Sword Crossed Lovers

Romeo Exposed

Feeling as though his cousin had been dirtied by such an unholy act, Tybalt's hands spring to the hilt of his blade. None shalt disrespect her in his house! Even a stranger!

He leaps quickly through the crowd, pressing into the two. He stops, however. The darling look in Juliet's eyes as the two part and gaze into each other's eyes make the Capulet stop. Such joy, such peace, such giddy happiness destroys the purity of his reaction. Realizing his actions are now fueling by impure motives unto her, he retreats. 'She is happy. Why should I take such a moment from her?' his mind pulses, forcing him back into the party.

Now reduced to observing the party from the above balcony over the hall, he scans through most of the guests. No longer interested in Juliet's whereabouts, he forces himself to study others. His tendency to seek her out amongst a crowd has always been regarded a skill of his but now it marks him as a curse.

Behind him he feels Peter's hand clasp his shoulder. "All's well, sir?"
"Indeed," he briskly replies, sighing.
"I have known thee long enough to know when lies flutter from thy noble tongue, Tybalt. Speak true and thy shalt find an ear to spare," his manservant reassures him, tugging gently on his shoulder. Tybalt sighs once more but something stops his reply in his lips. The stranger who was just with his Juliet was approaching fast. He was being guided by none other than the mischievous Mercutio and Benvolio.
"O Romeo, thou makest a minstrel out of me!" gushes Mercutio, playfully ruffling his hair and kisses his cheek.
"Romeo?" echoes Tybalt quietly.

He eyes the threesome as they pass below him, the looming Prince of Cats going unnoticed by the two Montagues and the Escalus.
"What, dares the slave come hither cover'd with an antic face to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, to strike him dead I hold it not a sin!" Tybalt spits, grabbing Peter roughly by the arm.

Beside him, Lord Capulet turns his head and sees his nephew's hand fly to the hilt of his dagger riding on his right hip. "Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so?" he says almost sternly, his brow forming a questioning stare. Tybalt inhales strongly and spits back, "Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, a villain that is hither come in spite to scorn at our solemnity this night."