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After their outing at the marketplace - and the news of the Montague boy’s arrival spreading through town - Rosaline, nor any of the younger Capulets on that matter, had not been allowed to wander through the Italian streets, their afternoon strolls having been limited to the Capulets piazza and their gardens. Benvolio Montague had been the source of such weariness and beginning of many new rumors.
His name had been whispered behind the careful hands uof gossiping maids, spat across the table during what were meant to be peaceful meals and gatherings she knew her parents to be shielding her and Livia from the conflict brewing between the two houses, her Lord uncle did nothing to hide his hate or distaste, neither did his wife. Both were too convinced with the idea that Lord Montague was closing his ranks, preparing an army in the wake of a future attack. Both were too happy for Juliet to be exposed to the ugliness of the conflict and thus, for her to inherit their anger.
Mindlessly swinging in the rocking chair with a forgotten book in her lap, Rosaline k herself reminiscing about her meeting with the Montague boy. He did not seem as if overwhelmed with grief, merely lost and slightly curious. Then again, who was she to condemn someone about their lack of apparent suffering, Rosaline inwardly scolded herself at the thought. She had the luck of having her two parents, whole and healthy, and couldn’t entertain the thought of ever losing them. He had not known who she was, Rosaline reminded herself as she got up from her chair and went to lean against the balcony’s railing, the afternoon’s sky turning into a light pink. Perhaps he had been acting? She dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed her mind.
“You look awfully thoughtful, my dear.”
Rosaline’s head tilted to the side, a small smile forming at her lips at the sound of her father’s voice. She watched, from the corner of her eye, as he silently came and stood beside her, overlooking the scenery, his hands locked behind his back.
“Merely restless, father,” Rosaline sighed, crossing her arms on the railing, “Surely you would understand if you were coped in a house all day.”
She heard him let out a breathe before he fully turned to face her.
“Rosaline, I am simply -”
“Following our Dear Uncle’s orders and by doing so, ensuring our safety,” Rosaline boldly interrupted, leaning back and letting go of the railing, “So I am aware. But surely if anyone can talk some sense into our Uncle’s mind, it is his brother.”
“The only mind which I need to talk some sense into seems to be yours, Rosaline,” he countered, cocking an eyebrow at her as he grabbed her by the shoulders.
Chastisied by the subtle gesture, Rosaline swallowed an umpteenth sigh and bowed down her head in defeat. She only dared to look back up when her father gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before his hands slid down to her arms. Her brown eyes met his and a small smile appeared on his face.
“The world is a dangerous place, my love, and Veronica is no exception. It is only my duty as father to protect you, and your sister, from harm.”
“The world has always been and will be a dangerous place,” Rosaline countered, lifting a shoulder, “Your duties also include letting me discover those dangers at my own risks.”
He huffed out a small laugh, earning a smile from Rosaline, before he drew her in closer and kissed her forehead.
“I suppose they do,” he sighed before he drew back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Dinner will be served soon. I suppose I’ll discuss the matter with your Uncle then.”
Smiling back, Rosaline gave a small nod, letting her father squeeze her shoulders one last time before he walked out of her room, leaving her to her battling thoughts. Letting out tired a breath, Rosaline fell back into her chair, her gaze stuck on the setting sun as she hoped for merrier times.
Much to Rosaline’s joy, her Utncle had reluctantly agreed to allow them free movements in the city a couple of days after her discussion between her and her father had occurred. The security around the Capulet’s heiress remained strong - at her Lady Aunt’s request - and lovely Juliet was rarely seen wandering the streets of Verona without a couple of guards shadowing her every step. If you were to ask Rosaline, she would say that Juliet being followed and guarded brought more attention onto the young girl than needed. However, Rosaline was clever and sound of mind and, therefore bit her traitorous tongue and swallowed the snide remark. It would have been foolish if her to lose her newly acquired freedom over an argument with her Aunt.
As she strolled into the town square, a bounce in her step, Rosaline couldn’t help but feel as if she were rediscovering the city she had been born and raised in. A content sigh leaving her lips, she smiled while abounding chasing children and waving when hearing her name being called. Through the crowd, a lone figure sitting by the. Madonna Verona, caught her eye and caused her to stop. It seemed he had chosen to hide in the shadow, as if trying not to attraction onto himself. Casting a quick look around to assure that she wasn’t being watched, Rosaline cautiously walked toward him.
Benvolio Montague had somehow changed since their first meeting had occurred. He seemed more withdrawn, more cautious now that he had been made aware of the bad blood between their two families. Yet, here he was, in the heart of Verona without an escort and apparently unconcerned about his safety. Rosaline frowned at the thought as she got closer to the young man: did Lord Montague care so little about his nephew’s wellbeing that he had sent him of in the lion’s den with no precaution whatsoever or was it the opposite? She noticed as he looked up from his lap every couple of minutes, his hands moving fluidly across his lap. When getting closer, Rosaline caught sight of the piece of charcoal between his fingers and the parchment spread over his lap.
Seemingly oblivious to her presence, Benvolio tilted his head to the side in contemplation and scratched his nose before going back to his sketching, unaware of the dark mark left behind. Smothering a laugh, Rosaline gave a soft clear of throat, and after once more assuring herself that no one was observing her, sat down beside him, leaving a space behind the two. Benvolio’ entire body tensed and his hands froze in their movements, silently acknowledging her presence.
“Though I am aware I must be quite fascinating to look at the staring is getting tiresome. I suggest you be on your way,” he spoke after an annoyed clear or throat
Rosaline could not restrain a scoff of indignation at the request - demand.
“I now recognize that Montague arrogance,” she retorted.
From the corner of her eye, she could see the frown that had appeared on his face, his head half turned toward her. She watched as his bright eyes widened in recognition before he snorted and focused back onto his drawing.
“‘Tis quite a statement as it is spoken by a Capulet.”
Rosaline’s lips twitched up at the repartee. When had previous Montague had said their names with contempt and disgust, Benvolio said it in a teasing voice, as if they were sharing a joke only the two of them knew of. Perhaps they were. Letting out a sigh, Rosaline let a hand drop in the fountain, her fingers drawing circles in the water.
“You are at the heart of the gossips, my Lord. If you ought to hide yourself from the rest of Verona, perhaps you should do it somewhere else than the very crowded town square,” Rosaline countered, trying to mimick Benvolio’s previous tone.
The latter replied with a hum, an eyebrow arched in what Rosaline thought was interest. Stopping his drawing, Benvolio cocked his head to the side.
“Am I really at the heart of the gossip?” he inquired, his tone slightly hesitant.
“Well, of course my Lord. An addition to the Montague Clan - an addition that happened to be the nephew of Lord Montague, nonetheless - caused people to talk. Us Capulet have got to protect ourselves in case of a brewing war.
Though her voice was jesting, her words stayed true. She has heard her Uncle and father speculating about the real reason of Benvolio’s presence in Verona. None of them seemed to believe that Lord Montague seemed to be charitable enough to take in the son of his late brother. Rosaline watched as his lips quirked up in a smile, his eyes meeting hers.
“There is no need for such formalities, Rosaline. We both share the same status, you can simply call me by my given name.”
“I do not think that would not be appropriate, sir. Beside,” Rosaline narrowed her eyes at him,“ are we not supposed to despise each other?
He barked out a laugh before sobering, his lips pursed when he turned back to his sketching.
“You forget, my Lady, I have not been raised in Verona nor have I been taught to hate a person on sight because of her name.”
Rosaline frowned, wetting the back of her neck and the inside of her wrists before she folded her hands ont her lap. She noticed his use of the honorific and wondered if he was using to mock her or out of resignation.
“But you’re a Montague,” she protested, emphasizing on his name, “Surely, your father must have told you tales of our houses’ hatred.”
“You seem awfully eager for me to hate you, Lady Rosaline of House Capulet,” Benvolio said, his confused tone trumped by his amused smirk. Unfazed by her glare, he lifted a shoulder in nonchalance, “My parents did not seem to deem it necessary for me to know of this rivalry. My Uncle, on the other hand, seems extremely determined in teachimg me that all Capulet men were conmen and their daughters, sorceresses.”
Rosaline let out a loud scoff, plastering a smile on when the sound attracted the attention of them and ignoring Benvolio’s stiffened laughter. She could not help but feel a bit of envy toward the latter : Benvolio had been raised without any expectations or beliefs forced onto him. The thought was forced away by a touch of guilt, Rosaline knew she had been one of the lucky ones. She was part of one of Verona’s most powerful families, had been raised by two loving parents and had forged genuine and longing last friendships with the royal heirs. She knew of her privilege and yet, she could not help but envy others. Was that supposed to say something about her?
Benvolio’s loud sigh shook Rosaline out of her trance. When she turned to look at him, the young man was bent over his parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“But I am in Verona, now. And like you happened to point you earlier, I am a Montague. Thus, I suppose it would be wise for me to know the tale of our families’ rivalry. And who better but a Capulet to count such tale?”
Once again, Rosaline narrowed her eyes at Benvolio, the latter meeting her with half a smile and genuine curiosity in his blue eyes. Taking a great breath of hair, she turned her back to him and spoke. She spoke about the Capulets, who had arrived years before the Montagues in Verona, and had established their business, a business that flourished quickly and greatly. The Montagues, made of merchants and woodworkers, had arrived a decade later. The Capulets had generously allowed them to establish on the other side of the river - Rosaline ignored the blank look Benvolio sent her and continued her tale - and went as far to expending their riches to them in the early days. She told Benvolio about how the Madonna Verona had been sculpted by both Montagues and Capulets alike, as -a sign of unity and peace in the city of Verona.
As Rosaline spoke of the peace being threatened by the Montague Clan’s wealth, Benvolio drew. Though he seemed engrossed by his work, she supposed he was listening to her by the looks she received, the snorts and various sounds that escaped his lips. She noticed his frown when she spoke of the Montague’s tentative to overthrow the Capulets and claim Verona for their own, which eventually led to a civil war that put an end to the alliance between the two houses.
“Is that all?” was all Benvolio said when Rosaline fell silence.
Her eyes widening at his nonchalance, she let out a small scoff and turned so her body was facing his.
“Is it not enough for you?” Rosaline countered.
“Perhaps it is enough to explain our unity coming to an end but I also do believe it has been blown out of proportions. With the way Lord Montague spoke of the Capulets, I would have thought of a kidnapped maiden or some betrayal of some kind,” he retorted, an eyebrow arched in indredulity as if to emphasize on the ridiculousness of the conflict.
Rolling her eyes, Rosaline could not help the small laugh that escaped her lips, earning a small smile from Benvolio. The latter cleared his throat, adopting a more serious demeanor.
“Nevertheless, the Capulets appeared to be the ones at fault,” he announced, his voice smug.
“Are they truly?” Rosaline countered, her arms crossed, “And pray tell, kind sir, how so?”
For all his eloquence, Benvolio chose to stay quiet and responded with a shrug, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Stiffening her own smile, Rosaline dipped her fingers into the cold water and flicked them at Benvolio, the latter raising an arm to shield him. Narrowing his eyes at her, he took the time to roll his parchment and pushed it inside before splashing her in retaliation. Jumping up with a shriek, Rosaline glared down at Benvolio, the latter leaning back against the foot of the statue with a victorious smirk.
“Typical Montague,” she tutted, “Always blaming others for their bad deeds.”
“Typical Capulet,” Benvolio mimicked, “Never accepting their responsibilities and consequences of their actions.”
Snorting, Rosaline shook her head, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. The loud sound of the old clocktower sounding 6 startled Rosaline, the latter realizing how much time she had spent outside. Sure enough, the sky had turned from a bright, cloudless blue to a pinkish orange and the crowd in the town square had lessened considerably. Sighing, she turned back to Benvolio, the latter staring back at her.
“I’m afraid I must bid you adieu, my Lord.”
“Already?” Benvolio frowned, pushing himself off the statue and up to his feet.
“Should I stay out longer, my father would send the whole of Verona after me,” she retorted, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Very well. Would you like me to escort you back? Surely it will be dark soon.”
“With all due respect, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Rosaline held out a hand when he began to protest, “I assure you, Benvolio, no harm will come to me on this side of town. Beside, a Montague and a Capulet walking side by side would only attract more gazes and cause more gossips. And with your luck, you would end up getting lost when finding your way back to the Montague estate,” she added in jest.
He scoffed, earning a small smile in return from Rosaline.
“And I suppose a Capulet being escorted by a Montague would be poor form.”
“I suppose it would,” Rosaline reluctantly admitted with a sigh, “Thus, our paths must part.”
“Then I bid you good night and wish you a safe way back to your home, Lady Rosaline,” he softly said.
Restraining a wince at the title, Rosalie gave him a small nod and bowed down a small curtsy before turning her back to him and walking away. It wasn’t long before she heard him call back her name and though she stepped in her tracks, she kept her back to him.
“Like I have said earlier, I’m new to Verona and like you have pointed out, I am most likely to get lost if left to my own devices,” Benvolio began, his light and teasing tone causing Rosaline to stiffen a smile, “I could use someone to show me the sights of the city and as much as I love Romeo, the boy is quite easily distracted.”
“What are you saying then, my Lord? That you are in need of a guide?”
“I am in need of a friend,” he corrected.
A friend, Rosaline found herself repeating in her own mind, strangely giddy at the thought. She had few of those, thanks to her name. Princess Isabella considered her her friend - the girl had even made Rosaline took an oath to honor their friendship - and she supposed that Escalus could be counted as a friend too. Could she called Juliet and Livia her friends if they shared the same blood and name? She supposed she could since she had chosen to consider them as friends as much as they were her cousin and sister.
Rosaline wondered if Benvolio had the luxury to have more than his cousin as a friend. Seeing as she found him hidden and avoiding most of Verona, she didn’t think that it was the case. Turning her head to the side, Rosalie could see Benvolio still standing behind her from the corner of her eye. She smiled as she noticed his nervous, fidgeting hands.
“I suppose that could be arranged,” she sighed dramatically as she allowed him to catch sight of her smile.
The beaming grin she received was enough to assure that any relationship she would start with Benvolio Montague was as genuine as his smile. Clearing his throat, he clasped his hands behind his back and gave a small nod, his grin lingering on his face.
“Now that we are in understanding, I wish you a good night, Rosaline.”
“Good night, Benvolio,” Rosaline returned, her voice soft as if she was whispering a secret into Verona’s very own ear.
The young man had already turned on his heels, his arms lazily balancing from side to side as he walked down the street. Before she could do the same and return to her own household, Rosaline caught sight of the previously rolled parchment that Benvolio seemed to have left on the ledge of the fountain. As she went to call him back, Rosaline realized that he was too far gone and would only attract attention by calling the name of her so-called enemy. With a sigh, she walked to the fountain and retrieved the piece of paper before it could fall into the cold water and ruin whatever work Benvolio had been working on.
Her curiosity getting the better over her as she strolled darkening alleys, Rosaline found herself slowly unrolling the parchment, as if dreading what she would find on it. What she saw caused her to stop in her trek, almost losing her footing and succeeding in losing her breath. Rosaline saw the Madonna Verona drawn in all her majesty while the rest of Verona went about their day, half drawn and faceless figures. She recognized the young woman sitting by the fountain, engrossed by the book opened in her lap and seemingly unbothered by the black curls falling in her eyes.
Letting out a small laugh in incredulity, Rosaline shook herself out of trance and carefully rolled back the paper, a smile on her face as she resumed her trek. Yes, she thought, Benvolio Montague would make a fine friend.