Chapter Text
Alright let's go back to when it all started. It was the Fall of 17th-century England. William Shakespeare was working on his next big hit. He'd come into the bar every night where you worked and prattle on about some ‘love story' he was working on. Right…who were you exactly? Your name was Muriel Slyfield and you worked at the tavern where William Shakespeare lived. He lived upstairs in one of the apartments you rented out to him. He'd come in and out every other day with a new girl or some nights he wouldn't come in at all. Every night you'd serve him At Least a couple of beers along with his date.
Tonight was different. William came in alone after a long day of rehearsal. Sweat still on his forehead from the day of work. Every time he walked into the room his face would light up with a smile. It's almost as if you could hear trumpets playing and an angelic choir of people going ‘Shakespeare!’ as he entered the room.
“Slyfield!” He smiled sitting down in his usual spot. “Oh, you should've been there today, love! The sweet song of love filled the air!!” He sighed reminiscing about rehearsal that morning. “Well, anyway get me a regular…”
“Whiskey?”
“No No- uh…that fruity mead drink that I like! That's a good one!” He got out a notebook from his leather satchel along with a quill and ink.
You made him his drink. It was a strawberry and banana mead. Garnished with a few extra fruits. You hand it to him.
“Oh! Thank you, love!! You're amazing!” He takes a big sip before beginning to write. Shakespeare's handwriting was never legible, at least not to you. His handwriting was like a chicken scratch.
“So, What are you writing about this time?” You leaned over the counter looking at Shakespeare's notebook. “Some new play?”
“Sonnet actually…” he hummed. “I wrote it about you.” He smiled looking down at the paper. “Would you like to hear it?”
You Stammer a bit. You had had a crush on Shakespeare for a while. Much like the other women in town, maybe this was why. Shakespeare always had so much charisma. The way he'd talk smoothly and buy them a drink despite never actually paying for his tab. The way he'd write sonnets for people and now you were finally one of those people. William Shakespeare wrote a sonnet about you. You were overwhelmed with joy. All you knew to do was say yes.
So William put down his quill and cleared his throat dramatically. Then he began to read. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" He hardly glanced at the paper while reading as if he had it memorized by heart...which he had. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May," He looked at you with a small smile. "And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;" He spoke calmly but yet still in a dramatic sense. "But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade When in eternal lines to time thou growest: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see," He leaned across the bar towards you. "So long lives this and this gives life to thee."
Your faces were close. You thought about making them closer. However, Shakespeare pulled away before you were able to. “That was beautiful…thank you, Shakespeare.”
“Please love, call me Will.” He smiled while taking a sip of his drink. “could I get another one of these perchance?”
You scoff taking his empty stein. “Right on it.” You turn your back to make his drink. He goes back to writing. Maybe this was the start of something new for you.