Teach Me How To…
Summary: Tybalt wants to learn how to write, his parents didn't want to teach him and now his uncle doesn't have time for him. Maybe a cousin of the royal family can help? Tybalt/Mercutio
AN:Hello my dearest of readers!
I am so terribly, terribly, terribly sorry for the two years I haven't updated anything (oh my god, don't read that out loud. It sounds much worse than just reading it). Much has been going on, I have grown up now and studying psychology, yay! But now... I have time to work on fics again! Bigger yay! Once in a while I got reviews or favourite alerts for this fic, which encouraged me to continue. Hugs and cookies to you all for the lovely reviews you gave! You couldn't have made your humble writer any happier
Now, to go on with the sexiness:
Mercutio looked out over the garden, leaning against the window of the small office. His forehead was resting on the cool glasswork. It was a nice day, the sun shinning and a pleasant breeze playing in Verona's air. Still Mercutio stayed inside the safe building that he knew as home. And all that because of one Capulet.
He was speaking silently, although Mercutio was the only person in the room, as if wanting to convince himself of his own existence. To remember himself that he was still there.
"Betrayal." Mercutio repeated. "Oh dear Benvolio, sweet Romeo, was I not a friend? A friend of Montague or even a bit of Montague myself? The pain I would throw upon you if you witnessed this word. This word carved on my forehead by the nails of a cat... A Capulet, my truly beloved Montagues, a Capulet, of all those people. A smack in the face would have been more merciful and less painful."
"But who could resist the gaze of a cat? It's tail sweeping around, nails spread and waiting for the moment to strike. Patiently waiting and then striking like thunder, digging those spread nails into it's victim. Poor victim, poor me…" He raised his voice as if someone had accused him of something. "Of course I was the victim. I did not ask for this to happen, anyone who would think so will have to face me and my rapier."
He frowned. "Poor friends, would you be facing my blade, thinking so?… Thinking I was the one to blame as I think that I… could not help thinking… that feeling that Romeo described…"
Mercutio started to walk around the room from the one side to the other, again talking to himself in a hushed voice. "Love is only for those who are chosen by God. It would be a sin to… to love a man, a Capulet, Tybalt. Women were made to be with men. God painted Adam and Eve to be the first man and woman, and had probably nodded in approval and happiness while He was cleaning the mighty brushes with which He painted life itself. If there would ever be a painting made of me and Tybalt, together as we were that day, then God would have ripped and burned it for we were not meant to be. The wood of the brushes being crushed in His hands and the rests falling upon us, punishing and destroying, for we are sinners, betrayers and liars."
He stopped walking. "I was never that much a man of God, nor a believer or a reader of the bible. Never have I prayed for one thing, but just living life from day to day, laughing away trouble like jokes… Yet I can not help thinking again… as being God of my own life and Tybalt of his…"
He thought about it in silence and then suddenly Mercutio laughed as if he had heard a joke. "What am I actually making myself up? Since when do I need approval for my actions? Since when am I afraid to face a Capulet?" The tension that was around him a few seconds back had completely disappeared. "I am never afraid to face anyone. And I will prove it right now and that God himself may see that I do not care one little bit."
Maybe God didn't exist for Mercutio, but the Devil did.
And his name was Tybalt.
The big confrontation came half an hour later with one short knock on the door.
Mercutio was turned towards the window, looking at the reflection of the door as he saw it been opened. The figure of Tybalt became visible in the glass as well, more darker and threatening than Mercutio could remember. And then the door was closed. He continued to observe Tybalt's reflection in the glass for a little while longer in silence.
It was when Mercutio had turned around that he felt his stomach falling down.
"I hope your absence has not made your little knowledge of writing disappear." Mercutio simply said.
"A lot more is needed for that." Tybalt simply answered.
Simple, but very tensed.
"Let us pick up where we have left, shall we?" … "Capital letters." Mercutio added quickly. He sat down on the couch next to the desk and tried to look as nonchalantly as possible, which was even harder now he had said something stupid as that.
Tybalt hadn't noticed. That, or he hid it very good. He placed himself on the chair and waited.
"Capital letters." Mercutio repeated. He pulled a piece of parchment towards him together with a quill and ink. Quickly he wrote down the alphabet in capital letters, sometimes looking up slightly to see Tybalt staring back at him. When he was done, Mercutio pushed the piece of parchment back to the Capulet together with another piece, the quill and the ink.
Without waiting for another order, Tybalt started to copy the text. Now it was Mercutio's turn to observe Tybalt. It was almost as if the Capulet didn't care about what had happened. Yet there was a difference, but the brown haired couldn't say what.
Tybalt looked up, Mercutio looked away. A piece of parchment was given back to Mercutio, who started to study it.
"Good. Good capital letters."
Tybalt shuffled in his chair. Mercutio coughed.
"Maybe…" Mercutio didn't knew what to do next. Tybalt looked at him again. "… you could try writing your name." He finally managed to think of.
This proposal had a strange effect on Tybalt. "No."
"No?" Mercutio looked puzzled. "How do you mean 'no'?"
"Do not act like such a child!" The old Mercutio was back.
The Capulet looked terribly absent. Tybalt had his reasons which were unknown to everyone.
Tybalt wished they were unknown to him as well.
Three children were playing on the street. A boy with black hair was with them but didn't share the laughter. He was silent and watched them carefully, not giving any sign that he wanted to join their fun. One of the children sat down and wrote something in the sand with his finger, his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration.
"There!" He yelled out and pointed at what he had written. "Pathino!"
The second child bend down. "I can write my name as well!... Roberto! Now you!"
When the third child started to write his name down, the silent black haired boy stood up abruptly. "I have to go home."
Without waiting for an answer he walked away, getting piercing looks from the other three children in his back.
"Tybalt!" One of them yelled, but the black haired didn't look back.
When he arrived home, his mother was reading a book in the hall. She didn't look up when her son closed the door and came towards her.
"Why can I not read nor write mother?"
"Why would you want to?" The short answer came back. "You could not do it anyway, even with lessons."
"… I could."
A sharp laugh escaped from the mother. "You do not need the knowledge of writing and reading to have power over people. You have rapier lessons for that. You will be a leader."
"But...!" The child looked desperate.
She finally looked up from her book. "Listen to me! You will become a man that will get respect from everyone for what you can do, not for what you can not do. If you become good with the rapier, people will respect you, or fear you, it is how you see it. If you have a lot of people that look up to you, because of respect or fear, more people will follow. You do not get that kind of power with reading books."
"… Yes mother."
"Later maybe you can get rid of those cursed Montagues who seem to bother your uncle in Verona so much. Then you might be doing something useful for a change instead of coming to me with your ridiculous questions."
The child walked away defeated. It seemed that his future would only exist out of hate and fighting.
And that was what happened. His mother had wanted it to be like that.
How ironic that he now got what he had asked for so many years ago thanks to a friend of the Montagues.
In the meantime his teacher was trying to get Tybalt's attention again. "Hello?... Hello!... Are you dead? Blink with your eyes to give me a sign!"
Tybalt looked up at Mercutio slowly, who stopped his attempts to get attention from the Capulet. "Ah! There you are again, safe and sound!... Or maybe not that much sound…"
"I liked it more when you could only say 'capital letters'." Tybalt said mockingly.
Now it was Mercutio who lost all sound. He threw a destructive look at Tybalt. He then pulled another piece of parchment towards him and wrote something down. He held it out to Tybalt after he finished
"If you refuse, then I shall do it."
Tybalt looked down at the parchment but did not took it.
"Tybalt. That is your name. Always begin names with a capital letter. For cities or countries idem ditto. For example..." Mercutio wrote something down again. "Verona. Capital letter, because it is a city. And..." He wrote. "Mercutio. That is my name."
Finally the black haired took the piece of parchment from Mercutio, but then stood up and made his way to the door, making Mercutio jumping up from his seat as well.
"Where are you fleeing to?" He barked.
"I never flee, but if you are so eager to know; I am going home." And there he went, passing through the door and closing it behind him. Remembering what his mother did, or rather what she did not, made Tybalt feel like leaving. He did not know why, but he knew he did not want to stay any longer near Mercutio for the moment.
No three seconds later and Mercutio followed through the same door. "You better hurry those legs of yours back in here Capulet or I will twist them around your neck until you can rub your eyes with your feet!"
The words had no effect, but Mercutio continued with his fountain of harsh words till they were outside on the street. Tybalt's face was one without any expression, as if he didn't hear the young man's rumbling next to him. But of course it was loud and clear. People looked outside but turned away again seeing the two. Nothing no one hadn't seen before and it was better not to get involved.
Though not everyone thought the same way. The duo stumbled across the same group of Capulets from a few days before. Mercutio finally stopped his yelling and Tybalt looked rather alarmed by seeing his friends.
"Sir Tybalt!" One of them yelled. "Is that dog bothering you again?!" The sound of rapiers being pulled out was heard. In a reflex Mercutio wanted to take his, but came to the horrifying conclusion that he didn't carried his rapier with him.
"It is nothing kind friends!" Tybalt tried.
"But sir. Why so merciful? You have let him run once, why twice? The time has come for the master to put the dog on his place. He is false, and a false dog is one that has to get rid of, or he will continue biting."
"Better to be a false dog than a cat with no pride!" Another voice yelled.
Benvolio and three other Montagues had appeared on stage as well. "Five against one man without a sword... I can almost feel shame coming upon me in your place. If you would wish to fight with the rapier you are holding in your hands, you will have to use it against ours." Benvolio continued lifting his own weapon."Friend Mercutio! Take this!"
Benvolio threw a second rapier towards Mercutio. It fell on the ground before him, and he picked it up. The brown-haired looked at Tybalt who had his hand on his rapier and his eyes on Mercutio. Yet it did not seem he would use his weapon against Mercutio. They looked at each other, and for them it was clear what both of them were thinking.
The two groups clashed, leaving Mercutio and Tybalt out of their attention. Though, they could not leave, and even if they could, Mercutio wouldn't leave Benvolio like that. The youngster also ran towards the group, and he could hear Tybalt following behind him. The sand on the ground flew up so wildly, that it was hard to see what was going on. A yell was heard and one of the Capulets fell on the ground, holding his leg in pain. One of the Montagues gave him a rough kick in the face. A loud crack rose up and the Capulet moved no more. Another Montague tumbled over the body, and a man from the house of Capulet took this opportunity to attack. A few seconds later, the ground was stained by the man's blood.
Mercutio was standing back to back with Benvolio, both fighting another Capulet. Suddenly, the man who had called Mercutio a dog, kicked up more sand from the ground, troubling everyone's view. Benvolio and Mercutio parted, rubbing their eyes in pain. Vaguely, despite the sand that was still swirling through the air and the sand in his eyes, Mercutio could see the man moving forward with his rapier towards the brown-haired. He prepared himself for the pain, but it never came. A figure came before him and was thrown against Mercutio when it received the blow of the weapon. While he tumbled backwards with his saviour, Mercutio saw who he thought to be Benvolio attacking the Capulet.
Mercutio's back slammed against the ground, the other man falling on top of him. He could feel the blood on the ground soaking his clothes. It could be the blood from a friend or from a foe, but there was too much yelling and chaos to see what was going on. The brown-haired could swear that even more people came to join the fight, but because of the sand that was flying up, it was hard to tell who or from which house they were.
It was then that Mercutio realized not only his back was getting wet from the blood, but he could also feel the warm liquid upon his chest. The figure upon him moved faintly. Mercutio wanted to take a look at the figure, when a foot of one of the men still standing and fighting, crushed his arm. Mercutio groaned loudly but short, the weight on his arm leaving again. He had to get up if he wished not to be kicked and be crushed to death.
As he tried to get himself off the ground, he recognized the man upon him as no one else than Tybalt. His shoulder was soaked with blood and it was obvious that it was Tybalt's. He still moved weakly.
Mercutio's heart leaped. What would he do? Tybalt did not look like he would get up himself. If he would leave him there on the ground, he would certainly be crushed by the others, dying a horrible death. But if he would get him up, Mercutio would be forced to get Tybalt out of there.
Not having much time to think any longer, for another foot nearly missed Mercutio's fingers, Mercutio pulled himself up, taking the Capulet with him. Letting the black-haired lean upon his shoulder with his arm around his neck, Mercutio tried to find Benvolio. There were a few bodies on the ground, and just like the figures who were still standing, it was unclear who was who. His eyes didn't find his beloved friend, but Mercutio knew he could not continue standing there.
And so Mercutio escaped the dusty and bloody scene.
The false dog with the cat without pride leaning on his shoulder.
AN: I edited this chapter after some advice I got from Greenleaf's Daughter. I just cut the last part out and I will rewrite it again.
I hope you liked it and I hope I still know how to keep you guys interested.
Till the next chapter!