As You Wish Chapter Four: As You Wish
This is chapter four! To start reading from the beginning, check out Chapter One: True Love
Summary:
Warlock rarely got sick, all illnesses passing him by as though he was wholly immune, but today he felt surprisingly ill. Since his parents are at work and Nanny is on her honeymoon it’s up to his Nana Agnes to stay with him. Much more interested in video games than books, he is surprised to find himself enthralled in the book she has decided to read aloud.
—
Do you not know? True love is ineffable. Death cannot stop it, only delay it for a while.
A classic tale of true love, ineffability, adventure, and miracles. You might think you know the story, but there is more to this edition of The Princess Bride than meets the eye.
Chapter Preview:
“Oh no, no please,” Warlock groaned.
“What’s the matter?” Agnes asked with a furrowed brow.
“They’re kissing again.” He grumbled. “Do we have to hear the kissing part?”
“You know, it’s not guaranteed, but someday you might not mind so much,” Agnes laughed.
Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy chapter four! 😊
Chapter Four: As You Wish
“Oh my sweet Crowley, what have I done!?” Aziraphale gasped. Quickly she threw herself down the ravine after Lucifer, who she had only just realized was her own lost love. Arriving at the bottom of the ravine, she crawled over to Crowley, whose wild copper hair had been released from the bandana tying it back. The glasses she had been wearing lay cracked and broken on the grass nearby. They reached for each other and spent a moment looking into one another’s eyes.
“Oh my dear Crowley.” Aziraphale traced a hand down the side of Crowley’s face, which was slightly older than she remembered it, but so familiar that it was a wonder she had not recognized her sooner.
“I told you that I would always come for you.” Crowley returned Aziraphale’s touch with the same gentle reverence as she always did. “Why did you not wait for me?” The devastation in her voice pulled at Aziraphale almost worse than the pain of having lost Crowley in the first place.
“You were dead, and part of me died with you.” Aziraphale whispered, a tear running down her face. Crowley wiped the tear away before continuing in a soft voice.
“My Angel, you should have had more faith. Do you not know, true love is ineffable. Death cannot stop it, only delay it for a while.”
“I will never doubt again,” Aziraphale replied breathlessly.
“There will never be a need,” Crowley murmured before leaning down and bringing their lips together in the kiss they had both spent years wondering if they would ever feel again.
—
“Oh no, no please,” Warlock groaned.
“What’s the matter?” Agnes asked with a furrowed brow.
“They’re kissing again.” He grumbled. “Do we have to hear the kissing part?”
“You know, it’s not guaranteed, but someday you might not mind so much,” Agnes laughed. “
“So Crowley is back from the dead now?” Warlock asked curiously. “How does that work? And are they a boy or a girl? Why does the book keep switching back and forth?”
“Well,” Agnes rested the book closed, marking the page they had stopped with her hand. “You know how when you were five your dad realized that they weren’t actually a man, and now she lives as a woman and uses she/they pronouns?”
“Duh, of course I do, it’s called being trans. But you said this book was, like, 300 years old. I thought that people didn’t like to talk about being trans back then.” Warlock crossed his arms.
“You’d be surprised.” Agnes smiled mysteriously. “Queer people have always existed, well before the 21st century.”
Warlock sighed and sat back, picking up the sandwich that Agnes had made for him after Crowley had defeated Maggie. Agnes took a sip of water before continuing.
“Crowley and Aziraphale raced along the ravine floor. Crowley glances up briefly and sees Prince Gabriel and his company at the top of the ravine. He smirks and looks at Aziraphale again and speaks triumphantly…”
—
“Ha! Your pig fiance is too late! A few more steps and we will be safe in the fire swamp!”
Aziraphale answered Crowley’s triumphant look with doubt. “We’ll never survive!”
“Nonsense!” Crowley insisted. “You’re only saying that because no one ever has!”
Crowley led them into the fire swamp, Aziraphale following with no small amount of both exhaustion and trepidation. The deeper they got the more tense Aziraphale became, and the more relaxation Crowley feigned.
“You know Angel, I’m kind of disappointed. This truly isn’t that bad. I’m not saying that I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, holding her sword at the ready despite her calm words, eyes alert.
“Whatever you say, my dear.” Aziraphale’s reply was amused, but internally she was still wound up. Crowley was back. She was here, in the flesh, the love she had thought long gone. And so changed. She opened her mouth to say something but was distracted by a popping sound. Suddenly there was a blazing fire before her. Shrieking, she stepped back as she realized that the hem of her skirt had caught aflame. Suddenly she was thrown to the soft ground, Crowley above her, having snuffed out the flames using his own body.
Taking a few calming breaths, she let Crowley pull her to her feet.
“Angel, are you alright?” Crowley asked carefully, checking Aziraphale over for any damages.
“I’m fine darling, my dress is a bit singed, but I’ll live. You?” she asked, stroking Crowley’s cheek softly. Crowley lent into her touch before giving her a light kiss.
“Never better. Shall we?”
They joined hands again and restarted their journey. Soon they heard another familiar set of pops, and Aziraphale was able to pick Crowley up and pull her away from the source of the flames.
“Soon this will just be a happy memory.” Crowley insisted, kissing Aziraphale on the cheek in thanks. “Lucifer’s ship Bentley is anchored at the far end, and I, as you know, am Lucifer.”
“How is that possible?” Aziraphale asked curiously. “Lucifer has been marauding for twenty years, and you are but two and twenty. As far as I can recall you spent your childhood with me, not on the seas.” Aziraphale had a wry grin on her face which Crowley returned in kind, happy to share his secret.
“I myself am often surprised by what life throws my way. You see, what I told you before about saying ‘please’ was true.” Aziraphale frowned slightly, as she remembered the pain that Crowley put her through while pretending to have killed herself as Lucifer. Before she could admonish him for it, however, there was another popping sound and he had pulled her away this time, picking her up as easily as she did him so that they might avoid the fires.
“It intrigued Lucifer, my saying ‘please’ as did my descriptions of your intelligence and beauty.” A few vines interrupted their path and Aziraphale noted with no small amount of concern that they appeared to be moving by themselves, without the aid of any breeze or animal. Crowley, unconcerned, simply used her sword to slash through them, and continued to chatter as she pulled them both forward.
“Finally, Lucifer decided something. He said ‘All right Crowley, I’ve never had a valet, you can try it for tonight, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’ For three years he said that; ‘good night Crowley, good work, sleep well, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.’ It was a relatively fine time for me— I was alive, learning to fence, to fight, new languages, anything anyone would teach me. I embraced the masculinity that you know I have always desired, and began living as a man more often than before. The only missing piece of my life was you.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale again, the love in her eyes breathtaking. She had forgotten the intensity of Crowley’s eyes, how they almost seemed to be digging deep into her soul. Breaking the eye contact, Crowley continued forward, both physically and with the story.
“Lucifer and I eventually became friends. Then it happened.”
They had come to a stop, the swamp before them was true swamp, and there was no way to get through it that wouldn’t ruin her already torn skirts beyond repair. Eying it, Crowley swept Aziraphale into her arms, and she admired how his strength seemed to have only increased over time. She caressed his face again and prompted him to continue. “Go on. What happened?”
Crowley began to navigate the area while continuing to speak. “Lucifer had grown so rich that he wanted to retire. He took me to his quarters and told me his secret. ‘I am not the Dread Pirate Lucifer,’ he said. ‘My name is David. I inherited this ship from the previous Dread Pirate Lucifer just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited from was not the Dread Pirate Lucifer either, his name was Michael. The real Lucifer has been retired for fifteen years and is living like a king in Patagonia.’ Then he explained that the name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Crowley.”
They finished crossing the pond, and Crowley set Aziraphale down to make her own way again. “So we sailed ashore, took on an entirely new crew, and he stayed aboard for a while as the first mate, all the while calling me Lucifer. Once the crew believed, he left the ship, and I have been Lucifer ever since.” Crowley paused to take Aziraphale’s hand more tightly in hers and look her in the eyes once more. “Except now we are together again. Once we escape these lands I shall retire and hand the name over to someone else. Is that all clear to you?”
Aziraphale nodded shyly, kissing Crowley on the cheek again before they began to walk. Yet suddenly Crowley’s grasp was yanked from hers, as the ground beneath Crowley began to swallow her up. Crowley’s sword was flung away as she flailed in surprise. As Crowley began to disappear Aziraphale looked around wildly before spotting one of the nearby vines, thick and sturdy. She grabbed at it quickly, slashing it with her knife before jumping into the sand herself. Due to the intent nature of her descent she was quickly able to grasp Crowley where she had fallen, and once she was sure that Crowley was secure on her shoulders she made quick work of ascending the vine. Soon they reached the air again, both coughing and gasping for air as they crawled out of the lightning sand pit.
Leaning against a tree far from the sand, Crowley retrieved her sword. They sat there quietly for a moment before Aziraphale spoke. “Do you really think we will succeed? Might we not simply end up having died here.” She lent against his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of being tucked into Crowley’s arms. “It would not be so bad to die, having finally been able to touch you again.”
“Oh Angel, can you not see? We have already succeeded.” Crowley pulled her up carefully as they began to walk once more. “What are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurts; that is no problem, the popping sound means that we can easily avoid them. Two, the lightning sand, but after I blundered into that one we know what those look like too.”
“What about the R.O.U.S.’s though?” Aziraphale asked curiously, eyes slowly growing in alarm as she noticed the figure behind Crowley.
“Rodents of Unusual Size? I don’t think they exist.” Crowley replied dismissively.
In lieu of a reply, Aziraphale pulled Crowley aside roughly as an R.O.U.S. lunged toward them. “I think you might be mistaken about that, my dear.” Another R.O.U.S. lunged for them, this time managing to knock Crowley to the ground, her sword rolling away from her. She grunted in pain as the R.O.U.S. tore at her shoulder. Aziraphale took up her dagger again and stabbed the R.O.U.S. in the skull. It fell limp and Aziraphale dragged its humongous body off of Crowley, who moaned in pain but still took her sword up when another R.O.U.S. approached. She dispatched it quickly, and the third ran off in fear.
Panting, the two lovers looked at each other and grinned. Perhaps they really could do this after all.
—
Some time later, the expanse of the Fire Swamp gave way, and the lovers found themselves in an open copse of trees. Their smiles faltered as they realized who was waiting for them. Prince Gabriel sat atop his large horse, Count Beelzebub to his right side.
“Surrender!” Prince Gabriel barked.
Aziraphale and Crowley simply blinked at him for a moment before Crowley broke out into a charming smile. “You mean that you wish to surrender to us? Very well, we accept.”
“I give you full marks for bravery— don’t make yourself a fool.” Gabriel sneered.
“Ah, but how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the Fire Swamp, and can live there quite happily for quite some time.” Crowley smirked before continuing. “So, whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit.” He winked at Gabriel before his eyes darted to Aziraphale in concern.
“I tell you once again— surrender!” Gabriel shouted. Something about the way that Crowley was smirking and the glare of his golden eyes was irritatingly familiar in a way that he could not place, which only increased his anger.
“It will not happen!” Crowley spit back. Aziraphale looked around in concern, as she began to notice that they were not alone with the Prince and the Count. Surrounding them were more soldiers, some with bows aimed directly at Crowley’s heart. Her throat seized up as she prepared to pierce his heart another way.
“FOR THE LAST TIME— SURRENDER!”
“DEATH FIRST!” Crowley roared back. Aziraphale pushed Crowley to the side, standing in front of him such that any arrows that came would hit her first.
“Will you promise not to hurt him?” Aziraphale asked harshly, glaring into Gabriel’s eyes. The Prince was taken aback, never having seen Aziraphale with this much life in her.
“What was that?” both Gabriel and Crowley asked her, confused.
“If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this man?” She looked at Gabriel steadily, squeezing Crowley’s hand in hers.
“May I live a thousand years, and never hunt again.” Gabriel’s smile was completely ingenuine, but Aziraphale had turned to Crowley, who was looking at her in confused hurt. Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek briefly before turning to Gabriel again.
“He is a sailor on the pirate ship Bentley. Promise to return him to his ship!” Aziraphale told Gabriel firmly.
“I swear it will be done.” Gabriel replied, the same saccharine grin on his face.
Aziraphale held back a tear as she raised a careful hand to Crowley’s face again. Gabriel was completely gone from her attention as he whispered to Count Beelzebub. “Once we are out of sight, take him back to Florin and throw him in the Pit of Despair.”
“I swear it will be done.” Beelzebub smirked.
Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s waist tightly.
“Angel…”
“I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again, not when I could save you.” Aziraphale whispered, leaning her forehead against Crowley’s.
“But we could have been an us.” Crowley insisted.
“Who says we still cannot?” Aziraphale whispered carefully in his ear. “Come find me.”
Aziraphale was yanked away, swept up onto Gabriel’s horse, and Crowley too dazed to say anything but “ngk.”
Meanwhile, Count Beelzebub remained seated on their horse as the soldiers brought Crowley forward.
“Come sir. We must get you to your ship.” Beelzebub’s tone was amused, and not a small amount predatorial.
“Ah, but we are men of action. Lies do not become us.” Crowley responded with a teasing, yet firm lilt. Neither he nor the Count were what one might consider the traditional ‘man’ but that was neither here nor there.
“Well spoken, sir—” Beelzebub paused as the smile on Crowley’s face became just a bit too knowing. “What is it?” they snapped.
“You have six fingers on your right hand.” Crowley replied, clearly amused. “Someone was looking for you.”
Before he was able to say anything else, Crowley was hit with the hilt of the Count’s sword, and everything went black.