stay calm. it will be okay. you have my word. Episode Thirteen: Soon May the Wellerman Come
This is episode thirteen! To start reading from the beginning, check out Pilot : The Season Two Ending We Deserved
Story Summary
Turn off “The Reality War” at 40:15 and start here instead. This is the story of what happened after—the story where the Doctor, Bel, and their extraordinary daughter Poppy get to live the life they deserve.
It’s about finding family across time and space. It’s the Doctor and Bel co-parenting like the besties they are, Poppy growing up splitting her time between 21st-century London and the far-future of the Preservation Alliance, and a Sanctuary Moon fanclub that spans across the universe. It’s Rogue getting the ending he deserves, Jenny finding her fathers, Murderbot reluctantly acquiring more humans, and a universe where love, in all its forms, is the most powerful weapon we have.
This is a fusion-fix-it full of gratuitous wish fulfillment, because sometimes the best way to heal is to rewrite the story. 💕💕
Episode Summary:
When a frantic SOS from an old friend interrupts their plans for a spa retreat, the Doctor, Rose, and Bel wind up on a 17th-century pirate ship to find Fezzik, Westley, and Buttercup captured.
Notes:
This is definitely a filler episode that adds like, very little value to the plot but I think it’s fun and so I’m keeping it. Let’s get ready for some PIRATES.
Once again, thanks so much to everyone who has left comments and kudos, and special thanks to Fire_Phoenix2305 and tinysugacube for tolerating me blowing up the group chat on a daily basis as I come up with ideas for this fic, and to Marvin for his seal of approval!
Episode Thirteen: Soon May the Wellerman Come
The universe, the Doctor knew, was a tapestry woven in impossible and improbable ways, each strand capable of immense potential. He never knew what to expect when stepping outside the doors of the TARDIS, every day and every moment poised for a new adventure. Today it was just him and Bel, on a short vacation while Poppy was off on her first solo survey trip. Well, not solo. Amena was there, as was her uncle Thiago, and, of course, SecUnit, who was more than capable of watching out for them. And it wasn’t exactly just him and Bel, even though it was supposed to be — Rose was there too, but only because she was hitching a ride back to Earth before the Doctor and Bel headed to a spa retreat they had scheduled. That was before the TARDIS received a faint, frantic, temporal SOS, and from a familiar source.
The Doctor quickly changed the route from 21st Century Britain to the seas of Florin in the 17th Century, where some old friends were calling for help. The TARDIS materialized into the hold of a wooden, tar-scented, galleon.
“Have you been here before, Doctor?” Bel asked. “That SOS was targeted.”
“Not here specifically, but it came from friends.” The Doctor smiled. “Come on, Bel, pirates!”
“Pirates who send SOS signals through time?” Bel raised her eyebrow.
“Old friends,” Rose smiled. “I think we told you about them before.”
There was a thunder of boots from above—shouts, the clash of steel, and a cold voice cutting through the chaos like a cold razor. “Throw them in the hold while we wait for the Prince.”
The door burst open as two figures were unceremoniously thrown down the steps, landing in a heap together. A third, a mountain of a man with a heartbroken face, was shoved in after them. The door slammed and locked.
The first figure, a woman in a butter-yellow gown, sat up, her face a mask of furious dignity. “You will not get away with this,” she shouted.
The second, a young man in dark clothes, winced as he stood up, favoring one leg. There was a large gash on one arm, and another cut on his forehead. “Buttercup, my love, I doubt bravado will serve us well here.”
“Hello,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “It’s good to see you, Buttercup, Westley, Fezzik. Though I suppose the circumstances could be better.”
“Doctor!” Fezzik grinned brilliantly. “You came! And Rosie too.”
“Of course we came.” The Doctor smiled. “I did not give you the beacon as a simple trinket. What happened?”
“We were ambushed while visiting the mainland for supplies. They plan to deliver us to the Prince. I knew we should have killed him,” Westley explained, his tone weary. “I expect Inigo is close behind. How have you been, Doctor, Rose? And who is this?” He smiled at Bel.
“This is my wife, Belinda,” the Doctor grinned. “She was busy last we met. We’ll figure out what to do about Humperdinck in a bit, hopefully without killing him. In the meantime, let’s head into the TARDIS before your captors get back. Bel and I can take a look at those wounds.” The Doctor ushered everyone into the TARDIS, after which he immediately relocated to the hold on the Revenge. It scared the hell out of some of the newer crew, who had never met the Doctor, but Inigo—the current Roberts—simply waved it away as typical. He joined them in the TARDIS medical bay as everyone’s wounds were tended to, and they came up with a strategy for defeating Humperdinck once and for all.
In the end it turned out to be quite simple—or, at least, simple for the Doctor. He waited until nightfall, when the Prince was in bed and asleep, and used a spare vortex manipulator to appear directly in Humperdinck’s room. He lit the candle beside the bed and sat down on the edge, poking Humperdinck on the side. The Prince woke with a shout, only to still when the Doctor held a sword to his throat.
“Hi there, Humperdinck,” the Doctor greeted cheerfully, as though this was a casual meeting of friends rather than waking an enemy up in the middle of the night and holding them at swordpoint. “So I noticed that you put a hit out on some of my friends. I don’t like that.”
Humperdinck narrowed his eyes. “You’re the man who interrupted my wedding.”
“If you want to call it that, sure.” The Doctor shrugged. “I was a bit busy that day, forgot to follow up and make sure you behaved. My mistake, one I won’t make again.”
“What, so you plan to kill me in my bed? What dishonor is this?”
“Ah, but see, you do not want to fight me.” The Doctor smiled. It was not a nice smile. “You know, they used to call me the Destroyer of Worlds.”
“You would deny me a fight to the death?” Humperdinck started to puff up in indignation.
“Oh, it would not be a fight to the death. It would be to the pain.” The Doctor stood, leaning against the bed frame and sheathing the sword.
“To the pain? What does that mean?” Humperdinck asked, sitting up, uneasy.
Westley came out from the shadows, and the Doctor stepped back. “‘To the pain,’” Westley began to explain, while the Doctor filed his nails, “means that the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles.” He tapped the blanket just above Humperdinck’s ankles. “Then your hands at the wrists, next your nose…” Westley leaned in and tapped the Prince’s nose with a finger. “The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right…”
Humperdinck swatted Westley away, braver now that he no longer had a sword to his throat. He pulled out his own sword from his bedside and jumped out. “My ears next, I suppose,” he snarled, holding his sword in front of him, ready to fight. In one quick motion, however, the Doctor had used his sonic to cause Humperdinck to drop his sword, disarming him, and Westley had him at swordpoint once again.
“No… Your ears you keep, and I’ll tell you why,” came Buttercup’s voice as she came to stand next to Westley. “So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish; every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, ‘Dear God! What is that thing?’ will echo in your perfect ears.” she hissed.
“That is what ‘to the pain’ means,” Westley continued. “It means we leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery, forever.”
Humperdinck’s face was ashen, and he looked moments away from tasting his dinner again.
“If I were you…” The Doctor stretched luxuriously. “I would leave my friends alone from now on.”
The Prince nodded frantically, and the Doctor smiled again. “I’m glad that we understand each other. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
In a flash they were all gone, and he might have thought the entire interaction was some strange nightmare, had he not been left with a note in unfamiliar handwriting left on his pillow which read Don’t make me come back.
Meanwhile, the Doctor, Buttercup, and Westley had returned back to the TARDIS, where Bel, Rose, Fezzik, and Inigo had been monitoring things from the console room.
“That was a very impressive speech you gave,” Inigo told them.
“Yes, very intimidating, very scary,” Fezzik agreed.
“How did you come up with such an intense threat, anyway?” Westley asked in interest. “It was quite creative.”
Before the Doctor could come up with a clever answer, Rose did so for him. “He stole it from an 80s movie,” she snorted. “And then adapted it like the drama queen he is.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” The Doctor pointed out.
“Yes, you are very scary.” Bel patted his arm. “Glad you got to live out your theatre kid dreams.”
“They called me the Oncoming Storm, you know,” the Doctor pointed out. “I am very scary, sometimes.”
“You are,” Bel admitted. “But you’re also a softy and do silly voices when reading children’s books.”
“Two things can be true at once.” Buttercup hummed. “Though I must ask, what’s a movie?”