Waiting for Buttercup|
The Princess Bride, Rugen/Humperdinck. Silliness written for
"You seem...dare I say it...glum, Your Highness."
Humperdinck sighed a great, manly (or as close as he ever got to manly)
sigh and flung himself into another artistic pose on the velvet chaise.
"Ah, Tyrone. Yes, I am a bit glum. Or blue. Or at least a shade of blue.
Pale blue. It's ennui, I fear."
The Count inclined his head in the
tiniest gesture of cordial deference he could muster. "Not a fatal case, I
"Hardly. No, it's just all this waiting for Buttercup to be
fetched. I've nothing to occupy my mind." He sighed again, and found
another pose. "Bored, bored, bored. Can't you entertain me?"
tapped his chin thoughtfully with his glove. "Hmmm. Perhaps Your Highness
would care to observe a new form of torture I've developed?"
torture?" Humperdinck replied, with the merest hint of interest. "Do
"Well, it involves Giant Mutated Leeches, you see, and the
magnetic properties of--"
"Ugh, no." Humperdinck said, wrinkling
his nose. "Leeches are so messy." He coughed delicately. "I think you've
upset my stomach."
"Terribly sorry," Rugen murmured, but an
ungenerous observer might have noted that the corner of his mouth lifted
in something like a sadistic smile. "Let me see...ah! Would you enjoy a
brisk ride in the woods, running down peasants? I can arrange a hunt for
"No, no, I'll do that tomorrow. I'm not in the mood to leave
the castle today. I might be coming down with something." Humperdinck
dabbed at his nose petulantly. "I would think you would notice such a
"My apologies, Your Highness. May I sit?"
waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Damn it. I'd hope to be enjoying
Buttercup's bounteous goodies right about now. Alas, I shall have to
postpone my pleasure." He adjusted his codpiece in a graphic display of
lewdness. "I hope they bring her back soon. Don't know if I can hold out
much longer." He leered in Rugen's direction. "I tell you, Rugen, my
mother's beginning to look good to me!"
"Well, isn't that,
er, extraordinary. I see Your Highness requires indoor recreation."
Count Rugen sat down next to the Prince on the chaise. Honestly, Rugen
thought, inbreeding had apparently reached its zenith - or nadir - with
Prince Humperdinck. Still, for an idiot, Humperdinck had very entertaining
notions regarding torture and pleasure, notions of which he happened to
approve. I wonder... "Your Highness...?"
you'll allow me, I have an idea of how to pass the time while we wait for
your Bride to return to you." He moved closer, and placed one hand on
Humperdinck's thigh. "Trust me?"
Humperdinck blinked in surprise.
"Tyrone! I...I had no idea."
"Really? Your Highness is irresistible
to all." He smiled and leaned very close, pitching his voice into an oily
imitation of sincerity. "I thought you knew."
noisily. "Well, of course that's true. Everyone adores
"So...?" Rugen's hand slid higher. "I can show the advantage
of having six fingers..."
"Well." The Prince cleared his throat.
Somewhat later Rugen stood up and readjusted his own codpiece. He
felt quite good, and rather full of himself, in point of fact. All he
needed now was a quick round of torture down in the dungeon, and the day
would be perfection indeed. "Well, I'll be off now, shall I?"
"Rugen," the Prince muttered from where he lay. "That was
"Glad you enjoyed it."
Though, Rugen--" He rearranged himself and winced. "I'm not so sure about
that last bit. I don't think I'll go riding tomorrow after all."
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