Sword Crossed Lovers

Hiding In Plain Sight

The next few days moved slowly for Tybalt as he went back and forth around town, running errands for his aunt and uncle.  However, his mind was bent on his dear cousin, ordered to stay at home to fully recover from her fall.  Nothing was seriously harmed but the thought of her pain at his cause haunts the Capulet Prince.  What if he had kept his anger under control?  Would she still have fallen?

Nurse and Peter tell him so but Tybalt can't shake the idea that she might be fine if he hadn't overreacted at finding the Montague blue crest by her balcony.  What was that doing there anyway?

Riding into town, Tybalt takes out the torn piece of evidence from his vest pocket and admires it closely as his spurs his horse onwards, reaching the outskirts of the city.  He ties his horse up to the Capulet post and enters Verona.  The looming brick buildings and city wall reflect the honor of the royal family and Tybalt pays his dues to the statue of the Prince at the entrence.

Suddenly a sharp remark from his right picks his head up.  Not aware of an admirer before he spoke, Tybalt missed his comment but could tell it was made with fangs to sting him.  He glares at the man in the shadows, his back leaning against a wall to hide his face in the darkness.
"Pray, speak again," snarls Tybalt back.
"Are thy ears filled with Montague cock, thou churlish fen-sucked codpiece?"
"Draw and I wilt show thee!" hisses Tybalt, leaning to shove the man harder against the wall.

With a clank of metal, Tybalt draws his knife and secures it by the nape of the man's neck.
"Speak again, bright angel," gargles the man, snickering.
"Thou art nothing to me, mammering canker-blossom.  Be gone before I cut out thy tongue."
"I'm sure you would enjoy that, Tibbles," smiles the man, pressing Tybalt back into the light.
"Mercutio!"
"Tis I and none other, Prince of Cats," he gloats, opening his arms before the Capulet in mockery.  "Are you going to sheath your blade or continue to hold it beside my face?  I wilt part my lips for it," he laughs the Escalus, noticing how awkward and suddenly Tybalt dropped his aggressive act.

Tybalt returns his blade to its sheath and stares blankly into the man's eyes.  "What art thou doing here?"
"It is a city, Tibbles.  What else would one do here but exist among the rabble and thick of humanity?" he laughs, turning towards the Capulet before him.  "What are you hiding from, dearest Tibbles?  You always seem to be hiding in the shadows, playing with yourself, and always-"
"Shut up!"
"No, pray tell, darling.  What could be so horrid?" he nips back, cocking his head to the side and pressing back against his arms by his neck.

Tybalt gulps and stares into Mercutio's deep eyes.  Feeling lost, his lips part and he breathes, "I hide because there's more to me than what thou seest and I'm not sure thou would find the rest any more pleasing.  I know that sometimes, I don't like the rest."

Mercutio relaxes slightly against Tybalt's pressure on him.  The Capulet Prince releases the Escalus lord and leans against the opposing wall.
"Your value doesn't decrease based on someone's inability to see your worth," whispers Mercutio, his eyes soft.  He outstretches a hand and offers it kindly to the man before him.  Tybalt swats it away.  "I am a weak, ephemeral creature made of mud and dream.  But alas, I feel all the powers of the universe whirling inside me, Mercutio."
"We cross our bridges as we come to them, Tybalt, and burn them behind us with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of the smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered," smiles Mercutio slightly.  He places a kiss on Tybalt's frozen cheek and takes his leave.

Frozen and sensing his feelings pounding against his heart, Tybalt Capulet steadies his breathing and listens to the Escalus walk away.  The steps are quick but anxious to stay and Tybalt can tell by his his feet graze the cobblestones.  Just as he predicted, Mercutio stops and his heels spin to face the Prince of Cats.  "Bid the fair Juliet my condolences.  If your family requires anything, come to me rather than my cousins.  The Prince is busied with Florence and the rest of Italy whilst Paris is off making preparations at his summer estate in France.  Give her this," he barks, tossing a silver clip into the air.  Tybalt easily catches it in his palm and as he looks back up to Mercutio, he is gone.

Pricking his thumb, the clip draws a tiny little bead of his blood.  He puts his finger between his lips and runs his tongue over it.  Then examining the silver-engraved clip, he notices a small crested shield on the front, laced with silver vines.  A Montague crest?  No, Mercutio would not dare.  But why pass it on to my cousin?  What does this mean?

The Capulet pins the clip onto his breast and his fingers fondle the torn Montague-crest in his pocket.  Unsure of what to exactly do with it, he just lets it sit in his coat pocket as he strides into the rest of the town to carry out his errands.