#3 in Othello
#26/ 145 in Shakespeare
#33/ 172 inJuliet
#50/ 236 in Romeo and Juliet
#50/ 378 in Multiverse
#265/ 1.5K in History
The houses of Montague and Capulet have always been at war until the star crossed lovers Romeo and his Juliet were foun...
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"Part fools! Put up your swords! You know not what you do!" screams a man, throwing himself between two servants, their daggers out and a few cuts and bruises all around.
From afar, Tybalt Capulet could not tell who the man was but the Montague emblem upon his back only made the spark of conflict rise within him. He walks swiftly at first, the heat of a brawl growing within his limbs, his fingers tapping the hilt of his dagger impatiently. He senses the presence of his kinsmen behind him and it only spurs him onto the brawl unfolding faster.
Most citizens of Verona know by now that their fair city has been plagued with two powerful warring households. The oldest house, the ancient Roman House of Capulet has held prestige and honor, constantly recalling their ancestor's claim to the landscape. Their raw Italian heritage makes them susceptible to pride and greed but with unyielding power, a Capulet gets what they want. A notorious knack for killing makes them vile but their family's rich roots in the Renaissance's origin makes them artisans and patrons of things of beauty... all things of beauty.
The other House, the originally French House of Montague, constantly flaunt their great taste of fashion and archaic sense of food. Their lavished estate and lifestyle makes their balls and parties the envy of all of Europe.
These two powerful Houses have been sworn enemies as long as any can remember. The cause of such a feud, hah, no mind is old enough to tell.
Nonetheless, the hatred bred between the two have only grown stronger and more passionate with each passing year, each passing generation fueled only by the pain of each family crypt growing larger and larger, filled with a new addition of young blood each generation.
Tybalt takes in a sharp breath and steadies his breathing. He matches it with the pace of his boots against the cobblestone and flicks the hilt of his blade once again, releasing it from its protective strap. "What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?" he begins, his eyes catching the Montague's as he spins around. The Montague-dog raises his arms in a defensive manor and the kinsmen behind Tybalt snicker. The spiky hair, smooth shape of his jaw, pale skin, and dark eyes recall his name to memory. Spurred on with a spark of passionate hated, Tybalt hisses, "Turn thee, Benvolio. Look upon thy death."
Graciously, the Capulet prince raises his arms and unfolds them before the Montague kinsman, mockery in his eyes. He turns with his chest open and puffs it out towards him: a challenge. Benvolio raises his arms higher and nods, his eyes afraid. Tybalt can smell his fear and it only gives him more strength to provoke him further. "I do but keep the peace!" replies Benvolio weakly, his voice shuddering with fear before the mighty Prince of Cats.
In a dominant response, the Capulet draws his blade and lunges forth. His blade pauses right before the Montague's throat and Tybalt beams. He hears the Montague kinsman gasp and the servants pause their brawl with Tybalt's Capulet allies. He stares back coldly into the blue eyes of the boy as he feels his arm grab his blade forearm defensively. "Put up thy sword," the Montague gulps, "or manage it to part these men with me." Tybalt smiles a devilish grin and hisses, "What, drawn, and talk of peace?" He presses the blade with more force against the Montague. "I hate the word, as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee! Have at thee, coward!"
