudio just kept her here, deceiving the princess all this time.”
“So it seems.”
“I will kill him myself,” she pledges, Hero’s sleepless nights and tear-soaked pillows fresh in her memory. Benedick snorts.
When the potion is finished, Benedick is the one to pour it down the dead girl's throat, nostrils pinch shut. Twenty seconds pass. A minute. Sixteen eyes are fixed on the battered form of Princess Ursula of Guilder, waiting for any sign of life.
When the bells toll the second hour and there is none, Beatrice turns her face away. Traitorous tears prick at her eyes.
"Damnit," Ben mutters, pushing away from the table. "Damnit all to hell."
Beatrice wipes her eyes with the hem of her gown. "I need to help Hero prepare for the wedding," she says. "Oh, by all the saints... I have to tell her." Ursula still does not move, dead as can be.
"Surely there is something you can do," the taller man demands. "She can't just be dead."
"She was dead before you walked in here," Beatrice reminds him harshly, and they both flinch. She takes a steadying breath. "Our methods have never been completely reliable. Now if you will excuse me, the princess is to be married in four hours. I need to tell her of this day’s tragedy and still have her presentable by her vows.” Pressing her lips together, she walks out of the room. Her throat clenches, and she curses her reactions. She never even knew the girl.
Still, the princess knew her, and loved her with all of her heart. If nothing else, that gives her cause to mourn a life snuffed too soon. The princess, who has been reading tomes on the most effective poisons. The princess, who would not even harm the most evil man in her kingdom.
Determinedly, she gathers up the wedding gift and places it in a basket, smoothing away her tears and clearing her throat. Life does not always have the fairytale endings the bards sing of. Sometimes the princess marries the invader because her love is dead and there is no other choice. Sometimes there are worse endings.
When she walks through the common area, the strangers are arguing quietly over the corpse. Benedick is muttering over his herbs. They’ll need to bury the body soon, but that is not her issue. She will tell the princess of the location of the grave after the wedding.
Shutting the door behind her, Beatrice takes another deep breath. The castle is just a few minutes walk away, and the fresh air will do her good. Perhaps she will know how to tell the princess that her love is lying dead on her Lady-in-Waiting’s kitchen table. Perhaps she will find some miraculous way to deliver terrible news so that the emotional scarring is not as devastating.
No, that is ridiculous. She has never been the magic one. Nor could magic save the princess’ love. If this day were to prove anything, with the princess about to marry the invader of her kingdom and her love dead past a magician’s assistance, it would be that miracles simply do not exist.