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cookieswriting · 7 years

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What Matters - Ch 5

Over the following several days, Rosaline continued to watch over Benvolio as he regained small measures of strength at a time. She could tell that the limitations of his injury were leaving him restless; the longer he was able to remain awake and the more he was able to do independently, the more he sought to push himself. The Capulet lady found herself wondering on several occasions if times like these had once been made easier for him by the company of Romeo and Mercutio.

Then, he would have had friends by his side, laughing with him, distracting him from his discontent. They would have known the words to say to keep him from pacing the room like a caged animal. They would have known how to placate his stubborn pride, wounded as it was. Rosaline, on the other hand, felt helpless...useless to do anything for her husband-to-be. On multiple occasions this found them bickering, the present moment included.

“If you do not sit back down, you mule-headed clotpole, you will set back your healing and you will never leave this room!”

Benvolio was startled into silence by her insult, jaw hanging open slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest, and watched the excitement of a challenge light in his eyes. Just as he began to speak his retort, the door swung open to reveal the Prince. Benvolio automatically shifted towards her at the intrusion, and hissed as the abrupt movement likely pulled at his wound. Rosaline rolled her eyes, pushing her annoyance to the forefront in order to mask her concern, and ushered him to sit back on the bed. She watched him for a moment to be sure he would remain in place. It was not until he bowed his head submissively to Escalus that she turned and gave her own curtsey.

“Your Grace,” she murmured. When she turned her eyes to his face, he was watching the pair with amusement.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I am glad to see you recovering, Benvolio. Cerimon tells me that you will be prepared to move to the palace in just a few days. The sooner we are able to end this, the better. Your house is starting to fear you dead, and it is causing unrest.”

Benvolio gave a tired, bemused huff. “You mean they actually care if I live or not?”

Rosaline sent him a glare. “Benvolio will be well enough to leave soon enough...but measures must be taken to ensure his safety before I am comfortable with the idea of making my aunt aware that he still breathes.”

“Capulet, I will be fine. I need not be coddled like a child! I’ll not hide behind the Crown-”

“I will not allow my betrothed to be placed at unnecessary risk against the threat posed by my family. ” Her voice was low and steady, and the look she gave Benvolio dared him to challenge her further. Satisfaction filled her when he held his hands out to the side and dipped his chin in concession. Even in his surrender, his eyes held hers captivated, the fire in them threatening to consume her.

Escalus reminded the pair of his presence by clearing his throat, and Rosaline couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment. When she glanced up to her sovereign, the prince looked to be in pain. “When the time comes, send a messenger ahead and bring him discreetly under cover of night. I’ll not disturb you any longer.” Benvolio made to stand, but the prince settled a hand on his shoulder and gave him a weary smile. “Rest, Benvolio. You need not risk the wrath of your betrothed.” He nodded to Rosaline. “Lady Capulet.” Just like that, he was gone.

“Dare I say our Prince is...unsettled by the state of our relationship?” The Montague’s voice bordered upon smug, and he was smirking up at her when she turned to face him. Rosaline rolled her eyes.

“You mean the quarrelling? That is hardly anything new, beloved.”

Fingers snaked around her waist and pulled her down until she was precariously seated on his lap. Her breath caught in her throat, and heated blue eyes held her entranced. “I did not mean the quarrelling, beloved.” The hand around her waist tightened on her hip, and his free hand slid into the curls at the nape of her neck to pull her forward.

Rosaline had done her best to restrain herself since their first embrace, but she was quickly learning that he kissed the way he did most other things in life: with fire, focus, and intense passion. He traced his tongue along her upper lip, and grinned against her mouth when the sensation set her blood aflame and made her moan in the back of her throat. Her fiance drew back just enough to break the kiss, and Rosaline chased his lips without realizing, stopping only when he kneaded the base of her skull tenderly.

His lips grazed the tip of her nose, and then pressed to her forehead, and Rosaline found herself fighting back tears. She closed her eyes to keep them at bay. “Oh, my sweet Rosaline, you’ve no idea the power you hold over me. I’d have the Friar marry us today, if I could...but alas we must be patient,” he teased lightly.

When she finally opened her eyes once more, Benvolio was watching her with an emotion she was not yet ready to give name to...an emotion she was struggling to keep at bay herself. His breath was warm across her cheek. If she did not distance herself soon, she feared her nerves would unravel. “What would your uncle say of you if he heard such flowery, romantic promises? ‘Tis not becoming of a scoundrel who frequents the local brothel.” She pressed her temple to his for a moment, resting her chin on his shoulder, and sighed contentedly when he resumed his gentle massage of her neck.

“‘Tis very well then, that my uncle has oft been a woeful judge of my character.”

“That he has, Montague.” The hand around her waist moved to her back, and began tracing soothing likes up and down the length of her spine. “If you continue like this, my lord, I’ll surely fall asleep.” She was already halfway there.

“You would hear no complaints from me, Capulet.”

Rosaline was certain he spoke truthfully, but was reminded of his current limitations when she wrapped her own arms around him and brushed her fingers against the edge of his bandages. “Your back would complain enough for you, rest assured. Besides, you have pushed yourself quite enough for today. Please rest...read, sketch, sleep, it matters not...just rest .”

He offered her a smile as she stood, fingers tightening around her own when she stepped away. “Will you sit with me a while?”

Rosaline ran her fingers through his hair thoughtfully. “Cerimon needs to look you over. I will fetch some lunch for both of us while he does, and return before he finishes.” Benvolio nodded and kissed her knuckles, eyes following her as she stepped out. His words of power and marriage replayed in her mind, and an idea began to formulate as she made her way to the kitchen.

It took two more days for Benvolio to heal enough to move. His betrothed had been scarce since the Prince’s last visit, which she attributed to preparations and maintaining pretenses with her family. In his idle time, though, the Montague could not help but wonder if he had pressed her too far in the moments after Escalus excused himself. She hadn’t protested at the time, and had stayed with him until he fell asleep, but it seemed as though she were clinging to any excuse to stay far away from her own quarters.

He was not one prone to sitting idle, so his injury had brought him seemingly endless distress in recent days. Rosaline, though, had provided a source of light he’d never expected. Confined to a single room, a single bed, since the attack, his mind would often wander to the dark, dangerous places he’d finally thought himself free of. Each time, though, Rosaline would appear, something like an angel, and gently guide him back from the brink. Oh heavens, if Romeo could hear him waxing poetic for the woman he’d once loathed. He doubted she knew how deeply she had embedded herself into his spirit...how much he’d come to rely on her.

She would need only look in his sketchbook to discover the truth. As of late, she seemed to be all that he could draw; he’d developed an intimate knowledge of the curves of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, the passion so often found in her warm brown eyes.

“Are you well, Sir?” Benvolio looked up to see Cerimon poised in the doorway, and nodded. “It is time. Lady Rosaline is waiting in the carriage.” Benvolio carefully sat up and levered himself to his feet, unable to contain his victorious grin. Cerimon looked satisfied with his progress and offered him a hooded cloak. “Come, you will not be on your feet long.”

Despite his initial eagerness, the physician proved to be correct, and by the time they reached the alleyway Benvolio felt like he’d run for hours. He was grateful for the small mercy that this pain had kept to a dull pulse in his back. Exhaustion, though, had his knees quaking as he tried to step up into the carriage. Cerimon pressed a hand between his shoulders, and Rosaline grabbed his forearm. With their assistance, he managed to get himself into the seat alongside his betrothed. He winced at a particularly painful throb, and felt Rosaline’s hand settle over the wound on his back. Featherlight fingers pressed soothing circles into his muscle and distracted him from his tiredness, and before he knew it they were on their way.

“Benvolio, are you alright?” Rosaline’s concerned voice startled him. Blinking dazedly, he realized her hand was on his face and the streets were not immediately recognized at the Capulet-ruled portion of the city.

“Forgive me, my beloved. I believe I simply overestimated the return of my strength.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No, I assure you. Simply tired.” He held her gaze for a moment, laying his hand over hers on his cheek, and turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. Her eyelids fluttered at the contact and her breathing hitched, and once again he found himself wondering where he stood with his fiancee.

“We are close, you will be able to rest soon,” she murmured. She gestured outside of the carriage, where he saw that they’d crossed into the palace grounds and were nearing a set of stairs leading up to grand doors...and Prince Escalus. Benvolio took a slow, steadying breath. He tried to smother a grimace when his injury twinged, but the gentle stroke of Rosaline’s thumb along his cheek told him he’d failed. “Perhaps we moved you too soon.”

Benvolio curled his fingers around her hand and pulled it away from his face. As he held her gaze, he moved her hand to his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat. “I would not have made it out of that God-forsaken alley if not for you, Capulet. I…” The carriage came to a stop, and he cursed inwardly. There was so much he wanted to say to her before she could potentially be whisked away from him by their sovereign. “I will press on with the strength you provide. Worry not.”

Rosaline had no time to respond, as Cerimon stepped up to offer his assistance for Benvolio. She settled her hand on his shoulder, only letting him go when she had to get out of the carriage herself. As he watched her, his strength wavered, and he felt himself sway. Cerimon eased himself under the Montague’s arm to provide support. He was grateful for the silent gesture. Rosaline joined them immediately, bracing him on his other side, and they had to practically carry him up the stairs. Benvolio breathed through dizziness, muscles screaming for him to give up, rest, let go. He refused to even entertain the thought of resting until they’d spoken to the Prince and he was no longer watching.

When they finally made it to Escalus, the man was kind enough to lead them directly to a room not far off the foyer. Cerimon and Rosaline lowered Benvolio onto the bed in the center of the grand guest room, and Benvolio was sure if he’d possessed more energy he’d appreciate the stunning decorations. Cerimon moved to step back, but Benvolio grasped his wrist. “Wait, sir...I must thank you. This feud has taken much from both of our houses. I know it must not have been easy to save the life of a Montague...but I certainly would not have continued breathing without your expert skills. Sincerely, I thank you.”

“If there is anyone will be able to put an end to the bloodshed, I believe it to be yourself and your betrothed. All I ask is that you care for her well.”

Benvolio was momentarily stunned into silence, a glance to his beloved showing the same reaction in her. Once he regained his voice, he nodded. “To my last breath,” he vowed. Cerimon smiled warmly, bowed to all of them, and took his leave. Benvolio leaned his head back against the pillow bracing him with a tired sigh.

With him gone, Rosaline sat herself on the bed facing Benvolio. He lifted his head once more and raised an eyebrow at her when she situated herself so that her hip pressed to his side, as if she could not bear to be separated from him. In light of her behavior the days before, he desperately wished the Prince would excuse himself so that they could talk.

Alas, the Prince remained. “I apologize that your travel was not easier, Benvolio. I’ll not keep you long. I simply wanted to make you both aware that we are continuing to work on a course of action to end the threat to your life.”

Benvolio nodded respectfully. His betrothed was not quite so content with the statement. Her face reflected this, and she straightened her back. She turned away from Benvolio to face the Prince, shielding her face from her fiance. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I cannot accept that. The answer to our problem is simple: My aunt would wish to see Benvolio killed before the wedding...so let the wedding take place sooner rather than later.” Shock stole Benvolio’s breath, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest. He stared at the back of her head, unable to even look away to see how their sovereign was processing her suggestion. Demand, more like, he thought to himself with awe. “As soon as Benvolio has fully healed,” she murmured, finally turning to gauge his reaction. He hoped that the look he gave her reflected his hope, agreement, and desire to know that she was certain with such a commitment. Her responding tear-filled nod and smile were answer enough for him as well, and suddenly he could not think of a time when he felt more whole. When the prince began to speak, she turned back to face him.

“T-that will be at most a week from now! Your physician said so himself when last we spoke! Rosaline, please, do not make a rash decision. I know you would not see Benvolio killed, b-but what of your previous desire to end the arrangement? Would you truly sacrifice the freedom you have begged me to return to you so soon, in the hopes that it will end your aunt’s vendetta?”

Rosaline’s hand clenched into a fist, and Benvolio smothered his own annoyance to calm her. He reached out and settled a hand at her waist. His thumb stroked her hip soothingly, and he watched as Escalus’s dark gaze dropped to watch the touch. The prince’s eyes hardened, and he opened his mouth to comment.

His betrothed surged to her feet, leaving Benvolio’s hand to fall back to the mattress, and she invaded the Prince’s space. He knew that if anyone else had been so bold the guard would be on them in an instant, but Escalus would not order such happen to the woman he’d already caused so much pain.

“I have seen your jealousy, Your Grace...I know of your feelings for me, and your concern for me...but I cannot stand for this any longer. You ordered us married in a time when we could not stand one another, you manipulated the situation to ensure my compliance...but now that I have come to love the man I’d once loathed? Now, you cannot stand to see your order followed; now, I must be saying it simply to protect him...how could it possibly be want I truly want? ”

For the second time Benvolio was utterly stunned by the woman God somehow deemed him worthy to call betrothed. Love. He hadn’t dared hope for such an emotion from her, and yet it came from her own lovely lips. With a slow breath, he slid his legs around to the edge of the bed and planted his feet. With caution and no small amount of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and took a step towards the only other two people in the room. Shaky, unstable legs kept him from moving any further, and he braced himself against the bed’s post.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lady Capulet. I misunderstood the nature of your relationship with Sir Montague, and I behaved inappropriately. We can discuss your proposal further tomorrow, once your betrothed is able to have proper rest.” Escalus met Benvolio’s eyes over Rosaline’s shoulder and nodded to him with a sad smile. “Excuse me.”

Rosaline spun to face him, and gasped. “What the bloody hell are you doing on your feet?!” She closed the distance between them quickly. Benvolio laughed tiredly at her curse.

“Language, dear Capulet.” Despite his effort, he could not keep the broad grin off of his face. As tired as he might be, he felt as though he were invincible in that moment. “You have come to love the man you once loathed.” A blush darkened her beautiful cheeks, and Rosaline could only nod. Benvolio took her face in both hands, dropped his forehead to hers. “Thank God. And I love you, my beloved Rosaline.” Unlike their previous embraces, Benvolio claimed her lips with tenderness, taking his time to taste her.

He could not fully believe that this moment was real. This woman, who had once been the bane of his existence, loved him . She stood up against their Prince to declare her desire to marry him sooner, rather than later, and was now pliable under his touch. He tipped her head back slightly, deepening the kiss and eliciting a breathy moan that tightened his belly. Her own hands clutched at his waist, and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over him abruptly, leaving him trembling and forcing him to break the kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers once more. As he focused on dragging in breaths, Rosaline ran her hands along his back affectionately before taking his hands in her own and easing him back onto the mattress. As he found a comfortable position - incredibly easy considering the quality of the bed - she sat alongside him once more and leaned over him.

“I look forward to the day when we are not interrupted or forced to stop, my love,” she purred. “On that day, there will be no exhaustion, no injury, no royals or propriety to stand in our way.” Benvolio swallowed thickly; exhausted as he might be, her vow was enough to set his imagination into motion.

“I meant what I said, that I would have the Friar marry us tomorrow,” he pointed out with a mediocre imitation of his usual charming smirk.

“You’ll need your strength back for our wedding night, dear Montague. The morrow would not allow you adequate time to recover. Soon.” Benvolio was only partly surprised by this new, unreserved side of Rosaline; it only made sense that the fire with which she fought should match the intensity with which she loved. Not for the first time, he cursed his weakness. As if she could sense his distress, Rosaline relented with a tender smile. Her fingers combed through his hair. “Rest now, Benvolio. There is much to be done in the coming days.” Sleep came swiftly, and the last thing he heard before drifting off was her sweet voice humming an equally sweet lullaby.

#rosvolio #benros #rosaline x benvolio #rosaline capulet #benvolio montague #ssc fanfiction #Still Star Crossed #heads up this one's super long! ;)

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cookieswriting · 7 years

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What Matters - Ch 1

“Well, my dear Lady Rosaline, I believe it would be improper to keep you from your rest any longer. Allow me to walk you back to your quarters?” Benvolio Montague watched his betrothed out of the corner of his eye, fighting to smother a grin. Oh, how far they’d come since their marriage had been arranged by the Prince. Where she’d once looked upon him with disdain, now he would catch her softening and even, at times, smiling when she saw him.

This, it turned out, would be one of those rarities. She shook her head with affection in her eyes and turned to him. “You know that I am but a lowly serving girl, my lord,” she murmured, suddenly somber. Her choice of words brought to mind their first meeting, and his own affection warred with surprisingly personal bitterness towards the Lady Capulet.

“No,” he growled. Rosaline’s breath caught when he stepped forward into her space, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that it might be deemed inappropriate. His hands came up to cradle her face, and his eyes bored into hers to ensure he had her full attention. “Your Aunt may have attempted to smother you beneath the title of servant following the death of your parents, but you and I both know she will never succeed. Your passion, your fire cannot be stifled by that wretch, and once we are wed, you will never suffer at her hand again.”

“Benvo-”

“And what, pray tell, do you expect will come of her when her dearly betrothed is cut down in the streets?”

The pair spun to face their intruder, Benvolio stepping easily in front of Rosaline and dropping his hand to his sword. Rosaline’s hand settled on his bicep. The slight tremor in her touch set his protective instinct racing, and he tried to place the man before them. “We want no trouble, sir.”

“That is unfortunate, Montague, because trouble will be yours. The Lady Capulet will not stand to see filth like you staining the honor of our house. Even if it is with a lowly serving girl.” The stranger nodded to someone behind them. Rosaline yelped, and Benvolio would have leapt to her defense had the man before him not attacked at the same moment. The clashing of their swords nearly drowned out Rosaline’s cry of “Benvolio!”, and it took everything in him to keep his focus on his own fight.

“If your quarrel is with me, then let the lady go! Lord Capulet will not be pleased if she is killed for his wife’s vendetta against my house!” Taking an opening, Benvolio kicked his attacker back and glanced over his shoulder. Rosaline was struggling against two other men, one of whom held a dagger to her throat. The sight had the Montague seeing red.

His distraction was just enough, and Benvolio saw horror take over Rosaline’s face an instant before agony erupted in his back. She screamed, begging someone to come to their aid. “The Lady did instruct us to leave her alive...but she said nothing about unharmed.” The taunt, too loud in his ear, had panic jumping into Benvolio’s throat. An arm came around his chest to hold him upright and the sword was jerked free of his body. The young lord groaned and would have collapsed if not for the man's grip. “I will so enjoy taking your little serving girl while all you can do is watch...and die.”

Benvolio was able to keep himself on his feet for several seconds once the support was removed, and his eyes locked on Rosaline’s. Tears filled her warm brown gaze, and his increasingly sluggish brain registered the emotion in them to be grief...not fear. Grief for him. “Forgive me,” he pleaded. The impact of his knees hitting the ground jarred his wound, and he curled in on himself. His vision tunneled, and he swallowed thickly.

“No! Let me go!”

“Shut up, whore! Your protector is not long for this world, we need to have our fun while we can.” Even as a fog seemed to settle over his mind, Benvolio fought to keep himself conscious.

“Get your filthy hands off of me! He-”

A sharp slap echoed through the alleyway, and the soft sound of pain that escaped Rosaline was enough to jolt his system. Drawing in a shaky breath, Benvolio drew on any remaining reserves of strength he possessed, and surged to his feet. Without a word, he stumbled towards the distracted thugs. He drew his own dagger, dispatching one of the three men before the others even noticed that the Montague was back on his feet. The next thug fell to his sword, before Benvolio was stunned by an abrupt punch across the jaw.

“How gallant...not behavior I would have expected out of your pathetic house. This time, I will put you down for good, like the dog that you are. Say goodbye, Montague.” Benvolio snarled at him, bracing himself for death now that Rosaline only had one adversary to dispatch herself.

The swift end did not come, though, and the man before him cried out in agony. Benvolio looked up in surprise just as he fell. Rosaline stood behind him, a long blade trembling in her hand. Seeing her poised, defiant, alive, the fight abruptly dissipated from his body and left him wavering once more. Rosaline seemed to notice this, and dropped her weapon to catch him by the elbows. “Benvolio?” She eased him to the ground, cradling him against her. “You need a physician.”

A hollow and weak laugh broke from his chest. “I am not sure there is time, dear Rosaline. You are safe, that is what matters.” Her silence registered in his tired mind, and Benvolio looked up to see her staring down at him with fresh tears sliding down her face. He reached up to brush them away with his thumb, and was filled with a resigned sadness. “I believe that...we would have been happy together, given time,” he whispered.

“Though the world may not see it, you are a good, kind soul, Benvolio Montague. I do not believe, however, that this is where our journey will end.” Her fingers stroked his beard tenderly, and she leaned closer to him. “I have seen the might of your stubborn will...use it now. I need to go and get help, but I need you to fight. Fight for me, for us...stay alive. Your duty to protect me is not yet complete.”

It was an underhanded move, but one that showed him just how worried she was for him. He himself had not understood until the attack just how much he had committed to protecting his betrothed...that while there was still breath in his body, he would fight to ensure her safety. Physical or otherwise.

It was that last plea that kept him clinging to consciousness, despite the waves of agony radiating from his back and the darkness threatening to drag him under, until Rosaline returned with two others. He did not have enough awareness to determine how long she’d been gone, nor to identify the newcomers, and once they jostled him even the slightest, he lost the feeble grip he had on reality and slipped away to the soft murmur of Rosaline’s voice.

#Still Star Crossed #rosaline x benvolio #benvolio montague #rosaline capulet

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