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Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D With thanks to bas_math_girl for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And I picked names out of my character name book. I was on a meaning kick, so that explains the five I chose. :)

And sykira, so sorry this isn't completely finished. Muse was being fickle, and I couldn't make good progress with this or with Flipped 2. But I was determined to have something of this to post for you. Please enjoy, and send any ideas you might have - the end is still open. :D

Seals of Love

Started December 4, 2012
Finished December 2012/January 2013

CHAPTER ONE: THEY ARE RETURNED

It was a fairly quiet moment outside the governor of Messina's house. His niece, Beatrice, lay on a lounge chair, feet resting up on the head as she read a magazine on the latest news. Sunglasses covered her light eyes, and her ginger hair was offset by her purple shirt and her blue jeans.

Near her, sitting on the ground and playing with blocks, was a two years old girl with hair that nearly matched Beatrice's – the only difference was the brown tone. She smiled at the sight of Sienna, who looked briefly at her with a grin and shining dark eyes before returning to her creation.

In front of the other lounge chair, her blonde cousin Hero stood – equally barefoot – in a fluffy pink skirt and a nearly matching pink bikini top. Her bum bag was open, ready to hold the music player she was setting. She quietly gave instructions to the nine years old girl next to her. The girl's completely ginger locks declared her connection to Beatrice, but she listened in rapt attention as she followed her older cousin's directions. She wore a pink dress that swirled if she spun quickly. She also carried a bum bag and held a music player in her hands, turning it on when directed to.

Hero whispered, “Now back inside.” She demonstrated how to place the player in the pack, and smiled as her cousin copied her. “Now we're ready, Rue.” She began a sort of marching before launching into a dance. Rufine copied her almost perfectly, if a beat off at first.

Beatrice looked up as the shadows caught her attention. Her mouth dropped, followed by her head. Oh god, what was this? Her eldest child, and she was such a girly girl!

Rufine loved feeling like a big girl, like her cousin. She was so caught up in copying that she was startled when Hero suddenly pulled her earphones down. Looking in the same direction, she copied Hero as her great-uncle – whom she treated as a grandfather – had come.

Leonato declared, pulling his cigar out of his mouth, “I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina!”

The news sent Hero scurrying away in silent excitement to put on a dress. Squealing, Rufine and Sienna ran in the opposite direction, going to tell their siblings and great-aunt the news.

Beatrice was struck silent. This was the news she had been waiting to hear for months, but she lacked the critical detail she needed. She barely heard her uncle speaking with the prince's messenger, for her mind was overcome with concerns that her daughters would not be thinking of. Indeed, she had in many ways sheltered her children from certain realities of the world, although the two eldest had to be close to realizing the unpleasant truth that not everyone who went to war came home.

Having slipped her sandals back on, she leaned against a pillar with a lager in hand. She could hear Hero and Margaret giggling to each other about a lord named Claudio, who Beatrice remembered her cousin favoring when the army left on this ended action. When the messenger paused in his praise of Claudio, Beatrice pushed up her glasses and spoke. “I pray you, is Senor Mountanto returned from the war... or no?” Her words were careless, but she felt like she was trembling as she waited for an answer.

The Messenger didn't notice Leonato rolling his eyes. “I know none of that name, Lady. There was none of any sort in the army.”

“What is he that you ask for, niece?” asked Leonato, knowing the answer.

Hero spoke, wanting to stop this nonsense. “My cousin means Senor Benedick of Padua – her husband.”

The Messenger's eyes lit in recognition, and, as he answered, looked at Beatrice with newfound curiosity. “Oh, he is returned, and as pleasant as ever he was.”

Beatrice all but sagged against the pillar. But her wit would not be suppressed. “I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed, for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing,” she finished, gently nudging the Messenger's arm.

“Faith, niece!” interjected Leonato as he walked past them. “You tax Senor Benedick too much, but he'll be meet with you... I doubt it not.” He glanced back at her before he left to summon his wife and the rest of Beatrice's family. Although he guessed that his young great-nieces had already spread the word.

As Beatrice walked in the opposite direction, the Messenger engaged her in conversation, curious to learn for himself what the Senor's lady was like. “He hath done good service in these wars, lady.”

She turned, grinning. “You hath musty victual, and he hath helped to eat it; he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath an excellent stomach.”

“And a good soldier, too, lady,” the Messenger added, watching as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes.

Oh, she liked an opening when she had one. “And a good soldier to a lady.” It rendered the Messenger confused, allowing her to continue her fun. “But what is he to a lord?”

“A lord to a lord, a man to man, stuffed with all honourable virtues.”

She suppressed a laugh. These soldiers were so ridiculous with their pomp and circumstance, and she wished that their subject was there to participate, for she knew he would have an excellent answer for that. “It is so indeed, he is no less than a stuffed man.” She rounded the Messenger, ignoring that her aunt had arrived, bringing Rufine, Sienna, and their siblings: Rufine's twin, Adrian; the almost seven years old Crispin, named for his hair; and fours years old Ignac, named after his high spirits as much as his also having his mother's hair. The children were, after all, used to hearing her mock their father – and she had some cause since he had persuaded her to name all their children for something connected to their hair. “But for the stuffing, well... we are all mortal,” she added around her unlit smoke.

Leonato had to speak, to explain the situation to the baffled Messenger. “You must not mistake my niece. Doubt not that there is a deep love betwixt Senor Benedick and her,” he insisted, motioning at the five children standing next to Innogen. “And yet almost since they were introduced there has always been a kind of merry war between them. They never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them.”

Beatrice spared her uncle a glance. “Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, before he left to fulfill his duties to the prince, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one.” The others laughed, the Messenger uncertain. Her children shared a long-suffering look, shared only by those silently bemoaning their elders' behavior. Beatrice's wit would not remain silent. “Who is his companion now?” she asked the Messenger, who practically sat on his heels. “He hath every month a new sworn brother.”

“Is't possible?”

“Very easily possible: he wears his faith with the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the next block.”

The Messenger stood. “I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.”

“No; and he were, I would burn my study.” Her children all rolled their eyes as she stood. “But I pray you, who is his companion? A lady needs to know if there is no young squarer now who will make a voyage with her husband to the devil.”

“He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio,” the Messenger answered, pointing with the hand holding a lager at Hero, suspecting the lady's preference.

Hero and Margaret grew excited, but Beatrice all but groaned. “O lord! He will hang upon him like a disease. He is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker runs presently mad.” She motioned Hero's way. “God help the noble Claudio, if he hath caught the Benedick,” she spat. “It will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured.”

“I will hold friends with you, lady,” the Messenger declared.

“Do.” Beatrice winked with an accompanying sound, drawing wordless respect and admiration from the Messenger's lips. “Good friend.” She lit her cigarette.

“You will never run mad, niece?” Leonato asked pointedly, motioning at the evidence of her contact with Benedick.

She grinned as she blew out smoke. “No, not till a hot January.”

He laughed silently, marveling again at how well she and her husband suited.

Two of Leonato's men opened a nearby gate quickly. “Ah,” the Messenger announced, handing his lager to a nearby woman, “Don Pedro is approached.” The women of the house scrambled about as five soldiers entered on a march, Hero and Margaret rushing away for admiring looks. Beatrice strolled slowly away, snapping her fingers for her children to attend her. They did, eying their cousin and her gentlewoman's sighing aloud in delight. It was more interesting to watch the Messenger greet Don Pedro with a salute, and how the others saluted a moment behind Don Pedro.

Then a horn blasted musically, and a golf cart rolled into sight while Don Pedro spoke with the Messenger. The other four soldiers parted to make room for the beaming man driving the cart, all but one grinning at the sight. The children grew excited, the youngest bouncing with joy. They barely waited for him to stop the cart, step out slightly and toss his hat in the air before swarming him. “Father!”

Benedick barely had the time to fully hop out and push his sunglasses up on his head. His already huge smile grew as he managed to open his arms to let them all into an embrace – with his eldest son having unerringly caught his hat first despite several being in the air at once. He returned their exclamations about missing him with quieter assurances.

He lifted his youngest onto his hip and let her cling to him as he had his other children help him pass out items from the cart while he let them speak of their latest accomplishments. Adrian had the task of helping give out the lager while Don Pedro greeted Leonato.

The words flowed happily between father and children until they were stunned to hear Leonato say, “Her mother hath many times told me so.” They looked at him with confusion.

The indignant look on Innogen's face told Benedick what the topic had been. To try to prevent a scene, he asked a joking question as he tossed Don Pedro a lager. “Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?”

Leonato removed the cigar. “Nephew, no, for then... were you a child.”

Benedick's smile wasn't as big as Leonato's or the prince's. He didn't consider this something worth joking about, and remained silent through Don Pedro's comments, until he had an opening. “If Senor Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.”

His two eldest understood the words. The younger ones frowned.

Beatrice, who had remained seated and refused to join in the greeting, could not resist. “I wonder that you will still be talking, Senor Benedick: nobody but your children mark you.”

Benedick's frame froze upon hearing the voice he had been without except for his memories for months. He moved slowly to place their youngest on her feet, and turned even slower to face her and strolled over as he spoke. “What... my dear lady Disdain... are you yet living?” But he stopped near her, waiting for her to let him know what she intended.

She pushed her glasses up, and grinned as she stood. “Is it possible disdain should die, while she hath such meet food to feed it as Senor Benedick?” They clinked their lagers, letting their fingers touch afterward briefly. It was past time for a sparring match. “Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come into her presence.”

“Then is courtesy a turn-coat,” he challenged. “But it is certain that I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted, and I would that I find I had not a hard heart for truly... I love none.” He took a long sip.

Their children watched with frowns. The oldest might remember their parents engaging each other in such a manner before, but it still made little sense.

Beatrice hardly waited. “A dear happiness to women! They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor.” Even a challenging look from her husband, which was evident through his usual smile, encouraged her. “I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.”

“If thou were still unwed, I would that God keep your ladyship still in that mind so some poor gentleman or other shall escape a predestinate scratched face.”

“Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were.” She drank.

He flinched. That one stung, even knowing her as he did. “Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.”

“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.”

He pointed at her with his lager-holding hand. “I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer.” She gestured a granting of a point to him, and he promptly held up a hand. “But...” He placed his lager on the ground. “Keep your way, a God's name, I have done.”

She hid a slight frown, even as she put down her empty lager and put her cigarette inside. “You always end with a jade's trick... I know you of old.”

His eyes flashed. “Peace! I will stop your mouth.” He immediately drew her into his grasp, head first, and then they were ignoring everything as the weight of missing each other drew him to lower to a seated position on a step and her straddling him.

The children exchanged a mix of amused and disgusted looks. They had missed their father, too, but was this necessary?!

“This is the sum of all, Leonato!” Don Pedro declared, coming back into view. “Senor...” He trailed off, noticing what held the children's attention. He shrugged. Benedick clearly did not need mentioning. “Senor Claudio and all my men, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all! And welcomes his nephew back.”

The only clue Benedick heard was he released one hand to raise his lager – which he managed to find without tipping it over – before putting it down to tangle that hand in his wife's hair.

Don Pedro was impressed – the man surely had practice with that action. “I tell him we shall stay at the least a month, and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer.”

Beatrice broke the kiss, a little alarmed. But Don Pedro saw and waved her concern off. “Nay, Lady, your husband I shall release from his duties for longer than that.” Benedick's attention was caught then, and the children cheered.

Only Leonato greeting Don John tempered the moment, and Beatrice noticed her husband's raised eyebrows over Don John's words of thanks. They otherwise ignored the tense moment that followed. Beatrice ran a finger over her husband's scruffy cheeks and narrowed her eyes. “Duties got in the way?”

He smiled. “It shall be gone before supper.”

Their children stepped forward, wanting to ask questions, but giggling from Hero interrupted them. They all glanced back to see her running off with a hat in hand and Claudio laugh in delight. The Count turned, and then paused. “Benedick, might I speak with thee privately?”

The older lord sighed unhappily. When a request was put that way, there was no good manner to refuse it with. He gave his wife an apologetic look, and she rubbed his shoulders as she stood. “Come, children. You shall see your father when his friend has said his peace.” She had to hurry the children along through farewells and summon them with her – but not leaving without sending a saucy look to her husband, knowing it would encourage him to conclude the talk sooner.

Benedick's impatience matched his wife's, and he grabbed his lager to steady his nerves. He was sure to finish it within moments, given Claudio's history.

Claudio waited until he could no longer see his friend's family before he began, with a huge smile. “Benedick, what does thou note of the daughter of Senor Leonato?”

Frowning, Benedick answered plainly. “I noted my cousin not, but I looked on her. And you have reminded me that I must still greet her.”

Claudio sat beside him. “Is she not a modest young lady?”

This line of questions puzzled him. “Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment, or as a man who treats his cousin like the sister which his wife does, or... would you have me speak after my custom, as a professed tyrant to their sex?” He took another drink.

Claudio shook his head, asking while his friend took a long drink. “No, I pray thee speak in sober judgment, as though you were not her cousin.”

“Why?” Benedick's mind was turning rapidly, trying to follow where the count's mind might be leading him to, and he was not liking the possibilities. Still, he respected the request. “I'faith, methinks... she's too tall for a great praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too lean for a large praise.” He was aware of Claudio's growing impatience, but he wouldn't hurry. “Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than as she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other as she is, I would not have liked her.” He took another drink as his suspicions grew.

“Thou thinkest that I am in sport: I pray thee tell me truly how gentlemen like her.”

“Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?” Benedick snapped.

“Can the world buy such a jewel?!”

“Yea... and a case to put it into.” He looked Claudio's distracted posture over, hoping he was wrong. “But speak you this with a sad blow. Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song?”

“In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on.”

Benedick shook his head. “I can see yet without spectacles, and I would have seen no such matter as a bachelor: there's her cousin, who even when possessed with a fury exceeds her in beauty as much as the first of May doth the last of December.” Only Claudio didn't seem to hear him state the truth at all. That made Benedick's blood turn cold. “I hope you have no intent to talk husband...” He trailed off when Claudio turned toward him with eyes that proclaimed his intentions. “Have you?!”

“I would scarce trust myself though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife!”

Benedick stood immediately and walked a little off. As a married man, he could not berate Claudio for wanting to leave the bachelor state. But he could protest when he doubted the man's suitability and his reasons for marrying. The trouble was finding the right words without offending the easily offended man.

He still struggling when Don Pedro came back, demanding to know why they were delayed. And sure enough, Benedick had to inform the prince, in as mocking a manner as he thought he could get away with, and saw Claudio act like he meant his words. He tried to interject that neither knew what Hero deserved, but it became clear that he had to speak more forcefully – especially when his previous position as 'an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty' was bandied against him.

“That a woman... conceived me, I have always thanked her.” He ignored the groan from Don Pedro. “That she brought me up, I have likewise given her most humble thanks: but each of thee have forgotten what the vows of marriage mean. Your wife does not just cleave onto thee: thou cleaves onto her, swearing to forsake all others. Why marry if thou hast no intention of honouring that vow? Why choose a wife who thou cannot trust to rule in thy name and who thou cannot respect enough to honour by fulfilling thy vows?”

Their surprised silence worked in his favor. “I had not thought such a woman could exist for me – until I met Beatrice. There was a woman who God had favoured with beauty, virtue, wisdom, a wit that can match mine, and everything a woman ought to be blessed with. But her wit was what captivated me: I had no interest in a woman who would obey me, and here was one who had no intention of doing that to any man. And yet I nearly threw it all away because men are expected to lead. If I had not chanced to see her displeasure and asked what caused it, I assure you I would be standing before you declaring that I would live a bachelor, for she and I would surely be at war.”

Claudio looked at Benedick with a frown. “I fail to see why thou is so perturbed at my inclination.”

Benedick eased himself into the cart's seat, slowly resting his feet over the front. “I will not see my cousin wed to someone who does not respect her, will not leave all dalliances aside forever, and will not forsake his brothers' expectations to protect her. If thou is not prepared to trust her as half yourself, pick out thy own eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and have thee hanged up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid.”

Don Pedro sat, shaking his head. “Well, as time shall try. 'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke'.”

Benedick sat up, not liking that his words seemed ignored. “The savage bull may; but if ever the impetuous Claudio prove not ready to bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in his forehead, and let him vilely painted, and in such great letters as they write, 'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under his sign, 'Here you may see Claudio, the married man'.” He shook the bars of the cart, mocking the feeling of being trapped that he thought too many men viewed marriage.

Pushing quickly and sharply to his feet, like a military man usually did, Don Pedro held up a hand to stop Claudio from snapping at Benedick's protective streak toward his cousin. “Well, we have kept thee from thy family far too long. Before thou goes to thy home, repair to Leonato's, commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him a supper; or indeed he hath made great preparation.”

Sighing silently, Benedick accepted the glass from his lord and set it and his empty lager into secure places before starting the cart. “I have almost matter enough in my for such an embassage; and so I commit you -”

Claudio, as irritated as he was by Benedick's words, could not help making sport of him and imitated writing with his own cigarette. “To the tuition of God. From my house, if I am there -”

Don Pedro finished, also imitating with a cigarette, “The sixth of July. Your loving friend, Benedick.”

Benedick silently groaned. “Nay, mock not, mock not; the body of your discourse is sometimes guarded with fragments...” He paused to reverse the cart. “...and the guards are but slightly basted on neither.” He pulled forward a moment, but paused to reverse slowly, pointing at Claudio in warning. “Ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience; and so I leave you!” He felt and heard a hand slap against the cart as he drove off, suspecting it was Claudio. Which meant that the young lord had not truly heard his words, which would force him to caution Hero about accepting any suit.

Oh, why did he have to have this to deal with? What would it take for Claudio to understand his own limits?

Sighing, he vowed to quickly carry out Don Pedro's command. Then he would return home and have the barber's man come to him. While he was shaved, he would entertain his children with stories of the things he saw on this action, leaving out the details that they were too young to hear. And then... he would seek Beatrice's company. It had been too long since they last... bathed together.

If that made his family late to supper and the revels, so be it. He was a father and a man. The duties of the former and the needs of the latter came first.

Go on to either:
Chapter Two: Make Good Room
or DVD Extra the First

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D With thanks to bas_math_girl for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And I picked names out of my character name book. I was on a meaning kick, so that explains the five I chose. :)

And sykira, I'm trying hard to finish this ASAP. There are still chapters that need a little expanding, and RL has been keeping me busy. But I'll try to keep the chapters coming.


Chapter One
DVD Extra the First

CHAPTER TWO: MAKE GOOD ROOM

Hero was delighting in her pink princess dress, and almost as much in the Lady Di mask her mother handed her. She was ready to praise her mother's Cleopatra dress when her young cousins burst in, instantly capturing all the attention.

Rufine wore a combination of articles that had been made popular by videos from American telly, and the look was more than a bit out of place on a nine years old girl – although everything was covered because the shirt was so big. Her father had been very unhappy with her choice, but he had not been permitted to comment thanks to her mother's non-verbal warning. Sienna was Maid Marian from a cartoon, although she was lacking the fox accessories that would have completed the look – she was too impatient to sit long enough for one of her mother's gentlewomen to put them on her. Adrian was a mustache-less Luigi from the Mario Brothers game, fitting his young version of his father's tall and lanky frame. Crispin was an obvious Luke Skywalker (although his blond curls had to be slicked down) and Ignac was Robin Hood from the same cartoon his little sister took inspiration from – complete with a fox's tail and ears poking from his cap.

Innogen praised their costumes, and wasn't surprised when her gentlewoman Ursula's eldest grandchild ran up, wearing a Mario costume (also without a mustache), and then led the others off toward something else. She watched them a moment, and then turned when she saw movement. She and Hero were stunned by Benedick and Beatrice's costumes.

The lady had adorned herself with dark shades, a man's white shirt, a black jacket, and slim black trousers that reached only to above mid-calf. Trainers, white socks, and a black fedora completed the look. The gentleman's costume was much more startling: a shiny black top that plainly covered a fake pair of boobs, a skirt rather dangerously short, lace tights, red high-tops, a wig of curly blond 'hair', a huge visor, a pig's snout covering his nose, and hints of makeup that would've looked even stranger had he not lost his beard a few hours earlier. No pun intended. And hence why his wife stopped him from ordering Rufine to change into another costume.

Beatrice cut off all comments by raising her lager bottle. Her arm was linked with Benedick's in such a way that they were taking the gender-flipping even further. At least until they all sat and she draped herself over her husband's legs, slightly unladylike. He grinned and wrapped an arm around her as she placed her hat blithely on the table.

The whispering between Hero and Innogen stopped when Leonato appeared, drinking a spirit on the rocks. He noted his niece's position and suppressed an unhappy sigh. He had hardly been able to tame her before she met Benedick, and it seemed marriage had hardly done any better. Benedick seemed disinclined to even remotely tame her, and certainly encouraged her less-than-ladylike ways. Leonato was not amused when Beatrice had unexpectedly broke into awkward singing at dinner. What had she thought she was doing and why did she glare at her equally blushing husband for several long minutes? So he introduced a topic to take his mind off the matter. “Was not Count John here at supper?”

“I saw him not,” said Innogen.

Benedick listened to the rest of the discussion, wherein Beatrice commented on the man's demenor, compared him to Benedick himself in a teasing way, and then defended her wit regarding the sort of man who might be ideal and about her “curst” ways. He protested that her ways were a blessing to him, for he would not have her or their children otherwise, which ended that part of the talk. He was highly entertained by her description of how the Devil might have greeted her on her death before sending her off to heaven, even if he wasn't keen on the thought of her being merry with the bachelors.

He felt in a merry mood (even not accounting for the lager he had finished) until the talk moved to Hero being “ruled” by her father. He was uncertain whether he would be married to Beatrice had he insisted on the normal manner of a woman following a man's lead – something that Beatrice only did for appearances when it was necessary for his sake – and he had seen enough to question Leonato's judgment at times, despite the respect he did hold toward his uncle. Indeed, his aunt's intelligence and wisdom would be fit to rule a land by themselves!

He remained silent until Leonato halted the discussion about the worth of most men with a declaration to Hero: “Daughter, remember what I spoke of. If the Prince do solicit in that kind, you know your answer.”

“The Prince?” Benedick questioned, noting the alarmed look in Hero's entire being. “On what grounds doth you assume that my lord looks on Hero as his future wife?”

Leonato and Innogen looked surprised, although she answered. “I overheard him confess such to Claudio.”

Benedick's eyebrow raised skeptically. He also removed his visor and pig's nose, taking the wig with them. This required not looking quite so ridiculous. “I do not doubt your hearing, Aunt, but I cannot make that agree with what I heard from the Prince's lips earlier. Not even a breath of inclination toward Hero passed from him. From Claudio, however, such a wish flowed freely.” He noticed Hero's eyes filling with hope and light. “And I see my cousin is rather pleased with that thought. Indeed, Uncle, the Prince was encouraging Claudio's inclination. It would not surprise me that my aunt missed the beginning and the conclusion of whatever Don Pedro said, which would reconcile her overhearings with the conversation that I was part of.”

“The Count who returns with the most bestowed honour,” mused Leonato. “I would consider him an excellent husband for my daughter, but you, nephew would have me possibly anger the Prince if by chance he withheld his thoughts from you?”

“If he doth solicit, the fault will be in music, cousin,” said Beatrice, slowly twirling her sunglasses. “If you not be wooed in good time, if the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything and so dance out the answer.”

Benedick knew that Beatrice's wit was ready to move to an already discussed bit on comparing wooing and the aftermath to three respective forms of music. It amused him, but he had to calm their uncle. “Nay, but I can offer a delay that would cast no ill light on Hero. Indeed, I would urge this if Claudio solicits and the Prince doth not.”

“What is it you propose, cousin?” asked Hero, intrigued.

He leaned forward in his seat, as much as he could, given that he did not wish his wife to stand. “You are your father's only heir. All the traditions of his house, they could be lost if your husband will not honour that rich history – a history with traditions that you surely treasure.” At her nod, he carried on with a smile. “Then insist on witnessing proof that any prospective husband will support those traditions, keep them alive. You will be respecting your forefathers' legacies, and no man with honour shall hold that against you. Any such man who wishes to preserve his forefathers' legacies would respect and honour you for it.”

Leonato and Innogen were surprised, but thoughtful. Innogen nodded first. “An excellent compromise. And if you, Daughter, say that you would ask this of any man who offered for you, then no one could call you in the wrong.”

Beatrice smirked. “None except those who insist that a woman must demurely thank a man for his offer and accept, no matter what sort of man he be.”

Hero covered her mouth to hide a laugh. Leonato was irritated. “Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.”

“I have a good eye, uncle,” she insisted, putting on her glasses. “I can see a church by daylight.”

Benedick opened his mouth to defuse the moment, but Balthasar interrupted over the loudspeakers. “The revelers are entering. Make good room!” Before he finished, Beatrice hopped up so Benedick could also, and she helped him quickly re-don his head's attire. He soon joined the other men, and the ladies joined in the dancing soon after. The children followed suit from the sidelines, trying to copy the adults as best as possible.

Indeed, Benedick and Beatrice quickly forgot about the matter. They even failed to notice when Hero was led away by a man too short to be Claudio.

/=/=/=/

Claudio stood trying to recover his breath, his composure, and some semblance of calm. With all his dreams shattered at the word of Don John, he was not in the mood for company.

“Count Claudio!”

He grimaced. Benedick stood nearby, one arm around his wife – cousin to Hero. “Yea, the same.”

Benedick had had to give himself and Beatrice a moment to respectively compose themselves. When people had started splitting off into smaller groups, he had taken the opportunity to have some alone time with her. Their familiar teasing, quickly coming back into fine form with being in each other's company again, had made him react strongly to her jesting about his reputation and thus silenced them both for a while. Only overhearing some laughter reminded them that they were in a public place, and there was no cover for their actions. So he composed himself and, to give his wife more time to finish putting her shirt back into order, approached the Count, slightly unsteady from drinking and making love to his wife. “Come, will you go with us?”

Claudio barely let himself note that Benedick's appearance was less absurd without the wig, but the glasses resting on his head – never mind the makeup for his character – ruined any attempt to look serious. “Wither?”

“Even to the next willow, about your own business, Count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck, like a userer's chain? Or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the Prince... hath got your Hero?” He trailed off in confusion because he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing in the distance.

Beatrice took quick note of how Hero was plainly asking questions that had the Prince a little puzzled as to how to answer. However, Claudio interrupted her musings. “I wish him joy of her.”

Benedick's attention was grabbed, and he scowled. “Why, that's spoken like an honest drover: so they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you thus?”

“I pray you leave me!”

“Aye!” cried Beatrice. “Have you eyes?! Does Hero look as though she is truly entertaining attentions from the Prince? Have you so little faith?”

“If it will not be, I'll leave you!!” And he rushed away.

Benedick followed with a hop just long enough to see the Count head back to the main gathering area, heading straight for the bar. He shook his head. “Alas, poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into sedges.”

Beatrice scowled. “How is it that a man can know a woman and not know her? To think that Hero would even accept such attentions? On whose authority?! Did the Prince perhaps offer his services, and the Count not think about how it would look to an outsider if the Prince approached Hero? The position it would place her with my uncle?! I do not care how well reputed a man is Don Pedro, for he doth not have my cousin's love. But that she should have fallen for a man so ill-suited to respect a woman's mind, too unsure of himself to approach her in the slightest, and not willing to trust that his commander may be taken at his own word?”

“I know not what to call it, love. It is the base, the bitter disposition of most men that sends them into a flurry of assumptions, usually at the behest of another man, and so gives the woman out.”

Beatrice sighed, loudly and unhappily. “Well...” She reached under Benedick's skirt and pulled out the cigarette box he was keeping at his side. Taking one, she growled, “We'll be revenged as we may.”

He smiled and took the box from her, taking one out himself when Hero rushed toward one entryway and stopped before them. “Cousin,” Benedick greeted. “How goest it?”

“I must find my mother, to tell her what has happened. We have already spoken with my father, but the Count is needed.” She hurried off.

Before Beatrice, after exchanging a look with her husband as he lit both their cigarettes at once, could go after her cousin to demand answers, Don Pedro appeared. “Now, Senor, Lady Beatrice, where's the count? Have you seen him?”

Sighing, she blew out some smoke. “We saw where he went.” The prevarication was not intentional. She merely didn't wish to be near the man after what she saw.

Benedick offered Don Pedro a cigarette. “Troth, my lord, I told him, and I think I told him true, that your Grace had got the good will of Hero, offered him our company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped.”

“To be whipped! What's his fault?”

Benedick sat on the nearby steps, with Beatrice joining him as he put the box into one of his high tops. “The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.”

Don Pedro thought very briefly. “Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer.”

Benedick spoke as much to give his wife a chance to calm further as to give a rejoinder. “Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take from Claudio's words and actions, have stolen his birds' nest.”

The words were not typically spoken in front of a lady, but it indicated how much Benedick trusted his wife's judgement and wisdom that he spoke so freely before her. “I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner,” he challenged, seating himself beside Benedick.

“If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.”

A moment of silence passed before Don Pedro made the request he had intended. “Would you please seek Count Claudio, my Lady? There is great business for him, and I shall entertain your husband while you fulfill my errand.”

Benedick paused, just about to take another puff. “My Lord, I am the only one who can by law order Beatrice around, but if I do not even attempt that, I would appreciate your doing so neither.”

Don Pedro winced slightly, realizing he had overstepped his bounds. “Then will you seek Count Claudio for me, Lady Beatrice? I wish to speak with you husband as your cousin hath given me a great many things to consider.”

She shrugged, exchanged a quick kiss with her husband, and answered, “When phrased such, I am willing,” And so she hurried off.

She smiled as she spotted her quarry finishing another beer. Good, she could surprise him.

“Count Claudio,” she began, satisfied when he startled. “Come, the Prince has requested your presence, and sent me to fetch you.”

Claudio grimaced, and steeled himself for a very unpleasant interview. “Lead on, Lady.”

Beatrice laughed. “Oh, now, Count! If you think that my cousin would accept the Prince's suit, you are highly mistaken. Now I ask you to consider whatever your source is for such an assumption, and whether that even slightly fits with what you have surely witnessed of Hero's character.”

He took several long moments to reply. “A man of honour cannot reveal his sources, and I have no wish to offend you or your husband.”

She scowled, wondering if the Count was sober enough to realize he had, in a roundabout way, called her and Benedick liars. But she chose to lead him back to where she had been. Saying nothing seemed best, as the best and most effective retort would come from Benedick. Claudio would regret his words.

/=/=/=/

Meanwhile, Benedick sat in silence with Don Pedro for a moment before the Prince chose to break it. However much he wished to speak of what Hero had asked, another topic came to mind first. “Well, Benedick, how doth you answer men who would marvel that you hath not a quarrel to Lady Beatrice, or those who would say that she is much wronged by you?”

Benedick scoffed. “O, she uses her wit justly on a man and they would claim that she misused them past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered the accusations brought against her; my very visor would begin to assume life and scold with them. They would have stopped still when she told me in jest, which she would have said whether or not she had been thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. It is our way, my lord. I would defend her against any man who declared that she speaks poniards, and every word stabs: that if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star.”

Don Pedro gave a slight laugh. Not least because Benedick's words made those men seem foolish, but because he would defend his wife against any accuser. Though he did not wish to think that men were that terrible in their thinking toward her.

“Such fools would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed: they would instead cry that she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of them!”

Don Pedro did not know what to say or do. He did notice Beatrice and Claudio approaching.

Benedick stood, needing to move. “I would to God some scholar would conjure them; for certainly, they would believe that while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror and perturbation follows not her but them!”

“Look, here she comes,” Don Pedro announced, not certain what the lady would make of such words.

Benedick suppressed a grin. He could use this venom to his purpose, to tease Beatrice back for her remarks that fueled his earlier words to Don Pedro. “Were the Lady Beatrice and I truly at war I would here ask, will your Grace command me any service to the world's end. I would vow to go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I would fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' conference with this harpy.”

She knew he was jesting, but she still stopped still and gestured at herself in mock disbelief.

He did not look her way for long, except to lower his pointing hand. “You would have no employment for me then?”

Don Pedro suppressed a laugh, but not his smile. “None, but to desire your good company, for I would be absolutely sure that you doth protest too much.” Indeed, the suggestions themselves were far too much.

Benedick pretended to be horrified for a moment, but then smiled. “O God, sir, I thank God then that here's a dish I love most: I cannot thank the men enough who cannot endure my Lady Tongue.”

Beatrice had to smile, though it was laced with a saucy look that promised retaliation in the bedroom that evening. Benedick grinned back, and sank to sitting next to the Prince, back to smoking.

Don Pedro laughed loudly. “Come, Lady, come!” He scooted over slightly and slapped the now open space between him and Benedick. When she shrugged and honored the 'request', he added, “I am amazed to hear that you and Benedick almost did not keep each other's hearts but nearly lost them.”

She gave an awkward laugh as she sat. “Indeed, my Lord. I suppose if he had not been wise enough to ask a few questions, then I would be sitting here saying that he lent it me a while, and I gave him use for it. I would be making accusations of winning it of me with false dice and therefore your Grace would well say that I had lost it.”

“Ah, you would have put him down, lady, you would have put him down?”

“So I would have not he should do me, my lord, lest I should have proved the mother of fools.”

Benedick's arm went immediately around her shoulders, holding her close so he could nuzzle her hair.

Smiling gently at her husband, she then gestured behind her without looking there or at the amazed Don Pedro. “I have brought you Count Claudio whom you sent me to seek.”

Benedick joined the Prince in looking behind him, but didn't laugh when he saw the stony look on the younger man's face. He also remained silent as the Prince asked about Claudio's state of being. He did smile grimly as his wife accurately described his state: “civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.”

Don Pedro nodded slowly. “I'faith, Lady, I think your blazon to be true, though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. No, here, Claudio. I have wooed in thy name and fair Hero is nearly won.” He slapped Claudio's shoulder as Leonato led Hero and Innogen nearby. Hero's face was restrained in its pleasure and hope, but some shine was there that could only be classified as relief that the Prince would not have to be refused. “She only needs to hear some things from you, answers to very good questions she had. I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained.”

Claudio listened in growing astonishment, a smile threatening to break free. He looked in shock back at the Prince.

Don Pedro waved him on. “Answer her well, and then name the date of marriage, and God give thee joy!”

“Count,” began Leonato, “take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match and all grace say amen to it. All that is left is your answering my daughter, who hath inquiries that I can only approve of her asking before she gives her, the final, consent.”

He waved Hero forward, and she approached, watching Claudio's stunned smiling face. She had to smile in confusion, trying to convey that she wished him to speak.

Beatrice bounced to her feet and tapped the Count on the arm. “Speak, Count, 'tis your cue.”

Benedick grinned at the surprise on his friend's face. He nodded his approval at his wife's breaking of the moment when she rejoined him, though she remained standing.

Claudio found his voice. “Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much.” The Prince nodded his approval, and then Claudio turned to Hero. “Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give myself away for you and dote upon the exchange.”

Hero wanted to swoon, but she swallowed and composed herself. “As you know, I am my father's only heir; there are many traditions I dearly wish to see remain in practice in this house, and that is entirely dependent on my husband's will. If I accept you, how can I be sure that my kin and kilth are not imposed with supplanted traditions? A merging is only to be expected, but I cannot wed someone who will disregard the rich history of my father's house.”

He took a deep breath, but after a moment he nodded. “I understand; I had not thought of that consideration and that was badly done of me; I have watched many traditions be lost because a son would not respect them until it was too late to recover them. Lady, your loyalty to your father and his ancestors is not often seen in my fellows. Tell me of your traditions, and we shall keep them all alive for our children and theirs beyond, finding ways to combine yours with mine.”

Benedick watched carefully. He hoped his cousin would continue the inquiry, for as yet all she had was Claudio's word. And he hated to admit how little he trusted it where a woman's wishes were concerned.

Only Hero's own passions rendered her silent.

Beatrice suppressed a groan very badly and put out her cigarette as it no longer appealed to her. “Speak, cousin, or if you cannot stop his mouth with a kiss; let him speak neither.”

And Hero did, grabbing him into an embrace. Leonato popped the cork on the champagne.

Don Pedro laughed. “By my troth, Lady, you have a merry heart.”

Beatrice nodded slightly. “Yea, my Lord, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care, which hath served me well when my husband is away on an action.” When she felt Benedick's hand take hers and squeeze, she smiled only a little more, at least until she saw something that made her smile widely. “My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart.”

Hero and Claudio started. “And so she doth, cousin,” he announced, a little surprised that it would be spoken of.

While the couple accepted glasses, Beatrice mused aloud. “Good Lord, for alliance! How easily it could have been that everyone goes to the world but I, and I would be sunburnt. I might have sat in a corner and cried, 'Hey, ho, for a husband!'” She sat back in her former spot.

Only Benedick could hear the pain behind the mocking tone, and he hugged her silently. He did not like to think of that possibility any more than she. It had been far too close for either's comfort.

Don Pedro watched the couple, thoughtfully as he waited to collect glasses from Innogen. “Lady Beatrice, I would have got you one. Perhaps I would have played Cupid for the pair of you.”

In the security of Benedick's arms, Beatrice's wit made a strong return. “If you had made me that offer whilst I had despaired of Benedick, I think my anger and pride would have been such that I would have declared that I would rather have one of your father's getting, and asked whether your Grace hath a brother like you.”

As Don Pedro had secured glasses for the three of them, he laughed as he sat, imagining that conversation.

“Your father got excellent husbands, if a maiden could come by them.”

Don Pedro handed the glasses over as she spoke, but had to avert his eyes once Benedick began whispering in her ear. Not for the first time, he realized that had Beatrice still been unmarried, he would have offered for her as no other lady had even remotely intrigued him enough to consider letting go of bachelorhood. What a shame that she did not have a sister.

“My Lady Beatrice?” quietly called Maria. “Senor Benedick?”

The two turned and saw their children being led back in, looking utterly exhausted. Their two youngest were being carried in their sleep by Maria and Titus respectively, and the other three were rubbing their eyes and yawning. “By my lord's pardon,” Benedick quietly said. “They must be conveyed home, and I believe we are not required here.”

Don Pedro nodded, waving them off with his glass. He watched as the pair collected their children (after Benedick put out his cigarette) and allowed Titus to assist them. They left, with Beatrice quietly calling out, “Cousins, God give you joy!”

Once they were out of earshot, the Prince drained his champagne. “By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady! Benedick's the most fortunate man!”

Leonato let the Prince have the bottle to pour from. “There's little of the melancholy element about her, and most of it appears when news of the actions reach us. She's never sad but when she sleeps, and not even sad then for my daughter and some of the maids have reported she hath dreamt of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing.”

The men shared a laugh at the picture it painted. “I remember her from when she could not endure to hear tell of a husband.”

“No, indeed, my Lord. She mocked all of her suitors out of suit. I could not believe mine eyes when she started showing preference for Benedick, for I had been sure if they were but a week married they would talk themselves mad. Yet they make an undeniably good match.”

Don Pedro was struck by a notion. “I cannot believe I have not done this earlier. How now, Claudio?” he called out when he noticed that the couple had stepped to the side.

The couple hurried back, but it was clear they had not been quite so innocent as they ought to have been. He was now wearing her tiara, and her hair was not quite so orderly. Claudio needed a moment to realize his appearance and whip the item off, and Hero had to endure a moment's remonstration from her mother. Never mind that he was was now wearing a third of her lipstick.

The Prince decided to remain silent on that matter. “When do you mean to go to church?”

“Uh, tomorrow, my lord. Time goes on crutches till love has all its rites,” Claudio declared as he took Hero back into his arms.

Leonato waved a hand in patient dismissal. “Not till Monday, my son, which is but a week hence and all too soon a time to have all things looked after.”

Before Hero and Claudio could protest, Don Pedro interrupted. “Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake a labour that I ought to have done sooner. Claudio, you are able to attest that without Benedick's noble strain, approved valour and confirmed honesty the action would have gone poorly for us.”

Claudio nodded, his mood growing slightly grim. “There was more than one occasion where his quick wit allowed him to see what others could not in the coming moments; and I must own that many of my finest moments may not have happened without Benedick's wisdom.”

“And I have not properly rewarded him in his role as the unsung hero of this ended action, and perhaps for many others; his sharp mind and leadership are the true reasons we lost but few to this and many others actions, and must be acknowledged. I shall bestow upon Benedick a property that borders those which Beatrice inherited, with all the fortunes it commands, and with it a title on them and their heirs!”

They all cheered.

“This must happen in such a way as to surprise them, which shall be a feat inandof itself. Go in with me and I will tell you my drift.”

/=/=/=

Borachio watched as his lord fumed over the marriage going forward despite their scheming. His tightly-wound master could do himself a harm when his plans went awry. So he casually informed his lord that he could cross the match yet. He thought that the use of Margaret and her affection for himself was genius, and told him how.

Don John was very pleased, although his manner would not permit him to smile over it yet. “I would tell thee to throw this into practice at once, but I am concerned about the reaction of Benedick. I have seen him not permit ill talk of his own wife, and he hath shown to be protective over his cousin. Might he yet cross this plan?”

“I grant there is a risk, but we may use his honour to our own ends.”

“Show me briefly how.”

“When young Claudio doth accuse Hero, we may depend upon Benedick's honour to ensure that he shall challenge the Count to a duel. Think, my lord, of how well that suits your purposes. Should the Count prevail, the Lady Beatrice would stop at nothing to destroy him for killing her husband, and as we both know that she hath a fury beyond any imagining, would very likely succeed. But if I were to place a wager on the outcome, I should place mine dukets on the elder lieutenant of your brother; he is wiser, better in control of his emotions, hath experienced more in war, and would carry the fury of a man convinced of his relation's innocence. It is far more likely that Claudio would fall to Benedick's sword, which would undo Hero even as she is exonerated, shame Leonato for permitting the match, and force Benedick to carry the burden of having to kill a man he once called friend. How doth that for issue?”

Don John would have beamed if he were the sort. “Then do throw this into practice at once. Be cunning in the working and thy fee is... a thousand dukets.” The end was more of a question, given with a slightly nervous smile. As though wanting to ensure it met his man's approval.

“Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.”

“I will presently go learn their day of marriage.” He hit his man in approval, although the gesture was too stiff to be seen as natural.

Borachio merely watched his lord leave, and dragged another bout from his cigarette. He was looking forward to this mischief-making.

Chapter Three: Could Not Woo In Festival Terms

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D With thanks to bas_math_girl for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And I picked names out of my character name book. I was on a meaning kick, so that explains the five I chose. :)

And sykira, I'm trying hard to finish this ASAP. There are still chapters that need a little expanding, and RL has been keeping me busy. But I'll try to keep the chapters coming.

Chapter One / Chapter Two
DVD Extra the First

CHAPTER THREE: COULD NOT WOO IN FESTIVAL TERMS

With the children fed and engaged in various activities meant to further their education, Beatrice wondered where her husband had wandered off to. He had been extremely distracted, unusual for him when she wasn't the cause. Although with the planning for Hero and Claudio's wedding, it was not entirely unreasonable – they were being asked to assist in all aspects, and she knew Benedick still harboured doubts about the suitability of Claudio as a husband.

She never thought that she would feel grateful that she only had her uncle to deal with when she and Benedick were courting. Of course, their outlook was entirely different from her cousin's. It had not, however, kept their wedding small, as they had wished. No, for Benedick's family had to be fetched from Padua, and a union such as hers had to a public event in Leonato's opinion. And as governor

Meeting Benedick's family had made Beatrice a little uneasy. She would not change who she was for anyone, a vow strengthened as Benedick did not wish her to alter, but a new bride could not help but want her in-laws' approval. After all, she had no parents or siblings, so she wanted to maintain some connection with his family.

Indeed, her outspokenness had alarmed Benedick's parents and brothers, but he refused to permit any ill talk of his wife. And with his previous ranting and railing against marriage, they were reluctant to do anything that might make him return to such an attitude. So in the end, while Beatrice was not understood in the slightest, she was accepted and welcomed into the family.

She might have been more irritated by it had her husband's mother not been so enthused about the grandchildren who kept coming, The woman had also had no daughters, so Beatrice and her daughters seemed special to her. And given the rather overbearing manner of Benedick's father, Beatrice was not surprised by her husband's insistence on making her father's home their home. But she never truly looked forward to their visits, even when she could count on her uncle keeping her male in-laws occupied, and then her mother-in-law became easier to get along with.

The sounds of one of their children's musical toys reached her ears, making her frown. The children were all in other parts of the house. Why did the sound come from outside? She headed over and looked.

There was Benedick, leaning over the toy and playing with tunes, clearly amusing himself. Entertained at the unusual sight, she stepped out quietly.

He was so into his actions that he started drastically when she came into his sight, but he only fell back into the lounging chair. He knew better than to pretend he hadn't been doing anything with a toy. At her questioning look, he smiled wryly. “I came across some attempts of mine at rhyme from whilst we courted. Does thou remember those days?”

Beatrice's light laughter rang through the air. “We neither of us played the rules of courtship according to anyone else's standards. I even made efforts at sonnet writing – and was satisfied with none of them.”

“I neither with mine. I felt then that all those carpet-moungers whose names are so referred to were never so turned over and over as my poor self in love. I could not show it in rhyme, and I tried!” When she looked curious, he grimaced and closed his eyes. “I could find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for, 'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet.”

Her face twitched in laughter, but she held her tongue, knowing she had little room to speak. “We neither of us could woo in festival terms, husband. We came too close to not accepting each other.”

He took her hand in an instant, holding it tightly as the memory washed over both of them.

Beatrice stood listening to Benedick's speech, and it started out well. Words flowed freely between them until she sensed his words turning too close to her uncle's thinking. Her face tightened.

Benedick opened his mouth, and then he looked at the lady's face. He stopped and lowered his gesticulating hands. “Lady Beatrice, have I displeased you somehow?”

“Yea. Your words which flowed with wit like water over rocks now seem like the valiant dust that are so espoused by worthless men who rule over the land.”

He flinched. “You know I mean you no insult. I am nothing like my father.”

That caught her attention, and made her frown. “Then why spout the nonsense of your father and his ilk? You dare expect me to submit without question to the rule of a man?”

He was momentarily silent. “You are not merely speaking of the customs I have been brought up in. You are speaking of your uncle ruling over the lands and fortunes that are yours by right, that your kin and kith cannot live in their rightful homes because the law decrees there must be a master to rule over them, a man – whether he is related by blood to the previous lord or no.”

“So now you see where I live trapped, scorned, expected to meekly accept a ruler who I might not respect. Are there men who shall listen to women, who will accept that women may know more and have the right wisdom? If I cannot find such a man, then I should rather die a maiden condemned as a shrew than live in chains.” She turned to walk away. “Farewell.”

Something twisted inside Benedick at the thought of her not thinking well of him. He hurried to take her hand. “Tarry a moment, good Beatrice.”

She shook his hand off. “Do not try to bend me to your will.”

He held his hands away then, showing that he would respect her wish. “Please let me speak a moment, Lady Beatrice. You have made your reasons and opinions clear, now let me say my peace, if I may.”

She took a deep breath, and nodded as she exhaled. That was the closest she had ever heard him come to begging. “Then speak, I will hear you.”

He did not like the tension he saw in her posture, and felt even graver than he had thought possible when they had met only minutes before. “You must have watched the society and expectations I have been brought up in. Protecting ladies has become part of my instincts, and I would never force my company on any woman. Have I utterly insisted on speaking with you when you have made it plain you would go?”

Beatrice thought a moment. “No. Not even this moment counts, for you acted with respect and been more pleading with me than commanding.”

“Then know this: I do not wish for a meek woman who will abide by my every word. Why do you think I have not accepted any of the women my family have presented before me as possible wives? Why do you think I have railed against marriage before my friends and fellow men?”

“Because they have acted as fools because they will not bother themselves to know the lady before they offer for her? Her beauty, fortunes, and connections are more important than what sort of companions in life they shall make for each other?”

He nodded. “You have put it exactly as it is. Indeed, I do not think I would have ever considered marriage, no matter my family's insistence, before just a moment ago.”

Voicing the words took him by surprise, but they could not be unsaid. Nor was he sure he wished them unsaid.

Beatrice's eyes widened. “Senor, speak plainly. What is it you wish?”

It took him a long moment to pull together the words, which would have surprised him had the moment not been so serious or so foreign. “I believe... and feel that it is for the opportunity and permission to court you for your hand in honourable marriage.”

She gasped, utterly silenced.

He went for broke. “And to make your father's house our home.” At her continued disbelief, he took another deep breath to fortify his courage. “Messina is a lovely place, lovelier for your being from here. I do not wish to live near my family, for I have disagreed with them on many things. I would rather make my rich wife's home mine, and be a man for her sake so she may rule over what is rightly hers.”

Her breaths were erratic. “You would endure the scorn of your fellow men for supporting my rights? How can I be sure that you shall always act for my benefit than for what society demands of you?”

Male pride should have been offended by what he was thinking of doing, but he found no such feelings. The idea of losing her when she was possibly within his reach was too much to bear. He could not lose the chance to win... nay, earn her love. “That would be proved in the courtship, would it not? You need more time to trust me, and I need time to ensure that I will let go of habits and customs that would serve us ill. Will you permit me the chance to prove myself?”

Shaking from shock, she slowly nodded. She even let him take her hand to kiss it, thus sealing his promise.

Beatrice found a smile. “Lucky for us that we found each other, and can laugh at the follies of others when they try.”

He scowled, frustration coming out through his words in waves of scorn and anger. “Wife, I still do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by failing in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabour and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes.”

Beatrice groaned, leaning back on her lounger. “Hero is no better. Gone is the sensible girl who laughed at the posturing of men, who assume that they know what a woman wishes to hear and create words that are entirely wrong. Men do not know empty words are no better than foul words and foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore the women if they are wise shall depart unkissed.”

“Thou and I were always too wise to woo peaceably.”

“Or woo in festival terms. Now, husband, thou hast old paper in front of thee. Would those be fashioned of your brain for me?”

Not wanting to speak them aloud, he closed his eyes and handed them over. “You owe me a look at yours, wife. I should not be the only one so exposed.”

Beatrice's face took on several wild looks of shock and dismay. “Well, I believe mine were just as terrible. I have them kept away, for as much as I hated them I could not bear to toss them.”

Benedick reached toward her, silently asking with his eyes for her to sit beside him. She did, giving him a saucy smile that always left him feeling a little less in control of his actions. He gently drew her into an embrace that brought their faces very close. “It was all fortunate, for I doubt your answer would have been to my liking had you seen them then. Mine might have rightly made you angry at me.”

“And you could have proposed in a more romantic fashion, I suppose?” she teased with a huge smile.

He laughed with closed lips.

Their time was drawing near. Don Pedro was going to bring them off to another part of the realm within days, unless some business detained them longer. Which was leaving Benedick rather anxious.

Nearly every moment spared from training and his duties to the prince was spent in Beatrice's company. The others were in actions meant to test himself for his willingness to forsake the man's right to rule outright and respect her capable manner. The past weeks had been a revelation of assumptions for the both of them. He had seen hints of what she had in watching her uncle and aunt's relationship, and she had learned that a little subservience to him on occasion would likely help the futures of any children they might be blessed with. He had said nothing but words of support when she had expressed frustration that she had to play the games of society.

They met in the gardens, having quietly made the agreement. He knew that they had attracted considerable attention from everyone around them. Leonato had plainly noticed, and appeared to be in favor of the match if considerably surprised by it. Innogen smiled widely whenever they were together and enjoying each other's company. Hero, still far too young to be considered for marriage, watched them in awe of their banter. A few of the waiting gentlewomen were intrigued, and heaven knew what the most foolish of them joked about. But it was Don Pedro who was looking the most intrigued by their manners. He had made inquires of Benedick, trying to discern his intentions, but the younger man refused to answer them without a solid understanding between himself and Beatrice first. It seemed too risky.

He was waiting by the fountain, sitting and thinking in disgust over some of the jokes made that he was letting Beatrice rule him. Luckily for his mood, Beatrice appeared. He beamed. “Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?”

“Yea, Senor, and depart when you bid me,” she joked, knowing that she would not be so obliging.

Still he enjoyed the pretending. “Oh, stay but till then!”

“'Then' is spoken; fare you well now.”

He couldn't stop his silent laughter. Oh, she knew how to use his own words against him!

Beatrice turned back after just a few seconds. “No,” she whispered aloud with a smile. She happily stood beside him. “But you may explain why I am hearing that your manhood has been called into question without you retaliating. Ruled I do not wish for, but I cannot be for one who does not act as a man.”

“What, thou wouldst have me tell them I love thee no more than reason? Or claim that I am almost sick for thee?”

“As long as they do not claim I am well-neigh dead for you. Shall we claim that we merely love each other in friendly recompense?”

He laughed. “I am more likely to claim in anger that I would have thee, but in some light that it was for pity.”

She snorted. “I would likely not deny you, but would say that by this good day, I yield under great persuasion and partly to save your life, for I was told your were in a consumption.”

As much of a jest as it was, he felt a tiny sting. It was likely what drove him to stand. “Peace!” He smiled, feeling very mischievious. “I would then stop your mouth.”

“How? By ordering me to be silent?”

“More likely I would do this.” He cupped her face and kissed her.

He would later swear his doing so had partly been driven by their banter, but soon their arms were around each other and they lost all track of time.

Only the sound of one of Leonato's men nearby carrying a heavy object forced them to part. They stared in dazed shock at each other, each keeping their hands off the other to prevent a renewal. Both were blushing as they realized they had nearly touched places that only married people should know.

Benedick cleared his throat. “Beatrice,” he slightly squeaked. He recovered the rest of his voice. “Have I done enough to earn your consent to be bound together?” He hated how uncertain he sounded, but he'd learnt he could never assume where she was concerned and so he used the more formal address instead of the familiar he longed to use.

Beatrice's lack of breath nearly prevented her from answering, but she managed to recover enough to speak. “Tis apparent that you have endured teasing and possibly lost favours from your actions, and even avoided gatherings in favour of being in my company. I cannot imagine any of those men helping you pull off such a charade, nor can I imagine you putting one on. Will you come with me to my uncle then, Senor?”

He could have cheered for joy, but suppressed it. Instead, he took her hands in his. “I will live in thy heart...”His weighted gaze held hers captive. “...die in thy lap...” Which made her blush, although her still looking him in the eye emboldened him. “...and be buried in thy eyes.”

They nearly kissed again, but another sound from the distance snapped them to remember propriety. “And moreover I will go with thee to thy uncle's,” he added in a rush, and they hurried hand in hand to locate Leonato.

The look exchanged said that each remembered going as partners to her uncle and stating their intentions. It had begun an awful melody of planning and preparation that had nearly driven both insane until the wedding night, which was a more welcome form.

The temptation to enjoy each other's company was too great, and they embraced warmly.

Their kissing was interrupted by the sounds of shouting. They groaned as they parted. “Beatrice, tell me they have not been so bad with my absence.”

“I think the wedding is causing this.”

They rushed off to restore order to the household.


Chapter Four: To Break Upon Them

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D With thanks to bas_math_girl for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And I picked names out of my character name book. I was on a meaning kick, so that explains the five I chose. :)

And sykira, I'm trying hard to finish this ASAP. There are still chapters that need a little expanding, and RL has been keeping me busy. But I'll try to keep the chapters coming.

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three
DVD Extra the First

CHAPTER FOUR: TO BREAK UPON THEM

It was the night before the wedding, and madness seemed to have fallen over Messina.

Beatrice was not pleased about where she was. She had had to ensure her children were off to bed so she could answer the summons to attend to her cousin tonight. Innogen wished for Hero to learn a little of what she should expect to see and feel upon marriage, and thus they were to attend a local club. Knowing the look on Margaret's face, a dancer would be involved.

The ginger-haired matron anticipated no pleasure in the evening. She tried to stay out of the joking that was bordering on inappropriate, especially in her aunt's presence. She could only imagine what Margaret would let loose when she thought their elder escorts, Innogen and Ursula, were not looking.

“Margaret!” cried Hero. “Put that away!”

The gentlewoman just smiled, as though the angel wings she had slipped on were an accurate representation of herself. “Tis the only time a lady could never be accused of doing wrong in wearing such, other than a revel after marriage.”

Beatrice looked up and groaned. “Are you out of your wits, Fool? To have Hero wear a red veil with horns like a devil's? To risk her reputation?!”

“My Lady Beatrice!” cried Margaret. “I suggest only in merriment, for my Lady is to learn a little of what to expect.”

Beatrice laughed. “It is hardly representative of marriage,” she snapped. Certainly she could not imagine Benedick even acting such as she knew the dancer would for her sake in their chamber, behind closed doors. “One little thing can sometimes ruin a lady. It takes only one man to ruin a lady, but three to ruin a man; and yet that is not assured! The risk of her enduring slander is too great!”

“Peace, Cos!” cried Hero as she grabbed the red veil and threw it to the side. “I know well enough of the dangers to my reputation of maiden modesty. Good Meg, find me a white one.”

Maria approached in a hurry. “Put that red veil away, Margaret! Our Lady Innogen comes, and she expects us to be ready very soon.”

Margaret sighed and followed the suggestion from Maria and the order from Hero. She had hoped that if it had already been done, the Lady Innogen would accept it.

Beatrice eyed her carefully. She suspected that Margaret would still make some mischief before the night was over. She had certainly exhibited signs of it when she began as a gentlewoman in the house ten years before.

Hero seized Beatrice's hand and whispered. “Cos, what happened on thy night when Mother did this for you? Did thou enjoy thyrself? Did it prepare thee for the marriage bed?”

She took her cousin's hand in both of hers. “Nay, I did not enjoy the events planned for me. I imagine much the same as what was planned for me hath been for thee. They exist for the hope of making the bride more relaxed for her wedding night, but I found myself tense. It was only my husband's patience and tenderness, along with the knowledge that he would never hurt me, that allowed me the peace I required on mine wedding night.” She blushed in memory of the night. "Secure that trust, sweet Hero, and that shall take you far.”

Hero embraced her. She understood that her cousin was not like her, but she also knew there was a wisdom of ten years being married to a soldier that she could benefit from. She drew back with a sigh. “I do hope there shall be some enjoyment tonight for thee, Cos.”

Innogen and Ursula appeared. “Daughter, Niece, it is time. Shall we go on?”

Hero was silent. Beatrice had to prod her with a gentle tap on the arm and a smile. “Tis your cue. Hero. Lead us on, if my company is required.”

Innogen looked at her. “Oh, niece, surely this shall be better than your night.”

“Are such revels truly enjoyed by all women, aunt? Does a lady really wish to stare at flesh that is not her intended's, no matter how acceptable the occasion might be? No, aunt, I'll have no pleasure in tonight till I am reunited with mine husband.”

Sighing, Innogen decided there was no arguing with Beatrice. “Well, come and support your cousin.”

Margaret finishing fixing the white veil on Hero's head, and then hurried off, motioning that she needed to do one last thing.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, certain that the gentlewoman would return with something else entirely inappropriate. She took Hero's arm and escorted her along. “Remember, Cousin, to act with at least some decorum. I am sure you shall be encouraged into some not so ladylike actions.”

Hero giggled nervously. “I doubt you have to worry, Cos. I am uncertain how far I should dare act.”

They were all about to leave when Margaret suddenly ran past them, shrieking for joy and carrying something over her head.

Innogen's eyes widened. “She is not...” She could not finish the sentence.

Hero closed her eyes. “Oh, Meg,” she muttered, before chasing her gentlewoman.

Her mother and Ursula followed, with Maria closing after them. Beatrice sighed and kept a pace that did not let her be left too far behind.

/=/=/=/

Benedick was certain that madness and stupid male traditions were the only explanation for the chaos around him. It did not help that he was forced to join the men at the local pub to 'celebrate' Claudio's final night of bachelorhood. He had his suspicions of what Don Pedro had in mind and what would come.

He only hoped he could escape before he had to witness much more than he already had. Too many of the men were already well into their cups, and would surely be further along soon enough. In the interests of remaining fairly sober, he was alternating between lagers and soda. He also kept to another table, wondering when his uncle would be 'encouraged' to leave so the lady of the evening could be brought in.

Although he paid attention to his surroundings, he wondered what forms of madness Beatrice was stuck with.

A feminine shriek caught his ears. For a moment he thought the 'entertainment' had arrived early. But then he noticed Margaret running along, carrying what looked to him like one of those inflatable dolls. His eyebrow lifted in confusion. What did that woman do in her spare time?!

On second thought, he did not want to know.

Hero, upon coming into view seemed displeased to trying to tell her gentlewoman to stop it, but sadly Margaret's tendencies were not easily suppressed. One by one a chase seemed to follow. First Hero chased Margaret, then Innogen chased after her daughter, and then Ursula ran after with one shoe in her hand. Poor woman needed to rethink her footwear if she kept having to remove one shoe. Benedick shook his head in amusement and raised his soda for a drink, but stopped mid-motion.

Slowly strolling in her purple dress with sandals instead of heels was Beatrice. She was lost in thought, her hands in the hidden dress pockets, until her eyes met her husband's.

He lowered his glass, held out a hand and begged with his eyes.

She was only too happy to slip to his side. “Have the male revels begun?” she whispered.

“Not yet. I have been looking for a way out. Will thou provide me with one?”

“I could be easily persuaded, as the female revels hold no appeal for me.” She curled into his lap and they began kissing.

Sadly for them, Maria came along and tapped on Beatrice's arm. “My lady, your aunt and cousin await you.”

Benedick nearly snapped at her to go on without his wife. Only Hero appeared in a rush and outright tugged Beatrice out of Benedick's lap. “I am not going through this without you, Cos,” she said.

Beatrice's longing look toward her husband left him exhaling through his mouth. He almost ran after them.

Only Don Pedro's voice froze him in place. “I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Aragon.”

Claudio interrupted his own drinking to respond, without thinking, “I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me.”

Don Pedro waved his words aside, yet not tipping the ridiculous drink with a sparkler he held. He spoke of the stain that would be on a mew marriage, adding, “When Benedick married I gave him two months leave to secure his position, only calling him back when a new action was required.” He continued, after just barely putting the drink down in front of Benedick – who did not want the drink, for it was hardly to his tastes – and carrying on about what fine company Benedick was and how much he would miss it.

Benedick chose to remain silent. When the Prince was this far in his cups, any comment would likely encourage him to carry on. He hoped someone would bring a change in the subject.

He was sadly mistaken. “I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit one day before you declared your intentions. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: 'True,' said she, 'a fine little one.' 'No,' said I, 'a great wit:' 'Right,' says she, 'a great gross one.' 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit:' 'Just,' said she, 'it hurts nobody.' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman is wise:' 'Certain,' said she, 'a wise gentleman.' 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the tongues:' 'That I believe,' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy,” the Prince concluded with a teasing smile, his words making Claudio and even Leonato laugh.

Benedick stood in disgust, not liking the reminder of his former follies. “Uncle, walk aside with me; I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak with you, which these hobby-horses must not hear.” He was pleased that Leonato gladly walked with him, and intended to step aside to free Beatrice from her obligations as soon as he had fulfilled his oath that secured his absence.

Don Pedro laughed. “For my life, to break with him about the change in his life.”

Claudio nearly pontificated on what he thought would be Benedick and Beatrice's reactions, but the other men drew his attention to see that a dancer had come in. Cheers and catcalls began as she started her special form of taunting a man.

To the side, Don John watched patiently. He would wait until both this entertainment was concluded and for Borachio to seek Margaret to begin their deception. “Let the Count have his moment,” he murmured. “Soon his happiness shall be destroyed, and mine secured.”

/=/=/=/

Beatrice's dismay over the proceedings was nearly complete. She had to watch in disapproval as the gentlewomen (particularly Margaret) made fools of themselves over the dancer, in a little horror as her aunt only blushed a little over the dancer's actions, and Hero alternating between being a blushing maiden and screaming as much as Margaret. The dancer had even made an effort to include her, but she quickly stepped to the side to stay out of it.

Claiming an entire bottle of alcohol for herself, she slowly sipped from a rocks glass and stayed as far out of it as she felt she could get away with. She had tried to step fully away more than once, but it seemed like every time someone noticed and all but dragged her back.

“Bored, my wife?”

Beatrice nearly jumped in her shoes at the sound of her husband's voice. But she smiled anyway. “How did you find us?”

“I took a chance to escape, and questioned one of our gentlewomen. I shall not be alone any longer tonight.” He noticed that Hero was starring in transfixed shock as the dancer finished his routine, and frowned slightly at the sight.

Innogen turned and gasped, rushing over. “Nephew!” she hissed. “You should not be here!”

“I do not see my wife enjoying herself, and that is not something I wish to see. I require her company, aunt.” He drew Beatrice against him, letting the method imply his thoughts and their impatience.

Under any other circumstances, Beatrice would have protested being manhandled in public even by her own husband. But she yearned for an escape and he was her knight in shining armor providing one. Besides, she could probably use the certain implications of whatever Claudio's night involved to encourage her aunt to release her. “Aunt, I do believe mine husband is going to disrupt your evening should you attempt to keep me here.”

“Quite,” was Benedick's clipped response before he swept his wife into a bridal hold, making her squeal.

Innogen opened her mouth, but her protest died on her lips. Her niece really wasn't enjoying the night, and so she sighed. “Very well, we shall do without her.”

Not that they were listening. He had moved much faster than she had ever seen him. Good lord, had watching whatever bawdiness that was Claudio's last bachelor night inflamed Benedick for his own wife's body?!

Shaking her head, she returned to her daughter's side. She would explain Beatrice's absence when she had to. Not that it looked like Hero or the gentlewomen had even a clue. She supposed they could do with one fewer person for the night. After all, what could go wrong?


Chapter Five
or
DVD Extra the Second

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D With thanks to bas_math_girl for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And I picked names out of my character name book. I was on a meaning kick, so that explains the five I chose. :)

And sykira, I'm trying hard to finish this ASAP. There are still chapters that need a little expanding, and RL has been keeping me busy. But I'll try to keep the chapters coming. This one's short, but sweet. I hope...

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second

CHAPTER FIVE: GOODLY CATCHING OF COLD

Hero's nerves had been climbing steadily ever since waking. She was feeling overheated from anxiety, and needed champagne in order to help steady her unease. She snapped at her gentlewomen, even over Margaret's efforts to calm her with some naughty teasing. But only talk of how special marriage was finally eased Hero's heart and allowed her to smile freely.

Satisfied that she had done her job, Margaret noticed possible support. “Ask my Lady Beatrice, here... she... comes,” she trailed off in concern.

Beatrice entered in her blue dress, ready for the wedding. She was flanked by her daughters, Rufine holding a clutch for her and Sienna holding a large collection of tissues. The girls stared at their mother in evident alarm, and neither Hero nor Margaret could fault them for Beatrice looked pale indeed.

“Good morrow, Cos,” Hero greeted, her tone almost more of a question.

Easing herself to the ground near Hero's veil, Beatrice breathed, “Good morrow, sweet Hero.”

“How now, do you speak in a sick tune?”

“I am out of all other tunes.” Beatrice tried to smile, but it did nothing to soothe her daughters' faces.

“Clap us into 'Light of love, light of love',” sang Margaret. “That goes without a burden. You sing it and I'll dance it. My younger Ladies, shall you join me?”

Beatrice prevented either of her girls from answering, although she took the water Rufine had located and offered her. “It is twelve o'clock, cousin, it is time you were ready.”

Hero and Margaret's slight disbelieving sounds combined with Heros' gestures to ask whether Beatrice herself was ready despite her dress.

“By my troth I am exceeding ill. Hey, ho,” she moaned before taking a careful sip.

Margaret's mind started churning as she looked more carefully at Beatrice's face. “For a hawk, a horse, or your husband?”

Hero gestured for caution, as there were two young girls right there. But Beatrice didn't seem to notice. “What means the fool?”

“Nothing, but god grant everyone their deepest desire.” She gasped as Beatrice, obviously cold, gathered part of Hero's train around her.

“Mother,” Rufine asked in concern, “are you truly better? Should you have rested as Father asked you to?”

“Tis my obligation to be present for our cousin. I promised your father that I would rest after, and that we would leave the celebrations early.”

Hero, noting how alarmed both of her young attendants seemed, chose to use a distraction. “These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent purfumed.” She waved them near her cousin's head.

“I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell,” Beatrice snapped, with little force as it seemed she needed all her strength to remain sitting upright.”

Margaret's eyes began to gleam as she walked over. “A wife and stuffed? There's goodly catching of cold!”

Beatrice groaned as Margaret sat, the children's eyes wide with confusion. She failed to note Hero's blinking eyes even while putting on her gloves. “Oh god help me. Oh god help me! How long have you professed apprehension?”

“Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?” Margaret nearly preened, waiting to see the reaction.

“It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.”

Rufine looked helplessly at Hero and Margaret. “Mother has been unwell since she woke. I heard my father call for help, and it seemed the physician was about to be called when Mother overrode him. He accepted her wishes, but was reluctant to part from her. He even pleaded with her to let him make her excuses so she could rest. But Mother tasted the solid cream after breakfast and Father bade me follow her lest she begged prayer at the porcelain alter.”

Sienna nodded. “Mummy not move quick. Mummy very unwell.” She stroked her mother's fringe in concern, drawing a smile from the lady.

Margaret's eyes shone bright with realization. “Why, I would think your mother hath had perhaps too much of this medicine, cardis benedictis.”

Hero turned with wide eyes. But before she or the girls could ask, Beatrice let out a loud sneeze.

Margaret laughed triumphantly. “It may be perhaps the cause for a qualm when administered in great doses.”

“Will thoust prick her with a thistle?” Hero hissed in warning, even as she kept her eyes on her cousin.

“Benedictis?” Beatrice sneezed again. “Why benedictis?” Another one. “You have some moral in this 'benedictis'?” Yet another.

Even Hero's eyes showed comprehension. The girls just stared between their mother and the gentlewoman, trying to make sense of the words. What did something that sounded like their father's name have to do with their mother's sickness?

“Moral? No, by my troth I have no moral meaning with this cardis... benedictis.” When Beatrice sneezed again, Margaret laughed and rejoined Hero. “I meant plain holy-thistle.” She could not resist teasing the lady on behalf of Hero, with perhaps the chance to begin instruction of the ways of the world for the young Lady Rufine. “You may perchance that I think you carry the fruit of love within, nay by'r lady I am not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list not to think what I can, nor indeed what I cannot think, if I would my heart out of thinking, that you do bear fruit again, or that you will bear fruit again, or that you can bear fruit again. Yet... Benedick...”

In the midst of Margaret's increasingly smug words, Beatrice felt woozy and hid herself under Hero's long veil, praying that it would cease. Only it did not, and she sneezed again at the sound of her husband's name. She cursed Margaret in her head, not daring to let it pass her lips.

Margaret's grin turned even wider, especially as Hero slowly began to join her in the joy hidden behind the teasing. “... was such another and now he is become a man in every sense: he once swore he would never marry, and yet his heart now returns with the plainest joy to only eat his meat at home and to plant; and how you were converted I know not, but methinks it is so that you look with your body as other women do their eyes!”

“What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?!” shouted Beatrice, flinging the veil off as she was growing warmer than she liked.

Margaret noted that while Sienna was still naturally baffled, Rufine was showing signs of comprehending what might to in her and her siblings' futures. She lowered her voice to a calm measure. “Not a false gallop.”

Ursula hurried back into the room, stopping for a moment when she saw Beatrice's form lying over Hero's train. “Madam, I am to fetch you. The prince, the count, Don John, Senor Benedick and-”

Hero and Margaret held their hands up, holding their breaths.

Beatrice's sneeze was the loudest yet.

Cheers erupted from Hero and Margaret. They felt vindicated.

“And all the gallants of town are come!” Ursula added.

Hero's nerves returned. “Help to dress me, good Meg.”

Margaret nodded, and she was quickly aided by Maria in setting Hero up.

Ursula helped Beatrice to her feet, respectfully helped her dust herself off, and then led her to secure some tea to soothe her stomach and nose. She, too, recognized the signs, but her focus was to help the Lady whom she had helped raise until she returned to her father's house.

Rufine and Sienna breathed sighs of relief. Their mother was in good hands. Now they had to endure being part of the spectacle of their cousin's wedding. At least few eyes would be on them given that Hero would set foot into the room first.

Chapter Six: Honour and Challenges

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D
Author's Note: Here comes the start of the angst. I hope Benedick is everything you could hope for, my friend.



Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second

CHAPTER SIX: HONOUR AND CHALLENGES

Benedick's eyes scanned the church as the notables of the town began to fill the room. The day had come at last, and he would be grateful when this madness was over. His uncle's household had gone beyond what had been managed for the wedding over a decade ago, but it was only fair since Beatrice was only Leonato's niece and Hero his daughter.

The only thing that puzzled him was how grim Claudio and the Prince looked. He hoped that waking after lengthy drinking had sobered the Count to the seriousness of his upcoming duties as a husband. As to what caused their lord's manner, he supposed that the Prince had been almost equally merry, for Don Pedro did love his drink. It made him grateful he had escaped when he did.

Only two other things caused him concern. One was Don John's almost calm manner, which was virtually unheard of. It made Benedick wonder if that Count was plotting mischief. The other was the Constable and his assistant speaking with Leonato and how the governor dismissed them without actually hearing what criminals were to be examined. What if it had been something serious? He wished that he had been able to intercept them and draw the answer out of them, although it would have been difficult to do so without being outwardly disrespectful toward his uncle who did earn some reverence from him.

Time was drawing too near for the wedding to start. He and the boys were there, dressed in their formal clothes representing Beatrice’s House. Benedick had not worn his father's seal since his wedding to Beatrice; after the exchange of vows, he had been assisted in ceremonially removing the sash of his father's House and replacing it with a sash carrying Beatrice’s crest and House colors. He had not seen Beatrice’s eyes shine with so much light or love before, or received such an impulsive kiss from her, and he did not see that look again until their twins were placed in her arms.

He looked proudly at his sons wearing formal white suits, made in miniature form of his dress uniform. A sash matching his graced each of them, and they proudly wore their respective metal Dress swords at their sides, much like he did. They had been eager to learn how to handle a sword, even copying his moves whenever he practiced. He had set a little challenge before them, a test to see whether they were able to handle the requirements of even a child's practice sword. At Beatrice’s urging, it was also set before Rufine, since she felt a girl should know how to use a sword if necessary, and would be set before Sienna when she was old enough.

That had been a slight surprise when he married her, learning that her aunt had been taught to fence and had secretly taught Beatrice herself. So it opened a whole other arena for them to engage in their merry war: sword practice. He wore a few white marks from scars she had given him during their practices, and even she bore a few from when her skill forced him to not hold back so much. Good times, he mused with a smile.

As the adults signaled that the time was nearly upon them, the boys seated by their friend, Bruno, son of Maria (daughter of Ursula and Angelo, of Leonato's House). Seemed Bruno had brought his special game device, and was showing something off until his mother put a stop to their fun by taking the item away. Good thing, for Don John had started making sharp remarks toward them.

The sight reminded him painfully of what Beatrice had rescued Maria from. Right around their marriage, Maria had started as Beatrice's waiting gentlewoman. But one night she was found paying homage to the porcelain alter when none would have expected her to. When the physician checked on her and she was asked questions, the horrifying truth came out: she had been drugged and beguiled. Bruno was the result, and her pregnancy prevented her from marrying the widower Balthazar as planned. Only Beatrice's insistence on not removing Maria from her place kept her and Bruno from true abject poverty, but they remained at the bottom of the servants' social structure because of Maria's unmarried state. Without a confession from the man who placed her and Bruno in that terrible state, Maria could not marry or formally educate her son – even though all of both Houses knew that she had not been at fault.

It was not something Benedick or Beatrice could let lie, so they quietly arranged for Bruno to learn to read and write, and let him be a playmate to their children, who had been enlisted in the efforts to ensure Bruno received enough of an education to be able to serve a house one day. He showed a keen mind, and had every bit of loyalty that his family showed, which pleased his mother and provided a measure of comfort. And Benedick promised his wife to honor her demand for recompense when they found who had left her gentlewoman in such a state.

He did not mention that he had also promised Bruno that he would be allowed to confront the villain himself. Nor that he had a growing suspicion as to who the villain was. He would never make an accusation without proof.

Benedick took a deep breath and turned his eyes to scan the room. But where was Beatrice?

Suddenly she hurried in, still looking too pale. He briskly joined her, stopping to gaze into her eyes in silent inquiry.

She was breathing heavily, and then sneezed on him, drawing attention to them both.

Oh, he had seen this before. And it was not like she had brought anything noticeable up this time, so he waved off her attempt to clean after herself and instead hugged her briefly before gently escorting her to their front row seats. Had there not been such a public setting, he would have rested a hand briefly against her belly. An affirmation, not a question.

Innogen picked up the program that awaited Beatrice, and offered it to her. “Niece, are you well?” she whispered.

“I shall be,” was Beatrice's answer as she and Benedick began to sit.

But the wedding march started, making them pop to standing before their bums could meet their respective chairs. He kept a hand on her back to comfort and steady her, just in case.

They looked back and smiled as they saw Sienna trailing the procession. Despite being only two, she was determined to act like a proper lady. She was even carrying the pillow in a balanced way. The rings had been tied securely just in case she did tilt the pillow as a child her age would be liable to, but she was doing her family proud. Her parents exchanged soft grins over their little girl's actions and they clasped hands tenderly.

Their other daughter trailed Hero and Leonato as she held the back of the train. In her pink dress that matched her sister's, she looked every bit the lady of an honorable house. Not even Benedick's male relations could have found fault in her, as little as they understood about his choices. And for the first time, Rufine's mother could accept that she was a girly girl. Once Hero was ready and at Claudio's side, Rufine joined Sienna in standing nearby yet behind them.

Almost right away, Claudio's tone and words put Benedick on his guard. Beatrice could tell simply by how his grip on her hand changed subtly, but she was more focused on learning why the Count suddenly did not seem so keen on Hero.

Rufine kept a hand on Sienna's shoulder to calm her, but adjusted it to wrap around both shoulders as Claudio moved a little with Hero's hand in his, sensing that something was about to happen. She barely had the chance to draw her sister back as Hero was thrust into Leonato's arms with a barrage of words that Sienna could not follow except to know that unjust words were being thrown in Hero's face, but Rufine understood every word.

The girls' brothers, their father's sons in every respect, flew from their seats to stand between their sisters and the madness. If they had been taught anything it was to ensure their sisters were safe when things became uncertain. No matter what the law and tradition and their male relations said, their father had often informed them, women could be far superior to men in managing the affairs of a family and their right to choose and to acquire an education must be protected. Adrian, as the eldest boy, took this very seriously and tried his best to shield all of his siblings from the possible danger the man they had thought was to be their cousin suddenly appeared to be.

Benedick and Beatrice stood in shock, unable to believe their eyes or ears. They listened in disbelief as Claudio denied ever tempting Hero, and accused her of being less like Dian and more like Venus. That accusation was enough to draw them both into action, now firmly aware that it was no nightmare but actually happening. A mere glance at their horrified children confirmed that. It was time to demand answers for Claudio's unthinkable turnaround. Beatrice rushed to Hero's side, trying to protect her and not entirely sure how good a job her uncle would do.

“Claudio!” The explosive word stunned the room into silence even as Benedick stepped firmly between accuser and accused. “Whence these accusations against my cousin?! I hath known her far longer than you and you dare to say she is of a character I know is against her nature? A nature my wife, having known Hero from the lady's birth, could attest to? What right doth thou to speak so in front of my children?!”

Hero, alarmed further by her cousin standing so angrily against Claudio when passions were already running strong, spoke in the faint hope of lessening the moment. “Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?”

Benedick shook his head. “Even if he be so there is no excuse for speaking so ill against a sweet and innocent lady!”

“Innocent?” cried Claudio. “You speak with a brother's love, Benedick, which is blind to a sister's faults.”

“You and your words would challenge my judgement and Leonato's! Call you into question the character and reverence of the governor?! Of every person who had a hand in raising her from infancy?”

The words allowed Leonato the strength to speak, but he chose to address Don Pedro. “Sweet Prince, why speak thou not?”

Don Pedro had been ready to speak at once, utterly determined to join in the denouncement. But Benedick's jumping to Hero's defense meant that he had to speak in a more measured tone. So he kept his voice quiet and calm, although his tone was grim. “What should I speak? I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about to link my dear friend to a common stale.”

Beatrice, clutching Hero's hands, heard her children's cries of disbelief. Her three oldest she knew understood what the accusation was. But what caught her attention was not their shock nor Hero's horror at being so accused. It was how her husband whirled to face Don Pedro, looking for all intents and purposes the one betrayed. She knew he held the Prince in high esteem, and so to hear this had to be impossible to believe.

Leonato could not hold his shock within. “Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?”

“Sir,” said Don John, rising to standing behind Innogen, “they are spoken, and these things are true.”

“'True'?” cried Hero. “O God!”

The thought was echoed by many in the room, with varying emotions.

Claudio took advantage of the silence. “Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?”

“All this is so, but what of this, my lord?” breathed Leonato.

“Let me but move one question to your daughter, and by that fatherly and kindly power that you have in her, bid her answer truly.”

Benedick held up his hand. “Claudio, you have not the right to demand such of Leonato.” He knew he had to act quickly. His mind had worked quickly, and he suspected he knew what had happened and who was at fault. The trouble was that an intended victim of the plotting had to be addressed before he could go after the author of all.

“Nephew, what mean you?”

Turning to face Leonato, Benedick knew he had to use every power of his wit to bend Leonato to the thinking that he ought to have been wedded to from the start. He knew his uncle subscribed far too much to the sort of thinking that would cast off a daughter at the wrong word. Therefore he had to use what he could whilst remaining respectful to the governor's position.

“How often hath you been told that Hero is like you in mind and body? You held her from when she was but a babe newly born from her honourable mother. How often have you said that whilst you mourned not having a son, you were delight'd by and lov'd your child? When my two eldest were born you spoke in praise of the joy of a daughter a father could claim, how it could overwhelm and draw such pride from the heart. None who watched you rule your house would say you did anything other than what a father ought toward his daughter, and here stand three men who would challenge the result of your ways, of your ancestors'? Uncle, to bow before their demand no matter their station is to accept their claims as true when your soul must know Hero well enough to know that God gave you a virtuous child who is innocent of what she stands accus'd. Hath not God provided thee with all the proofs required to know that Hero is a maiden?”

Beatrice's eyes widened. Her husband was no flatterer, but he had managed to use their uncle's vanity for Hero's sake. Now for him to demand Hero answer the question would be against his family's honor. Her husband was a miracle maker!

Don Pedro shook his head, trying to ignore the sting of Benedick's words. “Upon my honour she is charg'd with nothing but what is true, and very full of proof.”

Leonato breathed slowly, staring between Don Pedro and Benedick. At last he turned fully to the latter. “There thou speak'st reason and wisdom far beyond thy young years, nephew; nay, I have seen proofs enough as you hath said. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied. Benedick, thy wife was raised almost as a daughter in my house, and such makes thee the nearest I hath to a son. I charge thee to act as Hero's brother and defend her maiden truth; know the full authority of Messina is at thy disposal.”

“It shall be done,” Benedick declared, standing taller even as he knew Leonato had made things more dangerous. But it put him at liberty to act as he saw fit. “Her accusers say they saw proof that she hath no claim to the title of maiden, but I have heard nothing that cannot be dismissed as a grave misunderstanding; nay, given the drink that I know flowed freely yesternight I doubt that any actually saw my cousin's face. To accuse without such a proof is an action that I would not have believed possible from two men who I had thought had the very bent of honour! You besmirch yourselves in accusing her!”

That shocked all of Hero's accusers. Don John knew he should not join in yet, as Benedick's anger would likely turn on him and determine him to be the author of all. That had to be avoided at all costs. He could only hope that his brother would keep his name out of it for the time being. But he noted the Senor's words hinting that he suspected there was more to the story than had yet been said, and tried to not attract any further attention to himself.

Claudio raised a hand in protest, pointing at Hero. “But she doth not deny it!”

“Because you do not ask the right question!” snapped Benedick. “Cousin, what man is he you are accus'd of?”

The support gave her the strength to rally her spirits and stand tall. “They know that do accuse me; I know none! If I know more of any man alive than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, prove you that any man with me convers'd at hours unmeet, or that I yesternight maintain'd the change of words with any creature, refuse me, hate, torture me to death!”

Benedick turned to face Claudio. “Her words leave me no choice, Claudio. Shall I speak a word in your ear?”

That silenced the room. Only Don John held a hint of a smile.

Don Pedro and Claudio stared in shock. They knew as well as any of the men that if Benedick suddenly went from yelling to calm, it meant his anger had crossed into a far more dangerous place. They would rather he were ranting, for in that he was not in the cold grip of vengeance.

However, honour demanded that Claudio step forward. “God bless me from a challenge,” he murmured, just loud enough to carry.

“You are a villain.”

Claudio squawked.

“I jest not. I will make you good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare. Do me right or I will protest your cowardice. You with your words would kill the sweet and innocent lady you had declared you would have as your wife, and if your soul hath any honour left her death would weigh heavy on you. I demand your answer now.”

“You cannot be sincere!” Claudio protested.

“Look at him!” shouted Beatrice, pointing at Claudio. “Is he not approved in the height a villain, that would slander, scorn, dishonour my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until you come to take hands, and then with public accusation, unmitigated rancour – O God that I were a man! I would eat your heart in the market-place! And doth thou forget accusing myself and my husband of speaking falsely but a week past?!”

Benedick was near enough to grab Beatrice's hand, though only to remind her that it was his place to act as the man. “Indeed, sweet Beatrice, he hath sinned greatly; and he should be grateful, far more than I, that thou art not a man. I had been waiting for an opportune moment to remind Claudio of that sin, but there appears no better time than now.”

Don Pedro took a step forward, seeing Benedick's increasingly calm manner and willingness to refer in the slightest jest to something that even he was alarmed by. He had no doubt that Claudio would already be dead had Beatrice been a man, and he suspected that Claudio was dimly aware of it, being in shock from such an address from the lady. “Benedick, my and Claudio's dispute is not with thee.”

“I am afraid you hath with your words and actions made it mine, Prince.” He paused to take a steadying breath and to draw an envelope from the inside of his jacket. “My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you; I must discontinue your company.” He proffered it to Don Pedro.

That simple action silenced the entire room completely. For as long as any in Messina had known him, Benedick's honour had bound him to the service of the Prince. For him to have already had a letter prepared, he was in earnest and had contemplated the action for a long time, even consulted with Beatrice given her lack of surprise at the letter, before his hand was forced by the events of the moment.

Don Pedro realized in an instant that there was one more reason. Benedick was freeing himself from any conflicting demands of loyalty before he pushed the challenge to a point of no return. And it also said that he felt that he could no longer serve him with honour. Gutted, he numbly took the envelope.

He failed to notice his brother's increasing unease even in the midst of a tiny smile over seeing one of the great lieutenants leave Don Pedro's service.

Benedick turned to Claudio, sending the full weight of his glare on the younger man. “Give me your answer, boy, or I shall subscribe you at once a coward who misled your lord to help you out of a marriage you suddenly felt unequal to.”

Claudio's face contorted with fury. “There can be only one answer for that! The inner courtyard, in an hour! Have your sword ready!”

“I will be there early, my Lord Lackbeard,” vowed Benedick.

The words left a chill over the room as the guests were hurriedly escorted out. Don Pedro led Claudio away, clearly uneasy about the turn of events. It was perhaps fortunate that he did not take note of his brother's almost cheerful mood as he followed.

Once only the immediate family remained, Sienna began crying. She sensed danger even if she couldn't name it, and her siblings all looked as frightened as she.

Benedick swooped to scoop his youngest into his arms, making shushing noises into her ear. When it did little to calm her, he sighed and reached to comfort Ignac. He knew all of his children grasped on some level the danger to his person was very real, and he had no idea how to calm their fears.

Innogen finally found her voice. “How can this be? How can Claudio speak so of Hero?”

“Aunt, I fear that Claudio and the Prince hath had their wisdoms misled by John the Bastard, whose spirits toils in frame of villainies. My reason and instinct tell me that the bastard is also behind Claudio's jealous reaction prior to the Prince informing him that Hero had been spoken with. In war the Count is confident, perhaps too much; but in the affairs of the heart he seemed easily led by the wrong influence. I shall admit that I had hope during the engagement that my cousin would prove the making of Claudio into a man, but he hath instead proved correct my fears that he was not yet ready to trust a wife as half himself.”

Hero stepped toward Benedick, her trembling heart plain in her eyes. “Cousin, must thou kill Claudio?”

“I know thee wishes him be no more than wounded,” Benedick acknowledged. “But Claudio may leave me no choice in the duel. He shall not overcome me, and so the question is whether his conduct shall permit him to live, merely wounded.”

Hero had to be satisfied, however poorly, with that. But any response was prevented by the Friar. “Come lady; this wedding-day perhaps is but prolong'd; have patience and endure.”

She nodded and held out her hands to Sienna. “Come and comfort me, little cousin.”

The little girl did not want to leave her father's hip, but the need in Hero's eyes, combined with her father's gentle encouragement, convinced her to do so. She slowly went to Hero's waiting arms, which settled her against her hip. Hero took Ignac's hand and then let her mother guide her away to the safety of the inside rooms, under the care of her gentlewomen.

Adrian and Rufine stayed still, looking at their father. Crispin remained beside them. Benedick could read their fear that they dared not say aloud. They were old enough to know what was happening, that it was not a play fight and were too aware that there was the chance of their father not coming home from it. And the thought terrified them. He knelt before them. “Go comfort your cousin and each other; I must ensure Claudio pays for his grave error; and so farewell until later.” He kept his tone even and reassuring, telling them to focus on his return.

He knew that it was a mere distraction, but they nodded. So he embraced each one, after which they allowed Leonato to lead them away. “I shall see thee in the courtyard, nephew; men from both houses shall wait upon us.”

Benedick nodded, concealing his grimness.

Beatrice tarried, standing before her husband in the empty room. Only then did she permit the tears to show. “Husband” she choked as she tried for an even tone. “You must kill Claudio.”

He nodded grimly. “I have engaged myself, have I not? Only an hour ago I would have thought I could not kill my foolish friend, not for the wide world, but he hath left me no choice. His conduct shall now determine his fate.”

“For the first time, I find myself regretting not knowing what my husband is like on the battlefield. You are his superior in fighting? For I could not permit him to live if he cost me and the children you.”

He took her into his arms, feeling terrible when she went without even the slightest protest. Her fear was coming off her in droves. “My love, never have I broken a promise to return to thy side, and I shall not now.” He moved a hand to cup her cheek, which drew her to look into his eyes, and he aimed all the confidence he had into them as his other took one of her hands. “By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. He shall not survive me. I shall be in our bed tonight, and have thee until morning or until sleep overtakes thee.”

He did not dare let her continue on her fears. He could not permit Claudio to overcome him. He had too much at stake, and he knew full well what his wife would be driven to in grief and its resulting madness. For their children's sakes, never mind hers, he had to emerge alive.

Beatrice's eyes yet watered, but his words rang true. He had never made her a promise he felt he could not keep, and he had always returned to her. “I shall slip to the chapel to pray for thee, my sword.”

It was true, for his sword was at her disposal. No pun intended.

He looked deeply into her eyes, which had supported and challenged and inflamed him for all these years. “One kiss, my lady's favour as my talisman.”

She threw her arms around him, melting into him from sheer desperation. He held on, longing to keep her at his side, but forced to release her far too soon.

Beatrice choked trying to keep her tears at bay as Benedick took his hat, placed it on his head, and then – taking a long look her way – said simply, “Until later, my Beatrice.” And walked off with military precision.

Once he left her tears became audible, and she stumbled against the chapel door. Bent half over in grief, feeling like the smallest twine might lead her, she leaned her head – feeling light-headed given her earlier reactions – against the frame. She gasped a prayer.

“O God, defend thy servant Benedick that he may defend my cousin! Let him return to my side, and let those who sought Hero's ruin meet the justice of this world before they meet yours. May my husband return as he promised, to tend to me as I carry more proof of the love we share. Amen.”

Still weeping and straining to contain it, as there was no point to raising a fuss, she slowly walked to recover the forgotten bouquet – tossed aside as Hero had been – and made to find the path to where she knew her family would wait. Her children needed her there, no matter how she felt. She only hoped she would not swoon again, for her pride could not bear it.


Chapter Seven: A Grave Misapprehension

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. Merry Christmas, love. :D And to my betas: tardis_mole and bas_math_girl
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And now I'm not sure when the rest will be posted. One of my betas is at least temporarily unavailable due to unforeseen circumstances. Please think good thoughts. Thank you. I decided to post this to show what happens at the duel.



Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second



Chapter Note: This is the first time I've ever had to give footnotes within my own story. I felt it necessary, and tried to make the marks less intrusive. Don't know how well I did, especially since I couldn't find the kinds of resources I wanted to support my beta's information. (I once again owe tardis_mole a lot in terms of making the details feel right.) Footnotes are at the end of the chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN: A GRAVE MISAPPREHENSION

Don Pedro led Claudio toward the appointed area, the inner courtyard of Leonato's villa, as the appointed time drew near. “Challenged thee!”

“Most sincerely!”

In the aftermath, neither man seemed able to quite accept that this moment was at hand. It seemed a bad dream.

Only Don John's expression, a careful mask of grimness that did not seem out of place for him on a normal day, seemed anything like calm. He dared not speak for fear that he would accidentally say something that would enlighten the Prince his brother. Such actions would endanger the deception he had practiced. There was still a danger, for Benedick had seemed to grow thoughtful when Don John himself spoke. At least his brother had not given specifics of transgressions to lay at Hero's door, for the Senor cousin would have surely been able to challenge them on those very details.

As the trio, accompanied by many of Don Pedro's men, approached, they saw members of Leonato's House, and some of Beatrice's House, standing around. Men who had to belong to the Watch and the town militia stood almost as sentries. The governor himself was present, eyes focused on the man beside him – his dress jacket and sash already removed. Men who served directly under Benedick's command were already present, a symbolic sign of where their loyalties lay.

Benedick was practicing sharp motions with his cup-hilt rapier, his favored weapon. A weapon preferred by men with strength, that had a good weight to it as it slashed.(1)

The tight control over each movement reminded Don Pedro of why this man was, despite the recent assertions that Claudio was his right hand, the best soldier at his disposal. Losing Benedick would be a blow to all future actions. And quite possibly lose the country to invading forces.

And yet tender his resignation the man already had, and Don Pedro could on second thought see that it was necessary or his honor would be wronged. He did not know if anything would recover Benedick into his service, but he hoped that he might be able to stop this duel. He had thought hard about the sights of the previous evening once the challenge had been issued and accepted. It was true that the only things they had to prove the woman they saw was Hero was that she wore a color similar to what Hero had been seen wearing earlier, she seemed the right size, and the villain had called her by the name of Hero.

Could there be an innocent explanation? Perhaps what they saw was a random lady who was merely addressed as 'Hero' by some man they had not been able to see well? Could his brother be mistaken?

He did not dare entertain the idea that his brother was outright misleading him. He thought himself better able to see through such things. And if that was the case, then he feared he would have to order his own brother's execution. Assuming their father approved.

Benedick paused in his practice and turned as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He had already spoken with Leonato about what the man would have to demand... should things go ill. But there would be an acknowledgement that Hero was wronged. He would have that above all else. “Prince, do you still stand with one who has shown himself unworthy of many merits he hath been praised for by thy own tongue?”

The saddened tone wounded Don Pedro, for it was clear that Benedick was mortified that the lord he had served for many years had placed him in such a position. “Benedick, I implore thee that this duel doth not proceed.”

“Claudio hath spoken beyond what can be easily forgot or forgiven,” Benedick responded. “Although my soul tells me that your wisdoms have been misled by one who would see the Count not gain his heart's desires or be praised any further than he hath already. There is only one way the Count may escape my sword.”

Not yet willing to address the implication that his princely wisdom could be misled, Don Pedro focused on the last part of Benedick's brief speech. “And what forfeit shall be required to call this duel off?”

Benedick raised a finger for each part of the demands. “He must start by owning to his foul words the night the match was made, words against my and Beatrice's honesty; then I insist on hearing upon whose authority thy accusations were founded and what thou actually saw. As I am certain that none of you truly saw Hero's face then even you, Claudio, shall own that to accuse her such is slander. Own this all and then bend under a penance of my choosing, and honour shall be satisfied without the duel. Thou was well into thy cups when I left the gentleman's night, and I cannot imagine that either of you had recovered that lost blood by the time of the events intimated in the accusations.”

Don Pedro flinched. Benedick had raised an important challenge, for had he not always said that decisions of importance must be made with a clear head? The Prince knew he himself had been quite merry until his brother had come with his claims, and Claudio had been much further along. Should he have demanded men more sober than they come along to observe and give their own judgement as to whether the woman they saw and heard was truly Hero?

Claudio's pride had already been wounded mightily the night before, and he had thought that to publicly denounce Hero was his only recourse. To have the man he called friend challenge him as having made a worse blunder was too much. And so his words were not tempered by restraint or reason. “I never meant to call thy or thy wife's honesty into question, for I assume that I had vital intelligence that the pair of thee lacked; as for what I accused Hero of, I cannot believe that any man would make such claims without basis in fact. I charge that thy knows thy cousin not, and that thy own accusations are most offensive!”

Leonato's and Beatrice's men cried in anger, and the governer's face twisted with rage. Don Pedro flinched, and Don John hid a smile.

Benedick's eyes turned cold. 'Then prepare to defend thy life, Claudio, for thy words prove thee unworthy of thy title! And then I shall demand a forfeit from the source of thy slander! Count thy blessings that mine wife did not hear thy slander!”

Claudio turned and began removing his outer garments, stripping to Benedick's level. His head was in a rage, and he steeled himself to defend his own eyes.

Benedick looked grimly at Leonato. “You know what you must do, uncle.”

Leonato nodded. “God defend thee and thy just cause, nephew.” He embraced his nephew then, the man who was nearly a son to him.

Benedick returned it. For all the just causes he had to dislike Leonato, the man's love for his family could not be denied and nor could his overall wisdom and reverence. For that he deserved to be treated as a father here, and Benedick would honor that. Indeed, he had more respect for Leonato than his own father. Letting go, he nodded to the men of the house and stepped to wait for the duel to begin.

Don Pedro watched as Claudio, having finished with the necessary disrobing, took several deep breaths. “Count, you are certain this is what you must do?”

“What choice do I have, my lord?” he answered grimly and with considerable emotion. He turned, and the two combatants stepped forward to their designated spots.

The Messenger approached and stood between the two lords, looking between them grimly. He respected both men, and had never imagined things coming to this. Still, it was not his place to suggest an alternative. Instead, he bade them present their swords and he was grimly happy that both were of the same length. Although Claudio's choice of a dueling rapier seemed far less manly than Benedick's, being the weapon typically chosen by men who were not soldiers for settling their differences, and spoke less of honor than of cowardice.(2) He then bade them remove their shirts, as custom was want, to be sure neither hid another weapon.

Thus bared, it was obvious the younger man was less well off in muscle as Benedick, and equally so in sword of lighter steel. But even so it was uncertain if evenly matched was correct, such an uneven measure of the pair. Benedick was brawn and well-toned, and well versed in fighting. Claudio was lighter, untested in the same count of years on the battlefield as Benedick, but he was more agile.

The sight reminded Don Pedro of the difference in their upbringings. Claudio was from Florence, and had spent much time in the south. Such men were often teased by their northern counterparts and sometimes outright accused of being too soft. Benedick hailed from Padua, a rather northern climate that bred heartier and tougher men. And Padua had long been locked in altercations with Venice over land, so Benedick had actually seen more battles than Don Pedro himself had.(3)

When the two had first met, Benedick had tested Claudio by remarking on the difference. The Prince only hoped that anger would not make any real thoughts come out, let alone pure thoughts of anger. Or make comments of the differences in command style: Claudio, for all his recent feats, tended to not get as close to the men he commanded as Benedick did, and the respect shown each was markedly different because of that.(4)

Neither of them wore any shield of protection save the prayer of their hearts to their God. It was man against man, honor against honor. The Messenger raised his sword, the signal for the combatants to touch theirs in preparation and put their respective left hands behind their back.(5)

After waiting a moment, the Messenger dropped the blade of his sword and Claudio rushed forward, only to be ably blocked in his motion by Benedick, who guarded, swiveled and slashed down on him. Only the rear edge of Claudio’s sword stopped him from losing a buttock.

Claudio turned, furious and began to swing his sword back up to lunge to the side with his left foot. Benedick jumped over it and swooped in several times in a figure of eight, but Claudio matched each move with his own, hit high and swiped across Benedick’s belly.

Benedick gasped and jumped back, hitting Titus, a young gentleman of Leonato's House. He got to his feet, apologizing and re-entered the fray, swishing his blade more swiftly in an attempt to catch Claudio out. He caught the man across his cheek and sent him flying back into Don Pedro.

Don Pedro lifted him to his feet and shoved him forward, while Claudio patted a finger to his wound. It was barely a scratch. He’d had worse. He marched towards Benedick, who was barely out of breath, and started at him again.

The sound of steel on steel clacked and echoed around the inner courtyard, and Benedick tried not to be aware that this could be heard by the women and children out of sight in the rooms beyond the shuttered windows, the public rooms capable of holding so many at one time.

He swiped Claudio and took off the top button of his britches, dropping them to his ankles. Only the necessity for undergarments kept him from being fully exposed.

“Stop!” the Messenger shouted.

“Nay, good man,” Claudio refused, out of breath, lifting the torn clothing to his hips, where a long red welt had risen across his abdomen. “I shall hold them up with my left hand and continue.”

“That is against the rules,” the Messenger persisted. “The left hand must remain behind the back.”

“Let him hold his britches,” Benedick responded. “I have no wish to see his excuse for manhood exposed to the good air of Messina! My kin have been wronged enough this day!”

Claudio’s expression soured more. “Let me expose thy lack of manhood-”

“Claudio,” the Prince interceded quickly and sharply. “Fruits are the make of a man. Even that thee cannot make a lie.”

Claudio snorted. “Perhaps his wife was no more a maiden than Hero. Perhaps the Lady Beatrice laid with another to bring fruit!”

“How dare you!!” Benedick practically growled. “I knew thee to be slow, but I had not thought thee so blind!”

Don Pedro hid his face, not just in shame at Claudio’s words, but for the attack that burst from Benedick’s corner. It was more frenzy than he had seen even in the height of battle, and in this he was justified. Claudio had crossed a line that should never be crossed. He could not support him in that and took a large step back, a gesture of symbolic significance to anyone who paid attention, and now for a surety he began to wonder why his brother seemed so pleased with the day’s events. He had ignored it before, but he noticed it now.

Claudio looked for openings. He had height and youth on Benedick, so he had to use them. But there was little opening to use.

Benedick was looking to use his sharper skills and greater experience to unseat Claudio from his confidence. Never mind that he knew he could unsettle the man easily enough with words; he'd already proved that. But now his honour, his marital bed and the legitimacy of his children were in question. Unlike Claudio, he knew how to channel his anger into proper forms.

“I perceive thee breathless, old man!” Claudio taunted.

Benedick was only just warming up and had barely broken a sweat, but he was slightly breathless, mostly with anger. “No more so than the weanling I wrestled from his mother’s breast!” he shot back.

The riposte hit its mark. “I am no mere weanling! I shall wear your honour like a broach and your skin shall be my boots!!”

“Unlikely when thou is from the soft Florentine stock, having never smelt the sea and thus never gaining strength of it as a child; nay, thy steals it by the mere act of visiting!”

Claudio squawked and his sword swiped between them unexpectedly, catching Benedick across the chest. Benedick stumbled back, dropping his sword and clutching the long blooded slash. But like the other, it merely wept slightly. He swooned back on his haunches and dropped to his behind, all from the surprise at the opening he had not realized he had left. He looked at his hand and his chest and knew then that he had to kill Claudio.

“I have been holding back from this moment, one-time friend. But no more!” he warned calmly. He picked up his sword and rose to his feet, shaking off the aid of his uncle, his eyes now only for Claudio.

Don Pedro's eyes widened. He realized Claudio did not yet comprehend the significance. The Count was about to pay for his sin – or sins – in mistaking.

“Stop!” cried Dogberry as he ran into the area. “This duel is wrong! Both men have been used!”

Only his running right in-between the men stopped the fighting.

“Constable,” Leonato protested, even as Verges and the Watch came along, dragging two of Don John's men with them, “do you know how wrong it is to interrupt a duel of honour?”

“But these men have committed false report which led to this duel, moreover they have spoken untruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixth and lastly they have belied a lady, thirdly they have verified unjust things, and to conclude, they are lying knaves who would set two honourable men against each other,” Dogberry contended, referring to Borachio and Conrade.

Don Pedro moved towards him, trying and failing to keep his own displeasure off his face. Although he had not missed his brother's plain panic at the sight of his men bound. “First I ask thee what they have done, thirdly I ask thee what's their offence, sixth and lastly why they committed, and no conclude, what you lay to their charge.” He turned toward Borachio.

Dogberry opened his mouth to protest, but thought the better of it. Until the truth had been spoken, the duel could resume at a moment's notice. And he was standing between two swords and the respective men who wielded them.

Don Pedro noted then that his brother looked extremely uneasy, far more than his normal want, and felt a growing knot in his stomach. That, seconded to the smile he could swear he saw not a moment before when Benedick declared he would cease holding back, meant there was something he was not privy to. “Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? This learned constable is too... cunning to be understood. What's your offence?”

Borachio looked up slowly. “Sweet Prince, do you hear me and let this Senor kill me and not the Count. I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover these... shallow fools have brought to light, who overheard me in the night confessing to this man how your brother Don John incensed me to slander the Lady Hero, and how you saw me court Margaret in Hero's garments.”

Claudio paled and dropped his blade to the ground, leaving it hanging from his nerveless fingers. Don Pedro froze, stiffened by shame and yet more shame, of his eyes and ears and by his own bastard brother. Benedick and Leonato's faces contorted with rage. But they were not the only ones. Angelo, Margaret's father, and Titus, who had long held a tender toward Margaret, also turned red with fury.

Don John looked for an escape but could see none. Leonato's own men were guarding the place carefully, Beatrice's seemed out for blood, and the soldiers would assist them all now.

Borachio looked heavenward. “My villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is nearly dead upon mine and my master's false accusations, two men who ought not be enemies are locked in a duel that can only end with one at least injured – more injured than now – and in short I desire nothing more than the reward of a villain.”

While Don Pedro rubbed his face, Claudio stared at the ground by Dogberry's feet. Benedick's eyes turned on Claudio, never leaving his face.

When Don Pedro's hands fell limply by his side, he turned to Claudio. “Runs this speech like iron through your blood?”

“I have drunk poison whilst he uttered it,” Claudio choked, his voice barely reaching everyone in the vicinity.

“And did my brother set thee upon this?” Don Pedro demanded of Borachio.

“Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.”

Benedick could not remain silent. “And did you both plan for this duel to take place?”

“My master feared thy wits would unravel the plans, and I suggested that thy honour would ensure such a duel would take place. I do believe he wished to be rid of at least one of you both.”

Leonato needed to be seated from shock.

Don Pedro shook with shame and rage. “He is compos'd and fram'd of treachery, and fled he would upon this villainy! Just as he hath his other responsibilities!” He turned on his brother. "Foisting your own vile plot on a denied begotten and yet still, revile her innocence more by your treachery and deceit in this! O that you had covered your loins sooner!"

The words left the courtyard in silence. Don Pedro realized only a moment later what he had spoken. In vīno, vērĭtās was not quite as true as many liked to think. More accurate would be in fŭror, vērĭtās.(6)

“Let me choose his fate, my Lord,” Benedick insisted, not daring to hint that his former lord had nearly confirmed one of his suspicions that he had never shared with Beatrice. And to grant the Prince a chance to recover his composure. “I'll devise thee brave punishments for him.”

“Tis your right as the most wronged party other than the Lady Hero and Lady Beatrice, praise God they did not hear what we have heard,” the Prince agreed. He added a silent prayer that the latter never would, although it might be in vain given how little Benedick censored his own words around her. He looked at the combatants and slowly sighed, pained at what he had to say. “Constable, you must step aside. Only the two men can resolve the duel.” For it had to be resolved. Honor demanded it.

Dogberry nervously stepped out and quickly to the side, standing once again at attention with his hands behind his back.

Now all eyes were once again on the combatants.

Benedick's eyes bored into Claudio's, who could barely meet them. “If thy claims to have sinn'd not but in mistaking, then thou art a coward who will not own to his failure to treat his lady as half himself!”

Don Pedro's lips twitched. The thought that Benedick clearly dismissed had crossed his mind, but now he had to speak. “Benedick, I swear I shall bend under any weight to satisfy yourself and the Lady's good old man. But I do beg you to permit Claudio live, though I shall not command it; even I cannot order you to act against your conscience in a matter of honour.”

Claudio dropped his sword, letting it fall out of reach, and fell to his knees. He forced his eyes to meet Benedick's. “Choose your revenge against me, Senor. Every accusation I have laid at thy door was said in anger, without warrant or proof. Every accusation thou hath laid at my door is proved true. Thou hast said from the first that I was unworthy of Hero, and I have proved it beyond any reckoning. If I must pay with mine life, then permit as much of my fortunes as may be removed by law from the inheritance to my family's heirs to fall to care for Hero.”

Benedick was silent for a long moment. No one could read his face, for he kept it still. He assessed the younger man's manner, deciding what the best course of action would be.

Then he stepped forward and slashed Claudio's stomach twice, drawing a brief cry of shock from the younger man. The wounds were not so deep that it would kill Claudio, but more than enough to leave an ugly scar that would brand the Count for the rest of his days even if treated immediately. Whereas Benedick's new scars would pain his wife no more than it pained him. They wouldn’t scar too boldly, but he would wear them as a bitter reminder. Claudio would wear his with shame.

Claudio forced himself to remain looking at Benedick's face the whole time, waiting for the final verdict.

The older man took a deep breath. “Honour is satisfied as far as the duel is concerned. Your penance I have yet to decide upon, but you shall not be permitted to even ask Hero for forgiveness until thou hast carried it out.”

Claudio nodded, shaking from the shock of being alive and from the loss of blood. Even as he received treatment to stop the blood flow. Don Pedro breathed in relief that his brother's aims had been thwarted at last. Leonato stood slowly, grim but in obvious pride of his nephew's conduct.

Benedick waved off the help of the men of his House, after giving each wound a cursory pat to make sure they had stopped bleeding, grabbing his clothes instead. “I must see to my family. I shall meet all of thee later.” With that he hurried into the house.

Don Pedro cast a glare in his brother's direction and stepped to examine the wounds Benedick had bestowed on Claudio. He motioned for a look when the medics seemed satisfied that Claudio was not losing so much blood. When the stained cloths were removed, he hissed.

Claudio looked down at last, and paled further. The two slashes made an X on his stomach, the mark effectively branding him a vulpes, a fox of the worst sort.(7) Two dishonors, Hero and Beatrice. He would carry this shame for life. He wondered if he should feel fortunate that Benedick had not given him the third slash he richly deserved, but then realization hit: he would be in debt to Benedick and Beatrice's House for life, a debt that would be slowly collected. Surely his life was only spared because he knew Benedick despised Don John and would act to thwart a man he knew to be a villain.

Don John noticed from the sidelines. As bound and caught as he was, he still found a smile. He could still cause some mischief, and the marriage was perhaps still crossed.

/=/=/=/

1. A cup-hilt rapier refers to the shape of the hand guard on the hilt of a battle rapier. Typically they are one meter long and weight varies, dependent on the type and quality, and many are as much as 4kg. It's incredibly sharp at the end, and I'm told they can take off a finger if you're not careful. Remember Arwen's cheek cut from the branch in the movie version of Fellowship? That's the typical kind of wound if you get a slight hit, and it weeps. In the hands of someone as skilled as Benedick, it's a deadly weapon.

2. A dueling rapier is typically one meter long and weigh 1kg. They're distinctive because of the fluted handle of silver or gold filigree and attractive design and lighter steel. They are not meant for war, but are more for decoration and thus for dueling. The lighter weight meant it was preferred by civilians who hadn't endured the rigor of military training. So Claudio's choosing this makes him appear less of a man than Benedick.

3. There are a lot of jokes, teasing, and perhaps rattling cages regarding how the location a person was brought up in influences their adult lives. We've all heard them. In this case, the basis comes from things dating back to the Romans. The auxiliaries may have been needed because the Roman legionaries didn't do so well in more northern climates. Well, check a map of Italy. Messina is in Sicily, the far south. Florence is in the northern central part of Italy, and Padua is close to the Alps and the sea. It also endured many years of conflict with neighboring Venice. (Again, check history references, especially the extensive listing of the Republic of Venice's wars. Historical context becomes interesting when twisted into the modern setting of this production.) Hence the remarks of the physical differences and the mention of Benedick being involved in more battles than Don Pedro. Soldiers would be sensitive to those remarks, unless they're like Benedick and know how to let most wash off their backs.

4. Look up history books and find the difference in how the troops viewed commanders who ordered from the back vs the ones who led from the front, most commonly during WW1 and WW2; particularly General Bucknet Jr, who insisted on being more hands on and which led to his death, compared to Herbert Kitchener, who commanded from some distance from the front lines in a more administrative position. I'll let those speak for me here, since it shows how ably Benedick commands to still be living.

5. For a quick reference on the rules of sword dueling, particularly the chivalry surrounding it, go to Classical Fencing website's page on Duels With the Sword.

6. I figured this one out with the help of my copy of Cassell's Latin Dictionary, 1968 edition. Yes, I took Latin in college. I even got a teacher to help me translate a computer term into Latin for a work project once. From the Latin fŭror: furious anger, martial rage. Thought it suited Don Pedro's mood.

7. Anyone remember the character Zorro and his mark? “Zorro” means “fox”, which is also known by the Latin vulpes – which flowed down into the Romance languages, Italian and Spanish included. Zorro liked to humiliate the corrupt officials he fought against, and marking them would do just that. But calling someone a “fox” isn't typically a compliment, which is the case here. Each slash of the mark represents a particular dishonor. Benedick would have been within his right to mark Claudio a third time, but DT's Benedick strikes me as someone who would focus on the wrongs against women and children, leaving himself out of it. Hence an X and not a Z, and why Claudio knows he's in debt for life.

Chapter Eight: Waiting Is the Worst Sorrow

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. At this point it's Happy Belated New Year, love. :D And special thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D

And this grew. This chapter simply refused to stop, and then my beta had two scene suggestions that I agreed were needed. So... one more post. I doubt you'll mind, sykira. :)



Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second

CHAPTER EIGHT: WAITING IS THE WORST SORROW

The ladies and children had gathered in the formal room of Leonato's house, where the revels had taken place not a week before. Several men stood at ready to fetch things for them or relay messages to other parts of the house. The choice of the inner courtyard as the dueling site was to avoid outside interference; a sensible decision except that it meant that those within the house at any room could hear the sounds of swords clashing.

It was a sound that everyone knew to varying degrees. Some of the children reacted to each clash, but not Benedick and Beatrice's children. They were well used to it, having watched their parents practice often. The eldest three also practiced often themselves. But the knowledge was a double-edged sword: they could make guesses as to what was happening, but the lack of hard proof that their father was safe wounded them and made them jumpy.

They tried to remain calm, even help soothe the younger children of the House. Only Sienna periodically started crying again, and that set them off into tears every time. Only their mother's grim countenance allowed the eldest to stem the flow. At least until their youngest sibling cried again in Hero's arms.

The gentlewomen, especially Margaret, had done their best to attempt levity in any form to distract them all from the noise outside. Conversation, music, loud games for the children, embroidery, reading, the radio, anything they could think of. But the children were ultimately having none of it, since the leading children of the area – Benedick and Beatrice's – were having none of it. They were left with their imaginations to fill in the gaps, and to determine what words were being spoken when they could make out the sounds of raised voices, Benedick's being one of them.

Hero sat surrounded by her gentlewomen, who all sought to bring her whatever she needed to try to attain anything like calm. But she was crying, needing to hold her youngest cousin in an attempt to keep herself under good regulation. Her dreams seemed shattered no matter what happened, unlike the wrinkles in her dress that could be removed with care, and she kept reaching for glasses of champagne, one after the other.

Innogen paced slowly nearby, disliking her complete lack of control over anything outside of the room. It was different from following her husband's lead, which bothered her on occasion to where she asked pointed questions of him when they were alone. She looked at the gathering and sighed. A day that had begun so promisingly threatened to end in great tragedy for at least one of her girls. And she was close enough to the windows to make out some of the raised words. If her ears did not mishear at one moment, then she heard Claudio say something that would ensure Benedick would kill him. Oh, if only she could make that sorry sir boy answer her first!

Nearby, Beatrice paced like a caged creature, having ditched her pale shoes for more comfort. No one dared to correct her about lady-like manners. She was ready to take up her husband's sword and even forfeit her own life to punish Claudio if he should succeed. Even though she knew she carried more of Benedick's planted fruit. The only thing that drew her from her pacing was when Sienna cried. Then she would go to her, nuzzle her and whisper to her until her tears quieted and her cousin was enough to calm her, upset as Hero was. It repeated multiple times.

As Hero finished her third glass within a short time, Maria had to comment in an effort to calm her lady. “If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, and 'tis not wisdom to second grief against yourself.”

Hero looked up with the sort of fire her father often showed when angered. “I pray thee cease thy counsel, which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve. Give me not counsel, nor let no comforter delight mine ear but such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a lady that so lov'd her lord, whose joy of him is overwhelm'd like mine was, and who was cast aside for reasons she cannot fathom, and bid her speak of patience; measure her woe the length and breadth of mine, and let it answer every strain for strain, as thus for thus, and such a grief for such, in every lineament, branch, shape, and form. If such a one will smile and stroke her hair, bid sorrow wag, cry 'Hem!' when she should groan, patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk with candle-wasters, bring her yet to me, and I of her will gather patience. But there is no such woman: for, Maria, men and women may both counsel and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, their counsel turns to passion, which before would give preceptial medicine to rage, fetter strong madness in a silken thread, charm ache with air, and agony with words. No, no, 'tis all men and women's office to speak patience to those that wring under the load of sorrow, but no man or woman's virtue nor sufficiency to be so moral when she shall endure the like herself. Therefore give me no counsel: my griefs cry louder than advertisement.”

Innogen suppressed a groan. Her child had never sounded so like Leonato. “Therein do men and women from children nothing differ, nor daughters from fathers.”

“Mother, I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and blood; for there was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently, however they have writ the style of gods, and made a push at chance and sufferance!”

“Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; make those that do wrong you suffer too!” cried Beatrice, ensuring silence from the whole room. “Do not merely let others declare thy fate: for that is how men like Don John can twist appearances to make thee seem a stale when the opposite is true!”

“I do not understand how the Prince and the Count could have been so deceived,” declared Margaret. “For both men were even described by Benedick as having the very bent of honour. Surely they could have seen that such a woman that they did see was not my lady.”

Beatrice's blood was up. Not even her children's presence could temper her words. “Do not imagine that men of power are immune to flattery and deception, Fool; mine husband hath witnessed this time and time again, and spoken bitterly of the follies. Knowing what I doth of the Prince and Claudio, and of men when they are sending one of their own off into marriage, I suspect that they were deeply in their cups, as Benedick said; there did Don John work his villainies, preying on the fears that drive men to rule despite being clods of wayward marl. They use their might to make right their rule, and only one of them is enough to ruin a woman; yea, they hoped that three of them would leave Hero with no recourse, and that my uncle would fall to their side being of their ilk. The Bastard took advantage of their lessened wisdoms and turned them into greater fools than they already are!”

“Good God, my Lady Beatrice!” cried Ursula. “Have a care with thy speech! Your Senor would not wish thee to attract the harsh hand of the Prince.”

Beatrice took nothing back. “O princes and counties! Surely a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect, a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake, if I had not a husband, a good friend, who will be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into curtsies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it.”

Her children stared at her in horrified fascination, listening as her tone swung from choking with grief to sarcastic to bitter and angry and quiet. To the youngest it was incomprehensible. The two eldest however understood.

Adrian spoke, his words quiet and yet reaching the whole room. “Mother, do you mean that a man may murder a lady's reputation with little more than his own words, his own reputation as an honourable man?”

Beatrice looked forlornly at her son. Like his father, he could be far too aware of what happened around him. She knew that he was fully aware of the risk his father undertook each action, and his relief whenever Benedick returned was too great for ignorance. Had been for far too long. She approached and held him to her, not surprised when his twin leaned in to also be held. “Yea, my son. Claudio hath made it impossible to conceal from thee the truths of war, or that it may touch the home in the worst way.”

Rufine sniffled. “There is not a chance my cousin shall be happy with the outcome?”

“I fear not, daughter. She must pray that your father succeeds in everything he vowed, or she shall never be able to show her face before Messina ever again.”

The children cried, in varying degrees of shock. Crispin and Ignac drew to their mother's side in a rush. Sienna held Hero all the tighter, and both began weeping anew.

Beatrice clutched her children and they clung to her. They needed her in the uncertain moment, and they were all she had of her husband right then.

Suddenly they heard approaching footfalls. They all went stock still, waiting to see who entered and who did not.

Before Beatrice could do more than draw away from her children and open her mouth to demand answers, Benedick entered alone, carrying his jacket. His open shirt revealed two thin cuts, one on his chest and one on his stomach, but he was otherwise merely sweaty. There was not a hint of another wound.

Hero cried out, terrified that Claudio was dead. Only her mother putting a hand on her shoulder for comfort kept her reaction to that. Though the room was in shock and stunned, even as some of Beatrice's men followed their lord.

Sienna slipped Hero's hold with a burst of energy that stunned her cousin. The little girl rushed to her father's side, crying, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

He paused long enough to scoop her into his arms, adjusting so he held her by one while both of hers wrapped tightly around his neck as she sobbed in relief. He then went straight to his wife and stopped before her. “Our cousin's honour is restored, her good name cleared. I have kept my word to return to thy side, and I shall keep the rest of it.”

She did not even blush at the reminder. Instead she did something that no one could imagine the proud Beatrice doing: she all but fell into his embrace, letting herself cry her tears of relief. Their children slowly leaned against them, not daring to even cry their father's name as the moment was still too grim.

The room remained silent, listening for any signs that others were also approached. But nothing reached their ears.

When Beatrice was able to let go of Benedick, he greeted each child with a hug and a kiss on their forehead. No words were exchanged, for none could speak.

At length Hero could not remain quiet any longer, though she could not stand. “Cousin, what is Claudio's fate?”

Benedick's sudden tension did not escape anyone's notice, least of all his children. “Claudio conducted himself in a manner that ought to have rendered him dead at my hand, but Constable Dogberry came with the proof of my suspicions that the Prince and Claudio were thoroughly misled. I chose to spare the Count's life despite his conduct in the duel, for his living thwarted the wishes of the author of the false accusations against thee.”

Hero sighed in relief, looking heavenward with a smile and a prayer. She could not help it given how his report had begun.

“Do not rejoice yet, Hero,” he warned. “You do not yet have the full tale, but I shall not speak of it until my uncle and the others return.”

Beatrice caught his eyes. “Do not tell me that he is wounded only as much as thee.”

“Nay, my love; these are mere scratches compared to the wounds I gave Claudio to conclude the duel. His own acceptance and admission of guilt made it easier to spare him despite his richly deserving another fate.”

Hero numbly began to eye the glasses again.

“Leave the drink alone, sweet Hero,” implored Beatrice. “You shall surely want your wits about you fully when you learn about today. How long must we wait, husband?”

“Leonato was speaking with the Watch when I left, and the Prince will have a great many things to secure. I doubt it will be soon. And so I think we should bring our children home; then while you tend to me I shall tell you everything, and we shall return after that.”

The children wanted to protest, but the urge seemed strange to them. It was more a wish to know what really happened than not liking going home, which had a great appeal. So Ignac took his father's free hand and Rufine stayed at Sienna's side. Adrian and Crispin took their mother's hands and let themselves be led away.

The remaining women looked anew for ways to distract Hero, but first Maria and Margaret – without needing a prompt from Innogen – removed all the glasses and bottles from their lady's reach.

/=/=/=/

They had barely reached the gate when Benedick paused, hearing grumbled cursing and loud noises coming from a private courtyard behind the household quarters. Frowning, he quickly handed Sienna to one of his men and gently pushed open a narrow door to find Bruno attacking an already destroyed earthen jar with a long dagger.

“Oh if you were but a sword!”

Benedick deftly disarmed the boy as his arm drew up to deal another blow. The boy gasped and turned.

“I should thank God that it is not, child,” Benedick supposed gently. “What vexed thee enough to leave thy mother’s side?”

“I needed nature’s relief,” the boy replied. Bruno bravely bit back his tears and anger and tried to stand proud, though his station thwarted any such pride. “I wanted to avenge my Lady Hero, and clear my mother’s dishonour in one fell blow!”

“On clay?”

“You take me as a fool, my Lord, but I want justice too. But it is not granted to me to learn the art of the sword, because I am shamed and born in shame!”

Benedick looked upon the boy’s manner and quivering lip. He remembered finding the lad in a very similar state before leaving on the past action, and taking his feelings out on a jar already condemned for leaking.

Bruno tried to dry his tears as the dagger was taken from his hands, and he forced himself to meet Benedick's eyes, ready to take whatever punishment his lord would deal. He could not meet the eyes of Adrian or Crispin, who had accompanied their father into the courtyard for sword practice.

Benedick took in Bruno's manner and then looked at the destroyed jar. “What brought thy anger on discarded clay? I should think you might have done yourself a harm, Boy.”

“My anger is for what I am denied, because I am shamed and born in shame! I cannot be a soldier, and follow my lord into battle. I would not know my letters had my lord not chosen to arrange that I learn in secret, for a bastard is not owed education. I did nothing and yet I am condemned. I cannot learn the art of the sword so I might be a soldier! My grandparents say no fault attaches to me and yet I am forced to the shadows!”

Benedick touched the boy's shoulder as he would one of his sons. “Sweet innocence has always been your mother’s and it has bless’d your soul since the day you were planted in her. And I swear to you, that if it is in me to grant you that request, if that day shall come, I will see your restore your mother’s honour.”

“Swear it,” Bruno demanded, ignoring the childish tears on his cheeks. “Be I not man enough to have a Lord’s oath?”

“Aye, you are man enough,” Benedick declared. “For if it had been permitted I would have trained you like my own sons and have you stand shoulder to shoulder with them.”

“You would swear to that, my lord?”

“Adrian and Crispin, be witnesses before God to my vow to your friend.” Benedick knelt before Bruno. “I swear to thee, Bruno, as God is my witness, that should I learn who cast shame upon thy mother that thou shall be permitted to right her.”

Bruno's eyes gave the same silent plea that had been given before. It broke Benedick's heart, and he knew the sight pained Beatrice's mother's heart.

He once again knelt on bended knee before the boy. “I swear, as God is my witness, I have not forgot nor retracted the oath I made with thee. In the presence of the Lady Beatrice and our children, I swear, you shall your mother's shame remove.”

Bruno swallowed down a sob, but pretended not to have done it. The renewal however did give him strength.

“If it were in me, Bruno, I would also make Balthasar your sire and father. But in that I do not have the authority. But in your mother’s honour, you will have the first strike. I swear,” Benedick added, and passed him back the dagger. “Now, be quick. Return this to whence it came and return to your mother. She needs you, and she could have no better man in her household than the son I see before me.”

Bruno nodded and slowly returned to the room they had just departed. As Benedick stood, Beatrice's eyes questioned him silently.

“When we are alone, my love,” he promised, heaviness drawing over his soul.

/=/=/=/

Sienna had been put to bed, the poor dear was so exhausted from her fears and crying. She had refused to let anyone but her father tend to her, and he had sung every comforting song he could think of until she at last allowed the dream state to take her.

The others, having stayed close while their sister was soothed, were left together in a nearby room under an older gentlewoman's care to calm their spirits. None of the children wanted to leave his side, but they would not disobey him or their mother under such circumstances.

Once they were alone, Beatrice forced Benedick to remove his shirt completely to prove he had no other wounds. Satisfied, she bade him to lie on their sofa so she could apply some TCP to his cuts. “Why had you refused treatment earlier?”

“To emphasise the difference between myself and Claudio, to wound his pride further. And because I wanted to return to thee as quick as may be.”

She squeezed his hand in thanks, and when he remained silent she began applying the medicine.

He hissed suddenly between his teeth.

She stopped and stared at him. “Husband, you have worse in sword jest with me than this and have no sound uttered. Have you grown soft in the gaining of wounds since parting from the Prince's service?”

“Nay, fair wife, I am not grown soft, but the wound of sword between thou and I did not pain me so much as the ache of Claudio's words. His sword cut me to the skin, but his words cut me to the heart. Continue and let it worry thee no more than that.”

She narrowed her eyes but resumed her treatment. He kept his reaction under better regulation, but he watched and waited for her next remark.

It was a long time in coming, longer than he expected. He had to break silence to provoke her to speech. “Beatrice, what concerns thee?”

“What did Claudio say that hurt my battle-tested husband in his heart so deeply? Did he prove himself even more unworthy of Hero?”

“O god, wife, he did. If Hero had heard half of the things said I do not know how she would have borne it.”

“Then tell me.”

He hesitated a moment before taking one of her hands. “By this hand I vowed earlier that Claudio would render me a dear account, and I held to that. Now by my hand thou must swear that whatever my tale tempts thee to do, it shall not mean challenging Claudio.”

Beatrice normally did not take well to being told to not do something, even when she was given good reasons for it. If Benedick was asking this, he was asking to remind her of the fruit he had planted and how she must take care with her actions. She took a deep breath, having put as much medicine on his wounds as needed, and put the items aside. “I swear, my love. Now tell me all.”

/=/=/=/

Leonato was still tending to legal jargon that he could have done well without. The day had been trying enough, but he tarried. He had to assist Don Pedro in assigning staff to guard the prisoners, locations for housing the prisoners as there was no question of guilt, and the paperwork involved. He barely noticed when his guards stopped a messenger in Royal livery at the main gate.

“Halt, name your business and master before you enter herein,” the Guards ordered.

“Peace part thee, men of Governor Leonato,” the messenger responded. “I am a messenger of the Royal Court on the King’s business for the Prince himself and the Prince alone.”

The Guards recognized his livery and the crest on two envelopes he carried and parted in respect. The messenger nodded his head and entered approaching the Prince with a footman with him.

The Prince looked up and saw them approaching and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Dear God, do not let me be called home yet,” he prayed beneath his breath. “Captain of the Guard,” he welcomed. “What brings thee hence? Tell me my father hasn’t died without warning me first?”

The messenger and his footman bowed at the waist and held out the envelopes, and ignored the jest. “My Lord, the King is still in rude health.”

“Ruder by the year,” the Prince responded, taking the envelopes. “I shall be greyed and well aged before I take his place.”

The messenger hid a small smile. “Aye, and be ruder still if he thwart you in that. His words, my Lord. We came as quickly as was possible. The King urged us take the shortest and quickest route. He said it was of great import that you receive these by tonight.”

The Prince turned the envelopes over and unfastened the twine on the seal of the first. He drew out a document and read it. Shocked, he quickly returned the document to the envelope and quickly opened the second and read that. Unsure how to react he returned the document to the envelope and turned to the messenger.

“Find thee meat and lodgings for the night among my men and return to the King in the morning. I shall telephone my father at once.”

The messenger and the footman bowed deeply and left.

The Prince then left the courtyard to enter the gatehouse where there was a telephone on the guard’s desk. He motioned for a little privacy, and the guard present stepped outside where he could reach anything in a hurry and yet honor the request. Don Pedro picked up the receiver and dialed a number. After a moment he heard it answered.

“Evening, Eduard. Is my father awake still? I must speak with him now.” He waited until he heard his father’s voice. “Aye, it is I, Father. Thy messenger has arrived. I will pass on said when chance presents itself. It is greater than I asked for.” He listened a moment. “Nay, I agree 'tis deserved, and would not be had thou not encouraged me to secure him for my service to give him escape from a sore point. He doth not express gratitude easily, yet I saw it in his actions; greatest favour I ever did him, even aside from brining him to Messina.” He laughed at the answer. “I think thou and I know well enough his choice was as much to displease his father as to give himself joy. I suspect it was the treatment of a lady that drove him to escape to battlefield.” He paused, his expression changing to sadness. “I would, Father, but Don John has been thwarted in yet more and worse villainy, and caught this time before life was lost. This time he sought to pit Benedick against Count Claudio by creating the illusion that the governor's daughter was disgraced. Least said, the wedding hath been prolonged and Claudio now finds himself in the debt of Benedick. 'Tis worse for it would not have worked had I not been deceived.” He listened carefully for a long moment. “I am sorely displeased in him and sorely sorry for thee. I did try.” He listened again. “I shall make him face those he has wronged. There are a great many things I cannot speak of in this fashion, for they require secrecy to not cast disgrace on those who doth not deserve it. What shall I do beyond that?” He listened again. “I understand.” He listened one last time. “It shall be done as thee has commanded and be in the hands of Benedick of Padua by nightfall. You have my word.”

He hung up and closed his eyes. On top of everything else, he had to now warn Leonato that the King would be coming within the week to Messina. Any who had thought Leonato a father suffering from a broken heart would be grief-stricken themselves when they saw a father who lived with the shame of having brought forth who largely only caused pain and the necessity of having to rid the world of said child.


Chapter Nine: A Gentleman's Recompense
or
DVD Extra the Third

Chapter Text

Last chapter is being a pain, but I thought I should post this to wet your appetite for it and for the final DVD extra.

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. With huge thanks to my betas, tardis_mole and bas_math_girl.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And now that NaNo's over, I'm working on the Christmas stories. Thank goodness some of them were already done. :D



Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second / DVD Extra the Third

CHAPTER NINE: A GENTLEMAN'S RECOMPENSE

The ladies were forced to wait a few more hours, which meant that the daylight was nearly gone. Their monotony was broken when Angelo and Titus returned, both looking pale.

Ursula was first to speak. “Husband, what happened?”

“Tell you true, I not know where to begin,” Angelo said, shaking his head. “I doth know that it is proved our Lady Hero has been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused, and Don John who is the author of all is bound to his answer.”

Innogen would not be silent. “What?! Is mine nephew correct, then? The Prince's own brother! We harbour'd a snake in our home!”

Her choice of words made Angelo tense, but he continued. “Aye, a snake that bit more than once, I heard the Prince tell,” he said and bit his tongue. He glanced around the assembled in the room. “It may be best that the children are not present for the full tale. I expect Leonato to return shortly, and the Prince shall lead the rest soon after.”

“I wish to stay, Grandfather,” protested Bruno.

Maria shook her head. “Listen to him, son.”

“But I wish to stay to comfort our family and our Lady Hero, Mother! I am nearly Lord Adrian and Lady Rufine's age; I am old enough!”

His family looked to Innogen for help. She looked at Bruno a moment and sighed silently. “If he is certain he is of the stock to bear whatever may come, then let him prove it. He may remain when the other children are sent to a more private room; the youngest ought not to hear whatever has happened.”

With that a few of the female servants began to escort all remaining children out of the room as quickly as possible. The necessity showed in their speed, and those woman would learn later what happened.

Leonato entered not long after, his face pale and grim. The other men of his household followed along with the other half of the men from Beatrice's, looking rather like the governor in expression. It made Hero shake, especially as he went first to her to embrace her, then his wife. But he would not answer any inquiries. “Not until the Prince and the others arrive,” he quietly declared, his exhaustion plain.

That moment appeared to come several minutes later when Don Pedro and the Messenger arrived, helping Claudio. The Count was walking awkwardly, a bandage wrapped around his stomach which showed signs of blood. He was also not meeting anyone's gaze, but that could have been explained by the fact that he had one hand against the bandage and was using the other to keep his trousers up over his hips – the buttons appeared to have been cut clean off.

Hero stood slowly, unwilling to be silent and largely freed of the influence of the champagne with strong black coffee. “Father, what hath occurred?”

Before she could be answered, Dogberry led Verges and the Watch into the room, including the detained Borachio and Conrade.

Margaret cried out. “What?! Borachio bound?!”

Following them were yet more soldiers, two guarding the bound Don John.

Innogen's temper flared again. “So the Prince's own brother is behind this wickedness against my child, and she is nearly kill'd, slander'd to near death by villains, that dare as well answer a man indeed as I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!”

“Good madam,” Don Pedro interrupted, feeling the rightness of her anger as she demanded answers. For the first time, he wondered if Beatrice had been quietly encouraged by her aunt to remain as she was in the face of Leonato's rule. If so, he wished he could thank her as she might be partly responsible for her own child's preservation, at least indirectly. “My heart is sorry for not seeing through my brother's deception that nearly cost at least one life.”

“Then my cousin was spot on with his instincts?” demanded Hero. “Count John is the author of all?”

“Yea, Lady Hero.” He could barely face her wounded expression or the demand to know how he, the wise Prince, could have fallen for it. But face it he had to, for honor demanded it. “He came to myself and Claudio when all others had left, whilst we had lost great blood from drinking; he crafted a tale to trick us both when we were at our most susceptible to being played for fools. I ought to have demanded to bring men more sober to bear witness to the events mine brother showed us, which I know now were arranged as carefully as a play. Mine instincts did not believe him when he said it, but if my brother is good at anything it is managing to find the words to make one doubt their own soul when it suits him. Had I not been drinking it would never have worked.”

“But how could he convince you that you have seen me with a man I was never near, certainly not in such a manner as your accus'd me?” demanded Hero.

Borachio spoke. “If you would know your wronger, look on me.”

“What?!” again cried Margaret. “What mean thee, Borachio?”

He slowly looked at her in sorrow. “My master has long been wishing Claudio be thwarted in his desires, and I had sworn to assist him. Once I gave him word that an intended marriage existed I was to assist him in whatever was to be done. When our attempts to prevent the arrangement at the revels failed, his prompting led me to think of using the favour thou hath shown me so that the Prince and Claudio might be persuaded Hero was no maiden.”

“You jest!” Margaret cried, shaking her head wildly. “How can this be?!”

“Did I not request thou wear garments very like thy lady's if not of thy lady's?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly, stiffening. “What of it?”

“And then I encouraged thou to drink more than your usual wont, to make thee so merry that I could influence thy actions to make Claudio and the Prince believe that they saw Hero with me. The dark and their drinks made it possible. I deceived thee, Margaret, and never can I make that right.”

Margaret collapsed into a nearby chair, covering her mouth and trying desperately to restrain crying. “When I thought thy intentions were honourable, that you sought to support a wife?! Thou art little more than a blackguard!”

Leonato turned toward Margaret. “Then I presume that you were not pack'd in all this wrong, hir'd to it by Don John?”

Borachio protested immediately. “No, by my soul she was not, nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, but always hath been just and virtuous in anything that I do know by her.”

Hero walked to Margaret's side, who looked down after briefly meeting her lady's eyes but was startled when she was embraced tightly. “Good Meg, I doth not hold thee at fault for this day, for it was against thy will. A lady must not blame another for being deceiv'd so cruelly by the man she bestow'd her affection to; for I declare thee innocent, and shall not see thee punish'd. I see that the villain who pain'd thee so shall willingly accept any punishment that might be thine to bear for thy sake.”

Margaret's watery smile was filled with gratitude, and her family went to her side when Hero let her go. Though she went into her father's arms, needing the support.

Hero was silent, trying to form words. Her eyes slowly turned to Claudio, who flinched as she looked at him. “Does the Prince mean to tell me that everything I had said to you was forsaken for the word of a man you must have known was not to be trust'd?”

Her voice was a mixture of sorrow and anger, her words meant to hit at Claudio's honor – the very thing that had been engaged to act against her, and the very thing that now lay in tatters. She did not fail to hit her mark, however gently she spoke. Never mind the more formal language than was her want toward him.

Claudio could still not meet her eyes. And her phrasing had to be answered in kind to show respect. He was still shaking in shock from his wounds, and pale with loss of honor as much as blood. “Yea, I have prov'd unworthy of you, Sweet Hero. I have been prov'd an ass and an ass again, unwilling to accept the responsibilities a husband hath to his wife or that no matter the law the husband must find a way to trust his wife as half himself. Your cousin hath forbidden me from asking for forgiveness, and I await the penance he shall impose on me. My life is his as he would have been right to slay me for my actions and words, and I submit to whatever his invention can lay upon my many sins.”

Borachio had to make a plea. “Good lady, please let me speak. The Count sinn'd only in mistaking, led to it by a man whose talents lie in mischief-making and his guilt shall punish him enough; his honour from the battlefield shall ensure that.”

Hero narrowed her eyes. “Art thou then the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd mine innocent heart?'

“Yea, even I alone.”

She shook her head. “No, not so, villain, thou beliest thyself. Here stand a pair of honourable men that had a hand in it. I thank you, Prince and Count, for my heart's death; record it with your high and worthy deeds; 'twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.”

Leonato stepped forward to touch Hero's shoulder in support. “Daughter, you hath prov'd mine child in every possible way; and yet I must mention that the Prince hath also agreed to bend under any weight that your cousin's honour deems required to satisfy the debt they both are in to our House. Claudio is not permitt'd to even ask for thy forgiveness until he hath carried out his penance to both houses, which Benedick is yet to choose. And he is also responsible for the brave punishments to be laid at Don John's door.”

Footsteps could be heard, and then Beatrice marched into the room regally, her face like stone. Benedick trailed a step or two behind, followed by their footmen. They had each changed attire; she in a green dress meant for casual days and having kept her hair in its formal binding to save time, he in black trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt that exposed part of his chest wound to the air.

“I see the tale hath been told,” Beatrice said, her voice as sharp as fingers snapping.

"Crisp you sound this evening, Lady Beatrice," Claudio noted, managing to keep to his feet out of respect.

"Aye, Claudio, as crisp as a Winter morn in England!" she rebuked as she approached. Without warning, she punched him, sending him spinning and landing on his rump. He made little effort to alter his fall, for one hand was still needed to preserve what was left of his dignity.

Benedick hid a smile and did not offer his friend a hand up. Instead he remarked, before any of the stunned women could protest with a question, "As fair a strike as a man. Would you not agree, Claudio?"

Claudio could only grunt in pain and dab at his blooded nose.

"Come come, Claudio, where be your manners?" Benedick goaded.

"I smack'd them from him," Beatrice supposed, and turned away, head held high. "Once and four times I brought fourth the fruit of my husband. I dare say I made less noise than this whelp makes at a bruised ego." She glanced back at the man still on the floor. "I dare say I smack'd him fairly?"

"To appease both your honour and Hero's," Benedick added.

Claudio blanched. "You told her what I said?"

"No secrets between me and my wife," Benedick replied.

Don Pedro closed his eyes and nodded grimly. Only a matter of confidence or the details of the battlefield would prevent Benedick from sharing something with Beatrice. He had called this one. And of all the women Innogen seemed to suspect what Claudio had said, for her eyes flashed daggers at the Count.

Claudio got to his feet, holding his stomach and a cry from escaping, and turned to Beatrice. "I spoke in anger against thee and thine husband, more than once. But I did not mean a word of it, particularly those spoken in the courtyard. It is for only a blind man to miss the likeness of father and son, father and daughter. I am certain that meeting you in a duel as honour requests would be the end of me."

"Honour is satisfied. Let us speak no more of it," the Prince begged. "There is dishonour elsewhere in this House that needs the light left of this day to air."

The women in the room looked at him in alarm.

“What mean you, Prince?” Innogen demanded, noting his pale face and grim manner.

Angelo had to speak next. “I believe I have more right to demand it; your words cast aspersion on my own family.”

“I beg thee, good man, to let me speak and explain, for the answer reveals the depth of my family's shame in my brother's life and my actions in a never-ending attempt to make some right out of it.”

He had his audience's attention, and took a deep breath to prepare himself as even Claudio listened in rapt attention. This would be shaming, but he had no choice. “A man hath the obligation to care for any children borne outside the marital bed, but mine brother though denying having needs hath neither acknowledg'd nor provid'd for any of the bastards he sired. I do not pretend to be a saint, but I have honoured my responsibilities and seen to what ought to have been his.”

Benedick's eyes widened, and Beatrice's flew to his face to see how much he suspected.

“When I first came to this house with mine brother over twenty years hence I had no inkling that he might have caus'd such shame. But one of his men on dying from battle wounds made a confession to me; that his master had boasted of using a spice drink and tricking a gentlewoman of Leonato's household that she had lain with her husband when in truth it was my brother.”

Horror spread to the entire room, save for one villain. Even Borachio and Conrade looked at Don John in dismay. But Leonato and Innogen froze solid.

“I could not prove it, but I made a point of returning here as soon as duty permitted to see with mine own eyes if any issue had become of his villainies.” Don Pedro looked sadly at Margaret. “When I laid eyes on Ursula's then youngest having overheard ponderings of whence her different looks came, I saw in her the picture of my brother's mother, whose shame ended when she died bringing him into the world. I dared not suggest it for fear of breaking a marriage that was clearly happy, but I ensured that her living would not create a burden on the household of the man she knew as her father.”

Complete silence ruled the room. Shock filled it, save for the satisfaction on Don John's face.

Beatrice looked at Benedick and gaged his guarded reaction as his gaze met hers. She instantly suspected why he had kept silent about his suspicions, for she saw a look of the grimness of them being confirmed. Ursula had to sink into the chair Margaret had needed moments before, and her daughters went to her side to help her hide her tears as Angelo numbly placed a hand on her shoulder.

But Innogen and Leonato were the most horrified, he more so. The acts of servants reflected on the master, and so had this got out he would have been toppled in a coup. Not even his honorable nephew could have helped him. He owed everything to Don Pedro's efforts at secrecy. The shock forced him to sit, and Innogen hurried to his side, clutching his hand as much to comfort as to be comforted.

Angelo found his voice. “Then the money we receiv'd from unknown source, that hath continued as Margaret grew, it was from thee, my lord?”

“Yea, master Angelo. I am sorry to have spoken of it; I only say that my anger at my brother knew no bounds as he had to know that Margaret might be his as more than one lady in his mother's family resembles her and yet he still used her in his plot against Hero. That hath push'd me beyond the bounds of respect for my father's desperate wish that his bastard might prove a worthy soldier; he must be stopp'd, and made to account for the shame he imposed on this and other houses.”

Don John smirked. He might have no escape, but there was yet one more shame he could deal his brother and Leonato. “You think you know of all my cunning, or that you could name all of the innocents I beguiled.”

Don Pedro whirled on him. “I hath tracked your steps; even when we were sunder'd I had men check on thy behaviour. I am certain thou only hath the four misbegottens! Only one hath lived in innocence of her origins; the others I had to find their mothers husbands willing to accept them and raise the bastards under their roof in some other part of the kingdom – away from thy sight or influence!”

“One other bastard stands in this very room, my brother,” Don John returned without remorse.

Exclamations of shock, dismay, and disbelief flooded the room. But four people looked like they could guess what the villain was about to say. One looked to his mother who stood stock still and pale, and their lord and lady grasped each other's hand in instinct even as the lord's face turned even grimmer with confirmation.

“Burdening a forward march-chick with shame and a possible by-blow is the make of a villain, though one I have had to conceal to avoid thy wrath, brother. I knew each was mine and delight'd in the deception and the burdens thou took upon thyself. When we here for the marriage of Senor Benedick to Lady Beatrice, I could not resist the opportunity to mischief-make and saw an opening in the child of one who did not realise I had shamed her over ten years hence.”

An explosion of cries and shouts burst into the room, even from Borachio and Conrade, who each looked as though they would have rather died than commit such villainy. All eyes turned to Maria, realization hitting them all how much Bruno resembled Don John.

Maria burst into tears, missing the gentle restraining hand of Benedick – who happened to be nearest – on her arm. Hero and Beatrice tried to hold her back, away from her attacker as she shouted, “How dare you! I only knew I was in pain from that moment, and wish'd only to bathe in acid to remove my shame!”

Bruno turned and stepped into Benedick's line of sight, an imploring and angry look on his face.

“Thou denied me a marriage I was expecting, a love I have been torn from as I was cast to the bottom of the household!” Maria continued, barely aware of the looks she drew – especially of Balthasar, whose eyes shone with the pain of wishing to be able to comfort her.

It fell to Margaret and Ursula to fly to her side. Angelo stood motionless, struck dumb by the pain of feeling how much he had failed his family – his wife and eldest daughter beguiled by the same villain!

While Maria protested her pain, Benedick assessed the silent plea of her son for a moment and then tapped one of his soldiers on the arm – the Captain of his men, a large man who had fought beside him ever since his first battle for Padua. The Captain frowned in confusion as his Lord whispered a command, but it was obeyed at once as he was fiercely loyal to the man whom he had followed into the Prince's service.

“'Tis the nature of the world to punish woman for man's deeds,” Don John said proudly. The sight of her pain only pleased him further.

But he was momentarily silenced when Benedick's man walked over and forced him to his knees. The Captain was so much larger he had no chance of resisting.

At a slight nod from Benedick, Bruno marched over and punched the stunned Don John in the left eye.

The room was shocked, but Don John was hardly silent. “How dare thee, bastard!”

Bruno did not let him continue. “That, thou excuse of a Count, is for the Lady Hero and bringing her and her family misery!” He promptly punched the right eye. “That is for dragging my aunt into your scheme!” He threw another, breaking Don John's nose, making him fall to the floor. “That's for my grandmother!”

And then, with all the weight he could muster, he stomped on the villain's organ, drawing an agonized scream. Which made every man in the room flinch without thought, to varying degrees.

“And that... is for my mother, and everything you reduc'd her to!” Bruno stood tall over the man who had wrought so much mischief into his life even before he was born. “Be glad, Snake, that I am not permitt'd a sword!”

The room was silent, not quite reacting to the boy's actions. Although Beatrice gave her husband a look that said she at last understood his meaning, and Maria's tears lessened as she comprehended that her son had done what not even Senor Benedick could: right her.

Bruno turned away and walked to his mother, but was stopped by Don Pedro. He looked the Prince in the eye. “I asked for permission to confront the man who caused my mother so much pain. I was given my lord Benedick's oath that I could. Do you wish to tell me I was wrong to avenge my family?”

“Nay, Boy, thou acted within thy rights. I see the very best in my line managed to find its way into your blood-”

“Have I not earn'd a name that you must still address me as naught, sir?”

The Prince paused, embarrassed and instantly forgiving the interruption. “A mistake I shall correct at once, for you have truly earn'd name and respect. Tell the world your name, that she may also pay her respects.”

“My name, my lord, is Bruno,” he said, standing taller with for the pride he could see the Prince's eyes.

Don Pedro smiled, tinted with sadness for how this had come to pass. “I regret that I am limited in what I can do for thee at present. Yet know that I shall ensure you receive a portion equal to what your mother ought to have received for thy education and rearing; I say no shame attaches to her, and she may marry if she wishes and there is one who will have her.”

“I would, my lord,” proclaimed Balthasar. He stepped forward to Maria's side, and she stared at him with a look that dared not hope. “I had been courting her when this happen'd, and familial honour forbade me from seeking her hand as I was beholden to my late wife's family's wishes for my children were still young. But they are old enough to understand the truth, and I will have Maria and foster her son into respectability if she will still have me.”

Maria tore from her family and threw her arms around him, bursting into the tears of a pain held in for ten years. It made more than a few eyes weep, and the households applauded that Maria would at last claim the happiness she deserved and be restored to her rightful place.

Ignoring the moans of pain from the richly punished Don John, the Prince smiled in relief. “It gladdens my heart to know that some good hath grown from today, and I have great hopes for thee, Bruno. Cultivate the keen mind I sense in thee and prove thy worth, and I shall see that thou shall go far in this world. It will be an honour to be able to call thee nephew and reward thy good behaviour, for thou hast clearly learnt well under thy master's care.”

Bruno found a large smile to bestow on the man he was now willing to call Uncle if permitted to. It grew bigger as those in the room applauded him and Don Pedro.

Beatrice turned to Benedick once the clapping faded almost completely. “How long hath you suspected, husband?”

“From early after Bruno's birth, but as Maria could not remember who had harmed her I had no proof. I had even less when I began to note how like Margaret he was, and dared not speak of that as I respected Angelo and Ursula too much.”

“Thy restraint shows in both war and peace, Benedick,” proclaimed Don Pedro. “And here I must speak.” He signaled to one of his men, who brought forward the two envelopes delivered earlier. He accepted and approached Benedick and Beatrice. “In addition to whatever heavy weight thy believes I hath earn'd for my sin, I would bend under additional weight to see thee return to my service. And yet no matter thy answer there are two courtesies I must bestow on thee for thy years as the man who ought to have been call'd my right hand.” He held out one envelope.

The couple exchanged a puzzled look, taking special note that both were already opened, and Beatrice accepted, opening it and holding it so they could both read it. Soon their faces dropped with shock. She managed to speak first. “My lord... you mean to grant us your estate that borders ours, the estate in Monforte?”

“Yea, for thy House and thy heirs. Benedick's valour hast serviced this country well, and I am ashamed that it in its quietness hath long been overlook'd. It is a fair reward for such worthy deeds.”

There was more applause. Claudio would have joined if he did not still have to hold his trousers up.

“And there is yet more,” Don Pedro added, holding out the additional envelope.

This time Benedick took it and opened it. He and Beatrice's faces registered even greater shock, and neither could speak.

“I had intend'd on account of the services perform'd over the years to grant thee the title of Marquis, an honour that Claudio agreed suited thy years of service and valour – particularly as thou adopted the mantle of a noble House of great tradition. Such actions long made me desire that I could call thee brother in truth instead of merely brother-in-arms, and to see that thy expand'd duties would grant thee more time at home even should thou continue to follow me in war. I shall not expect an answer regarding a withdrawal of thy resignation, not until mine own weight is carried out. The King, my father, received my request and deem'd thy actions worthy of a greater honour. Be known as Senor Benedick of Padua no more; henceforth be known as Duke Benedick of Messina and Monforte.”

Silence ruled the room for a long moment as each tried to let it sink in that the King had essentially declared Benedick a nephew in honor. Then first Innogen and then Leonato led by clapping loudly, and all unbound were cheering and applauding. Even Claudio sat in order to join in.

Don John managed to hear the news, but his added pain was completely overlooked by all. He had attempted all these years of villainy to gain position and rank, to discredit Leonato as governor and take Messina as his own, but it had all been for naught.

No one seemed more delighted than Leonato, who realized that his own weight would be lessened and he would not have to worry so much about who would take over as governor when he passed. Innogen's joy was only slightly less, for she would see her precious niece rise to a place where her word would be respected by far more – as she would surely rule in her husband's name whilst he was away, and together when he was at home, just as they did already.

The stunned couple looked at each other for a long moment, and swallowed at the same instant. What else could they do? They managed to numbly say, almost as one and just barely loud enough to carry across the room even with all quieting to hear them, “We thank you, Prince.” And one by one accepted Don Pedro's handshake.

The cheering began anew. It did not remove the pain of the day, but it promised a new beginning for all.


Chapter Ten: Strike Up... Pipers
and...
DVD Extra the Fourth

Chapter Text

Title: Seals of Love
Genre: Much Ado About Nothing
Rating: T (some implications)
Author: tkel_paris
Summary: Written as a Christmas present for sykira. A what if inspired by my writing “Glance of Love” and the indications of what might have been for Benedick and Beatrice had their merry war not been triggered.
Disclaimer: Good lord, I'm writing fanfic about a Shakespeare play! Do I need to write that I own nothing? Especially when it's inspired by a particular stage performance?
Dedication: sykira. You're welcome, love. :D And huge thanks to tardis_mole for helping me rework the play, and to bas_math_girl for her help as well.
Author's Note: When my Muse got the bug that later became “Glance of Love”, she got a few other ideas as well. And there are TWO more where this came from. :DDDDD

Oh, and a shout-out to hezikiah, for posting a youtube video of her daughter. It inspired me to make a little addition to the end. Please thank Nora for me. :D



Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine
DVD Extra the First / DVD Extra the Second / DVD Extra the Third / DVD Extra the Fourth

CHAPTER TEN: STRIKE UP... PIPERS

Claudio sat in silence amongst the gathering, not listening as the Prince spoke with the Friar. The day he had begun to think would never happen was here. A year to the day after his greatest misjudgement. It had been a long and difficult year, and more than once did he want to sink into drinking and end it all. Especially when he learned Benedick's choice of punishment.

Claudio had walked beside Don Pedro and stopped before Benedick and Leonato. The rest of their Houses were also gathered, along with the villains of the plot to disgrace Hero. Those three were to learn their punishments today, the day after the would-be wedding, and Claudio and the Prince would learn the weights they had to bend under.

Leonato spoke to the entire gathering, which included gentlemen and ladies of the town and surrounding area who had witnessed the challenge at the church. “My nephew, who hath been bestowed additional honours, shall now announce the brave punishments intended for those who wronged Hero yesterday and the night before. And then he shall declare the recompense required of the Prince and the Count for their unwitting parts in the matter. Nephew, proceed.”

Benedick stepped forward, military persona and stride firmly in place, to face Borachio and Conrade. “For thy actions, Borachio and Conrade, all coin earn'd from thy master's commands recently must be paid to Margaret to compensate her for beguiling her into giving unwitting assistance to thy plot; thou shall face imprisonment for a year, and then the Prince or the King shall determine where thy shall go after. And I urge the Prince to see thy social rank stripped.”

Both flinched, Conrade more so as his rank was higher. Yet neither did more than nod before lowering their respective heads in shame.

Benedick then slowly walked to stare down the wounded Don John, taking in how his eyes were black and swollen, his nose ruined, and he could barely stand straight from the final wound Bruno delivered. He had to suppress a smile as the snake tried to conceal his unease and uncertainty. “Thy final punishment shall be determined by the King, thy sire; here in Messina, thou shall be given labours I know thou hath done everything to avoid during many actions to complete under guard and beaten for failure to complete them as commanded.”

Claudio kept his mouth tightly closed, noting the Prince's lips thinning. No one was kidding themselves if they thought Don John would long survive his latest villainies. But that was a punishment that only the King could command. Benedick was ensuring that the man feel shamed as long as may be, in the only way he knew would make any influence on the bastard.

Finally Benedick approached the Prince and Claudio. The two stood taller, prepared to face whatever he had to say.

“Prince, address the people of Messina to explain how the deception was put together, and how a man of thy honour and wisdom was able to be persuaded to contribute to the attempt at publicly disgracing my cousin and my uncle. Beyond that, I may require consulting with the King to feel that honour is completely satisfied.”

Don Pedro nodded. “I shall explain that I gave my word. And what of Claudio?”

“There I shall require thy assistance that the punishment shall be carried out, for his penance is more severe.”

The two men paused, but the Prince nodded.

“Claudio, for your actions which have disgraced thy honour, be discharg'd from the Prince's service, including from all military action, for one year. During that year you shall enter into service as a footman in Leonato's House.”

The observers exploded into whispered discussion, but the members of the Houses were silent. Even Hero, whose expression showed that she had been warned about Benedick's choice.

Claudio found it a cruel and fitting choice. It kept him near to Hero, which ensured he always remembered what he had done to bring himself into the situation. To top things off, he was forced to live at the bottom of the ranks, and had to quickly learn the rules of servants from their side.

He had been aware that there were rules of conduct, and been aware of his role as master to enforce them, but he had no idea that he could be beaten by both the housekeeper and the butler for even the slightest infringement of the servants' rulebook, and often by both of them for the same infringement. It only took three before he made a point of memorizing everything he had to know as a footman.

But between his own need for redemption and the steadying presence of the Prince, he had held on through the worst that Benedick and Leonato had thrown at him. Not to mention the other members of the Houses, who all ensured that he endured the worst of the tasks that a footman could be given.

To add to his mortification, he soon learned something he had not known about Leonato's House, and Benedick's and Beatrice's. Something that added to his shame.

One thing Claudio did not know how he would manage was hearing people talking about him, and being unable to respond unless given permission to speak. The housekeeper had chosen to enforce that rule on him after his latest infraction. He still felt sore from the beating, and his nose had only just recovered from Beatrice's punch.

Today the talk was between Angelo, Ursula, and Margaret. They entered the room where he was sitting cleaning. Margaret had accompanied Leonato, Innogen, and Hero to witness Benedick and Beatrice receive the full garments and honors owed them as Duke and Duchess. Maria and Balthasar, newly married just three days prior to the departure for the Court, joined them. Claudio had gathered that the intention was to also allow Bruno, now having gained respectability as the King had the authority to make the lad's stepfather his legal sire, a chance to observe the sort of world he might be able to be part of depending on how he grew up.

Margaret had been told that Angelo thought and felt no differently toward her. She had been 'child of mine heart and soul since I laid eyes on thee, and no villainies could make thee otherwise.' It seemed her true origins were to remain secret for the sake of her family and Leonato's House. Claudio considered it wise, for it also further thwarted Don John's wishes.

“Daughter, what did thy see? How was the Court?” asked Ursula.

“Yes, tell us, Child, for we wish to know how our new Lord and Lady fared,” added Angelo.

Claudio continued the shoe cleaning he had been tasked with. He made it look as though his attention was only for his chore, but his ears were attuned to the conversation. It sounded from the eager interest the couple showed that they had had a considerable hand in raising Beatrice.

Margaret's tale was a grand one of the pomp and ceremony, and of what the Court itself was like. She added with great energy how some member had been aghast at Benedick's insistence that Beatrice walk alongside him to receive the honors.

“His grace, our Lord Benedick, held his displeasure under regulation, but even I could mark it. He turned to the Court and began speaking of the history of Beatrice's family, of the honours earn'd ever since the first gained the family's great house; that she had learn'd all she could of her history to feel connection to her august ancestors, and that study included the family of her late mother, that of the Governor's sister: what a rich history that is! There, too, reminded Benedick, is a family where the honours were earn'd with generation adding to those already given.”

Claudio faltered his task. Now his attention was fully on the conversation.

Margaret continued, after her parents murmured something that Claudio did not catch. “O how so many looked green after he finished that retelling! The King himself recalled bestowing one such honour each on a young Leonato and Beatrice's father, speaking of what an honourable sacrifice it was that Benedick would resign the crest of his father to bear that of Beatrice's. And yet Benedick viewed it otherwise, and dared to say so: 'My lord the King, the Lords and Gentlemen of the Court,' said he, 'there was no sacrifice; I hath older brothers who shall carry my father's traditions, but as youngest son I had to make mine own way in the world. The expectations of home were not where mine talents lay nor did they seem to suit the sort of man God hath moulded me into; 'twas only when I found in Lady Beatrice a rare intelligence, wit, and wisdom capable of ruling a land in her own right that I felt I not only had found mine path but true honour. Beatrice's refusals of past suitors was as much to ensure she was respected as her family's last scion as to protect her family's legacy from being subsumed to some other line; I vowed to take up its mantle so a noble lineage would carry on, and our sons shall bear it proudly. Call me a fool in love, but do not cast into doubt all I hath done before and since wearing my lady's crest.'”

The trio left the room as Ursula needed to carry some laundry to another part of the house and Claudio could not hear any more words. He was pale and stricken. Benedick's family he knew had a great history of service that earned honors, but what had he bothered to learn about Hero's? And to know that Beatrice's family was the same?

When he had the opportunity, he approached the butler for permission to study their master's family history to better serve the family. The man was shocked enough to ask Leonato himself to judge the request.

“Why study my history now, Claudio?”

He heard the rebuke for what it was, but never looked away. “I hath made a painful realisation in that thy family history is far superior to mine own. A title we hath, but merely remembered from the long forgotten valour of an ancestor; it hath been inherited at birth, rendering the honours little more than empty words and dusty papers. Let me learn the traditions and history of this House that I may hope to regain some of the respect I once could claim of you, and of your daughter.”

It had been an uncomfortable interview, but Leonato had granted the request. So he was able to study in what little spare time he was granted. What other time wasn't occupied by either footman duties or study was essentially being retrained by Benedick – or by observing the Duke – in how to be a gentleman in behavior. Where he might have once considered that insulting it quickly became an eye-opening experience in learning why Benedick had spoken the way he had when he originally challenged whether Claudio was ready to be wed.

One thing Claudio had noticed was how readily most men and lords spoke of how they came to directly serve in the Prince's company. Not Benedick. He had always made a joke of it, and Claudio had been wise enough to tell that it was not the truth even before the Prince seemed willing not only to let Benedick change the subject every time but to keep to the new topic.

At last he found a moment to ask him in seriousness for the truth. For the longest time, it seemed Benedick's silence indicated he would not answer. But he did, and it slowly came out.

“I grew into manhood watching my father teach us to rule and yet he kept proving that men were often unsuited to the role; I saw mine mother suffer under his rule, endure his numerous casting aside his vows and having to welcome the bastards that resulted... and endure a shame that was not hers to bare unnoticed.” He sighed. “I knew it to be wrong, but what could I say that would not make mine own life harder? I was at odds with mine father from early in life, and living among the soldiers was mine only escape in Padua. I railed against marriage because I swore I would never put a woman through what mine father did, and I watched mine brothers march right into marriages where they did not respect the lady as half themselves, brought a mistress into the house even! No, I could not do that; so as soon as I was of age I began living amongst my men so I did not have to watch the continued degregations against the women of mine family, and could not help thanking God that I had no sisters to watch endure marriage to the same sort of men. The King and Prince arrived for the marriage of the younger of my brothers, and they saw my dispute with mine father. My new sister was a sweet girl and I grieved at her situation. When the Prince offered for my services, I accepted before mine father could change the terms. I have not been back to Padua since, except to fetch mine family for my marriage for I hath successfully made reasons to be unable to return, often with the Prince's assistance. Although Beatrice and I intend to offer for mine mother to come live in Messina should she survive my father.”

The remembered pain and shame and anger struck Claudio. He had been rendered silent, trying to imagine how he would have fared if he had seen and felt the same. He only knew that Benedick was always wiser than he, for he would not have had the restraint Benedick had to ensure he lived his life on his own terms. Small wonder then that he chose Beatrice, who he heard that Benedick's father had not at all approved of despite the noble lineage; she was sanctuary for Benedick, hope in a world that often lacked it, and gave him a place to be lord and master as their judgments seemed often united.

That drove him into his studies even more, wishing to become half the man Benedick was. It gave him distraction from when suitors came to try for Hero's hand.

He felt a gentle hand grip his. He looked up and smiled. And yet he now had his reward. The Lady Hero was at last his Countess. He had earned forgiveness and her hand.

To his amazement, Hero had refused all other suitors and had watched his progress, even speaking with him while being chaperoned by others. Only a week before she had gone to her father and to Benedick, begging them to release Claudio that she might make him a full man at her side. No one had said anything about his being permitted to ask Hero for her hand again, but she swore she saw a redeemable man.

He stood and smiled at his new bride. Perhaps now he could call himself a man and a lord.

Meanwhile, Don Pedro finished his talk with the Friar and watched the man walk away. He sighed, remembering his own punishment at the combined hands of his father and Benedick. Admitting to the whole of Messina – or so it felt – that he had made a grave mistake had been bad enough on his ego, but his father had imposed one greater punishment, one that he had to live with for the rest of his days.

He had to personally execute Don John. The King considered doing it himself as a self-induced penance for inflicting the man on the world, but his own hands were not steady enough anymore. So Don Pedro did it without hesitation, but the task brought him to tears; when all was said and done, Don John had still been the brother he had grown up with.

Although it made the rest of the day when the King arrived to pass judgement and opinion on the events brought about by Don John less painful to remember.

The trumpets sounded, announcing the King's arrival. Don Pedro and Leonato, at the former's insistence, walked side by side leading the large party to greet the King, who walked in with several courtiers following him.

The King smiled upon seeing Don Pedro. “My son and heir, are thee still awaiting upon the day of my eternal rest? I would hate to disappoint thee too often.”

“Nay, sir, I am destined to grow old in thy shadow and grumble a silent count of years.”

“Ah,” the King noted, as though unsurprised by the response or well versed in hearing such retorts. “Still not gained the eye of a woman, then?”

“Not as yet. I fear all such ladies are scared off by mine too-lazy-to-die father.”

The King laughed heartily and embraced his son. “Glad is my heart that thy wit has not deserted thee. Leonato, it hath been too long. I trust that I shall see thee and thy family at the important events at Court to be soon held.”

“Nothing hath been more look'd forward to, my liege. I only wish the occasion were happier.”

“As do I, my old friend.” The two men greeted each other much as the Prince and Leonato had a week earlier, although a more somber note accompanied it.

The King quickly saw the pair standing nearby. “And here we hath the greatest soldier and leader of men I hath ever seen, the worthiest man to attain high rank. Benedick, hath thou not parted life under wifely thumb or away at quest of war?”

“No, sir, I slapped the latter into suckling babe and gave it as an offering to wife, while I, her lesser, yearned for the other thumb.”

The King laughed. “Thy wit is ever stronger. And at last I am in the presence of the lady who brought thee into the very state thy railed against! Are you an angel to work such a miracle, Lady Beatrice?”

She laughed. “Nay, your Majesty, for most who had known of me would have declared me a demon; being so contrary to what men expected of women was perhaps the first attraction in mine husband's eye, and we determined that we were each what the other had been missing all our lives.”

Aware of the Greek story she was referencing, the King nodded and even bowed slightly over her hand, acknowledging the marvel that he felt she had worked. He had soon proclaimed her charming, her children delightful and everything young lords and ladies ought to be, and blessed their new lands for the leadership they would know. He even added, “Duchess Beatrice, if thou knowst of ladies like thee, I beg thee introduce my son to them.”

She smiled and nodded, but if Benedick's expression was any indication, she would only do it if she thought the Prince worthy of them.

Of course the visit soon turned somber, for the King asked to be introduced to those he needed to know. The phrasing was to prevent anyone from thinking he meant other than those known to be wronged by his bastard son, and anyone who could not know the truth was sent home as soon as politeness permitted and then certain members of the Houses were called forward.

Angelo led his family in, with his wife and Margaret by his sides. Maria followed, holding Bruno's hand. No one missed the King's sudden indrawn breath as he saw Margaret, nor that he could not look away for such a long moment that Margaret felt uncomfortable; only when he realized he was making her uneasy did he notice Bruno, and the boy's looks made his newly identified grandfather still.

The King was silent for a long moment as he took in the two. At length he heard the tales of what happened, first from the mothers and then from Don Pedro given what his brother had owned up to. It was made clear that Angelo still loved Margaret as his own and desired to keep her origins a secret. The King had Margaret step forward and sit beside him, speaking with her in low tones that the Prince could not quite overhear. He did understand enough to know before his father spoke that Margaret would remain publicly known as Angelo's daughter, but that the King intended to see that her children would have opportunities to rise in the world. The attentions to Margaret that he could bestow on her would be seen as the monarch trying to make amends for her being deceived and used.

Then he had Bruno step closer, and the boy's determination to not show any fear or nervousness made an impression. The King was surprised at the education Bruno showed, and learned of Benedick and Beatrice's quiet tutoring of him; that they were willing to risk so for Maria's boy spoke to their sense of right and made him more convinced that he had done well to elevate them to their new rank. He unknowingly reiterated all that Don Pedro himself had said and spoke with high hopes of what Bruno might be able to achieve now that he could claim full education and training.

Speaking of his nephew, Don Pedro looked to see Bruno helping his now legal sire Balthasar in setting up the music for the reception. Near as he could tell, the boy had been accepted by his step-siblings and was proving to be everything he hoped. The King would be very pleased with his latest report on how his unplanned grandchildren fared.

As for Margaret, she was speaking quietly with Titus. It seemed after learning of Borachio's treachery the antics of a man like Titus were looked on with much more acceptance and fondness than ever before. The Prince suspected that there would be another match by next year at the latest. Surely she would follow the example of her sister, whose own happiness shone brightly. More so now that Maria had acknowledged herself four months gone with the fruit of her husband. That lady was speaking with Hero about being a wife, with an authority that even Claudio was listening to.

Don Pedro looked around and realized there was something missing. “And where did Benedick and Beatrice go to? How could they slip off so silently?”

Adrian smiled. “Practice, your grace.”

The Prince had to laugh. “I see thy parents' wit hath become part of thee, young Marquis. Pray you use it well into adulthood, for a wife of your own would be the better for it, do you not think?”

“I plan to, sir,” Adrian responded with a thoughtful smile. “But not until I reach maturity and not until the girl woman becomes a woman.”

“To prove you are your mother's son?” Don Pedro asked.

“And my father's,” Adrian insisted, very seriously. “I would shame them both if I failed to be half my father's son.”

“Or not our father's son at all,” Ignac supposed.

“Here, here,” Crispiin agreed, to which their sisters' giggled.

Don Pedro was impressed. If the five-years old Ignac could make that joke, then they had all not only healed from the shock of the events a year prior but had grown further into their own intelligences. Of course, what else could be expected from the children of Benedick and Beatrice?

Then the couple entered, holding each other with one arm, and the reason for their departure was clear. Each held an alert three-month old infant girl against them, and were beaming at their respective bundles. Benedick was making faces at his daughters, and they squealed with laughter. Beatrice was giggling with a closed mouth at his efforts and yet made no move to quiet him.

Beatrice's pregnancy had started rather more roughly than her previous, and more than once she and her husband feared that this fruit of their love would not see flowering. Fortunately, the twin girls had not only survived, they came late and rather large for twins. They plainly had their parents' combined stubbornness.

Don Pedro smiled, and then realized one of the girls was looking at him and smiling. He laughed and waved at her. The girls had their mother's hair, but their faces reminded him a great deal of their father; and yet they were no less beautiful than their sisters. “How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?”

The tease was a reminder of the difference more than eleven years made on a person, and the utter difference shown in Benedick from the time they had met. He was curious to know how the Duke would answer.

Benedick's attention was slowly pulled from his daughters, and he took a deep breath. “I'll tell thee what, Prince; a college of witcrackers could not flout me out of my humour when I began this path, and cannot flout me out of it now. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear nothing handsome about him. In brief, ever since I purpos'd to marry, I have thought nothing to any purpose that the world could say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I once said against it; for man is a giddy thing...”

He trailed off, looking a moment into the eyes of each of his children, from oldest to youngest, before staring deeply into Beatrice's. “...and this is my conclusion,” he finished, proudly.

Beatrice, having been silent to let her husband give his defense of his present state, gave him a tired smile. She found she had nothing to add that was worthy of her wit, and so she felt content to let him speak for them both.

Benedick squeezed his wife's side for a moment and then stepped away to command a certain person's attention, after he permitted the eager Maria to take his bundle. “For thy part, Claudio... I did think to have beaten thee, but seeing as thou hast completed the tasks set before thee and art now my kinsman, live unbruised.” But he slightly belied his words with a slap.

Claudio exclaimed wordlessly, but otherwise refused to react. His kinsman would be able to lord this over him for the rest of their days as he would not ever be really free from the debt, and he had not quite forgiven himself for failing Hero so greatly, and had not begun work on what had been said of his kinsman's wife and their children. So he simply accepted that, along with the admonishment, “And love my cousin!”

Hero took Claudio's arm and tugged him away, signaling that she had no wish for a male posturing match on her wedding day. And a pointed throat clearing from Beatrice ensured it would not happen.

The look in Benedick's eyes made Beatrice gently give Innogen the other twin, and his words soon made her glad for it. “We'll have a dance ere now we're both married, Claudio, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels.” He drew Beatrice into a move that had her squeal with delight. “Therefore play music!”

The sounds of Balthasar organizing the band and the equipment, and his children and stepson, could be heard over the scurrying of the guests to ensure that there was plenty of space for dancing. Benedick's hold on his wife slackened when he saw Don Pedro stand to the side and light himself a cigarette. Taking in his lord's resigned and heavy manner, Benedick joined him, careful to not draw attention to either of them. “Prince, thou art sad.”

There was no answer. Not even a look.

Benedick thought a moment but only had one response. “Get thee a wife.”

It drew Don Pedro's eyes up in questioning disbelief, tinged with the slightest amusement. He recalled with some bitter pride his own father's behest some months before, which he had kept to himself. Those exact same words. “I have none in mind that would sit well with both my heart and my father's seat,” he said. “As such none will. For a time yet.”

“Then search more completely and get thee a wife,” Benedick insisted, not backing down. “There is no staff more revered than one tipped with horn.”

Don Pedro nodded, managing a smile. Even once the dancing began, led at first by Benedick and Beatrice, to show that years of marriage never had to dampen the joys a couple found in each other. Shortly Claudio and Hero joined, their movements only hindered by her dress being so much bigger than her cousin's as she had chosen to save the dress from the previous wedding day.

Soon it was a mix of everyone dancing, even bringing the babies in – gently. The children were as much mocking the adults – in a carefully disguised way, although their efforts were not so necessary since the adults were all so focused on each other – as actually dancing themselves.

The only surprise was when Balthasar announced that Sienna wished to sing and dance for the occasion, with a variation on something he had put together last year. Request granted, he started an upbeat tune. Sienna began the kind of dancing a three-years-old girl could make adorable, and then began singing. If the topic might be a little beyond her, the mispronunciations and energy made her performance utterly charming. At times the adults surrounding the dance floor sang along with her, giving encouragement.

Only Don Pedro stood to the side, watching and lost in his thoughts. The joy that his subjects found in the moment did bring a smile to his face. Especially watching how proudly Benedick looked on the dancing of his third youngest. Yes, he slowly admitted to himself. Benedick was right. He needed to get a wife.

His mind drifted back to the first time his father had made the behest.

It had been a long day. Don Pedro had to watch his father declare that Don John would die the very next day, tell him of everything he'd done so far for Margaret and Bruno, roundly scolding Claudio (and Don Pedro himself) for believing Don John, and listen to many praises of Benedick.

The King suddenly changed topics. “Now, son, I have humoured thy bachelorhood with as much patience and wit as I can muster; the time of humour hath long passed, and the lands need an heir we can acknowledge so. Thou must get thee a wife.”

Don Pedro took a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands. “Father, I hath watched many marriages in mine years, and the one I wish to seek for is the sort that Benedick enjoys. He became the honourable man who fought for his own cousin's honour by marrying the Lady Beatrice. I cannot now marry unless it is to a woman who can inspire me to greater actions.”

“I respect thy desires, but the kingdom must have an heir. Find such a woman within a year, Son, or I shall begin to search for one for thee.”

Sighing as he overheard the little girl start singing again, Don Pedro looked around. He wanted to find something to focus on rather than how close Benedick's own words had hit to the King's. Or how he mourned yet again that Beatrice had no sister, and that she herself had spurned his advances – not that he had realized he was doing so at the time – in favor of taunting with Benedick years before. Was there a woman like her with the strength to make him a man like Benedick?

He did not want a marriage like his father's. As well as the Queen was treated, the Prince wished to do better by his Queen. There would be no more bastards born, and he did not wish for a mere political alliance.

The he noticed one of the ladies visiting for the wedding. She was also not dancing, but observing from the side. He recognized her as the only surviving child of another governor of the realm. He had even fought battles against their country and won, mostly because of Benedick. They had met once, at the signing of the treaty with her aging and now otherwise heirless father over a year before. It was the very action that Claudio had distinguished himself on.

He did not remember much about her, although he recalled evidence of wit. Indeed, Beatrice had greeted her like an old friend and the two had bantered enough to suggest that the lady could hold her own in a debate with the Duchess. He wondered why such a lady would be alone at a wedding.

Then her eyes lifted and met his. They stared at each other for a long moment, but then they slowly smiled – him warmly, her with a hint of encouragement to approach.

Just as the crowd shouted the final word of the song with Sienna, he put out his cigarette and decided to see what the future might hold.

THE END

Although you can go back to see a certain... Wedding Night... :DDDDD