Now Is The Hot Blood Stirring

*_* I do add some lines that aren't in the original Shakespeare...sorta where I want. I recently played Tybalt in a school production, and...I needed to write this. It's Benvolio's perspective on the play. There are some interesting things about his character; he never finds out that Romeo is in lone with someone other than Rosaline, and thinks that he is for the whole play. True stuff. Rated M for later chapters. BL in later chapters. Rate and Review (and rant), as they say. *_*

This world I live in has an abundance of violence. Everywhere I may happen to turn, another one dies. No, I know it will never end. It cannot end. This world holds the one figure for starting the most riots, the most injuries, the most deaths. This world is one will of hatred. More hatred than I, Mercutio, Romeo, Tybalt, Lord Montague, the Prince, anyone could stop. And if we try, why more fuel to the fire, as they say.

I suppose I shall begin the story of my end where there is a sensible beginning, and I suppose the only sensible way to begin a story is at the beginning. May I begin?

Now, those past lines I spoke were lies. Yes, you all know, I am the last one you'd think to lie. Oh, but I do. It is mortal existence, right? To evade our problems with what we'd hoped happened? With what we wish could?

Sadly, there is no beginning. If there is, not one earthly being knows it. These two houses have hated the other forever. Since ever. Why? No one will ever know. It is forgotten knowledge, though well supported. Montagues and Capulets hate each other, and that, dear readers, is final.

Now, I suppose every story must have a beginning, and I am rambling on a bit too long, my hearts. So I suppose I shall start from the third and next to last battle that was discovered by the Prince in Verona's walls between Montague and Capulet.

It started with Capulets. I'd been there, it was a busy market place. They'd been jaunting around, merry-making and laughing as I have been with Balthazar and Abraham at the time. Our paths crossed, as they so often do...

"Do you bite your thumb at us sir?" I heard our man growl, just under his breath. To two Capulet guards.

"I do bite my thumb, sir." The Capulet retorted, to the audience of market-goers around us.

"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" Abraham said, taking the front seat on the argument. They called each other 'sir' as the servants were noble. I couldn't help stammer a laugh as that was something Mercutio would've been bound to comment on if the nephew of royalty had been there.

"Is the law on our side if I say yes?" He asked his friend.

"No!" He said, and I practically whispered, not being able to help it.

"No, sir. I do not bite my thumb at you sir." He paused, and I sighed, it was all good. Oh, but it wasn't. "But I do bite my thumb. Sir." The Capulet said, laughing.

"Do you quarrel, sir?" The other Capulet guard spoke, obviously trying to tear his friend away from the argument. Good man for thinking that. Not all Capulets must be stupid.

"Quarrel, no!" Abraham said, almost screaming it out to the people at the market to make a point he wasn't trying to start something.

"Cause if you do, sir, I am for you, sir." The Capulet guard said, his hand twitching on his sword's hilt. "I serve as good a man as you." He said. That was one moment I knew it was all over. The man was saying Lord Capulet was as good as Lord Montague, something he knew Abraham wouldn't stand for. He was making Abraham disagree with him.

"No better." Abraham said calmly. Thank the heavens. This would've gotten sticky if he hadn't agreed. But he said it almost questioningly...leaving it open for the guard to disagree, and start a riot.

Then one guard spoke to the other in a hushed tone, and motioned to Lord Capulet himself coming to a balcony up above. "Better." The guard said with hatred, and Abraham unsheathed his weapon and clanked swords with the other guard.

Within seconds I had separated their blades with my own. "Part, fools! You know not what you do!" I hissed, hoping they would understand. And in truth, they didn't know what they were doing. If Prince Escalus found a third fight on Verona's streets, it would be death for us all.

"Turn thee, Benvolio, and look upon thy death." I whipped around at the sound of a voice. An all too familiar voice. I loathed that voice.

"I do but keep the peace." I said, fighting my own hatred not to kill the man in his spot.

"Hm?" He mumbled, taking his sword form it's sheath.

"Tybalt, I do but keep the peace." I snarled.

Now with his sword at hand, he put down, and went so close to my face I could feel the warmth of his breath. "What, drawn, and talks of peace?" he said, touching his sword to mine. "I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee!" He spat, and lifted the sword to my cheek.

That was enough. I swept my own blade out at him, and he guarded it with expertise. I gasped for breath, and lunged at him, and he parried again, this time bringing my blade around, and throwing my arm and sword, all that was blocking me from his blade away, and made a long sweep with his sword. I jumped back, the blade missing my chest by barely centimeters. Wow, he was quick. But, damn, I must be good. No man fought this long with Tybalt Capulet and lived to tell the tale, all but Mercutio, of course. No time to get cocky, though, this was serious business. He thrusted, and I linked my foot with his leg, making his loose his balance, and almost stumbling over. "Hm." I breathed heavily, giving out something of a laugh, as the man fought to regain his balance. I hadn't been paying attention to him, though, and was clumsy. He grabbed my sword arm. I shoved it back, but he held tight. Shit, for such a skinny body he must have super-strength or something. Then, using my arm to shove my body back towards his, he kneed me in the gut, a little too close to my crotch, but thank God not, or else I would've been in some real pain. I stumbled back, but he held onto my wrist even tighter, not looking like he was going to let go. Through the pain, I tried to think of what I would do. But thankfully, the adrenaline pouring into my system thought—much better than it's famed to—for me. I dropped my sword, hoping that my body wasn't picking flight rather than fight for me. Be then using that hand, and grabbed his wrist backhand, and shoved him onto his knees, his arm twisted behind my back, and picking up my sword, feeling lucky to have been left handed originally. Got to thank learning for making me good with both hands, then, I suppose.

At that moment, Prince Escalus screamed in his high and mighty voice for us to cut it out. I tuned it out. I'd heard it all before. I was the one who wanted peace, but this damn...this damn...Prince of Cats always found a way to get on my last nerve and stay there like some type of parasite.

"Let go. 'All men depart', you heard it. Let go." The man beneath me said, and I let go of his arm, and he got up. He brushed his hands off. "Thanks a lot. Now I've got to relocate my shoulder again."

"Oh, you lost it? Maybe you should take care of your possessions better." A said, finally happy I'd actually come up with something Mercutio would say, when I wanted to say it, and really did say it.

"Tch." He said, and walked off, as I did.

Lord Montague along with his Lady pranced up to me, asking of where Romeo was. Their relationship had always been a strange one. When thought upon longer, a fate that all of us are bound to, marriage to some unwilling person whose love is bound to another. The Lady never loved to Lord, but was forced to, and Romeo was the child of that bond of law. A bond of hatred, so, as it seems that is where all sons or daughters of Montagues or Capulets are born from; not the womb, but the blood that stirs through their veins with hatred. Ha, I can just imagine Mercutio saying: "That would make out for some awkward sex..."

I told them where I had seen Romeo earlier that day sobbing about some love, and how much he loved her, it was the regular old Romeo. I nodded in agreement when they said they were happy he had not been involved in the fight. That made me think of Mercutio, he hadn't been there either, and he would fight at the drop of a coin. But, Romeo was not a fighter, no he was some type of lover. That made me laugh a little, too. Of the group of three, he was the one that didn't have a massive crush on one of the other, and he was the lover.

I bid the Lord and Lady goodbye, and made out near the sycamore trees to find the lovesick Romeo.

"Good morrow, coz." I greeted him. He walked through the trees, and glanced away from a leather bound journal he held in his hands with a pencil.

His eyes darted back to the book, then up to the clouded sky. "Is the day so young?"

I smiled, at Romeo's pure unknowing. "But new stuck nine."

"Sad hours seem long." He said, laughing at himself. He repeated it to himself a second time.

I knew the expression, 'time flies when you're having fun', was Romeo saying the opposite? "What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?" I asked. If he was depressed, it had to be about something.

"Not having that, which, having, makes them short." He said simply. Was it an object? You 'have' object. No, knowing Romeo this was...a girl? (Mercutio would make me add in) A guy?

I decided on "In love?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't know.

"Out-" He dismissed.

"Of love?" I asked. Mercutio, you better than me for this.

"I'm out of her favour, where I am in love." A vow of never love? Or was she married? And she was a she? Romeo finally looked at me. His eyes scanned me up and down, and then zeroed in on my sword. There was blood there. Tybalt's? I hadn't thought I'd hurt him... He gasped, and took it and unsheathed it, inspecting the blood. "What fray was here?"

"Tyb-" I started, but then he cut me off.

"Tell me not, for I've heard it all before." He said, and looked back into his book. I glanced from behind him. It was poetry. I shook my head. He started spouting on and on, about love being linked with hate. How the love he held for this girl had more to do with hate than it did love. Hate is how all relationships start, he should understand that. He will marry someone he hates. He'd Lord Montague's son, it's bound to happen. He won't marry for love, that's unheard of. True love only exists in the mind, and will go unspoken. "Still-waking sleep, this is not what it is!" True love lives in wet dreams, as does it does die upon waking. Then he looked at the sword still in this hand. "This love feel I," He looked to me, "that feel no love in this." And back to me. "Dos't thou not laugh?" He asked, sniggering at his own foolishness.

"No, coz, I rather weep." I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Sorry, Mercutio, you're not here, and he's all alone.

"Good heart," he said, looking at my hand, then too my eyes. And he looked into the sycamore grove. "At what?"

"At thy good hearts oppression." What could he do? What could I do? He was in an impossible love, and Romeo is a lover, he is fed by love.

He looked out into the sycamores again. "Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs. A fire, sparkling, in lovers' eyes. What is it else?" He asked, looking at me, and I motioned out to him to continue. I'd only loved one, and even I knew that my love was impossible. "A madness most discreet. A choking gall as preserving sweet." He stood up, brushed my hand off his shoulder, and bid me farewell.

"I'll go along with you." I said. Better not leave him to this ambling. He may run across some beastly Capulet fingers itching for a fight. "And if you leave me so, you do me wrong." I taunted.

"Tut. I have lost myself." He looked around the sycamore grove as we walked. "I am not here. This is not Romeo," He said, his hand on his heart. "He is some other where."

"Tell me, in sadness, who is that you love?" I begged. It wasn't Mercutio, no it couldn't have been. He said she...but, was there hope for him, as my own hope withered out?

"What?" He moaned. "Shall I groan and tell thee?" He didn't want to be pestered about lost love, but I needed to know, it that would be all he would talk of.

"Groan! Why, no." I said, sighing at his stupidity. "But, sadly, tell me who." I asked, begging again.

"In sadness, coz, I do love a woman." He said. I bit my lip, had be predicted that I hoped it was Mercutio. Did he know Mercutio loved him? Or did he thought I loved him?

"I aim'd so near, when I supposed you love." I said through ground teeth, begging that Mercutio thought not how I had. "Hath she sworn that she will live in chaste?" I asked.

"She hath." He said, and looked to his feet. "She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow do I live dead that live to tell it now." He said love and the loss of it was killing him. Think of me! Think of Mercutio! We've been in love—though secretly—for too long!

"Be ruled by me!" I stumbled through my words. "Forget to think of her." I said. Think of Mercutio!

He turned to me, face on. He threw his arms out, and said, somewhat sarcastically: "Oh, teach me how I should forget to think!"

I thought of Mercutio. I must give up love for his peace, and leave my own love to rot, and his, which I once wished mine, flourishes. "Give liberty unto thine eyes; examine other beauties!"

And with that, my hopes of love were as good as dead. My love for Mercutio is dead with those notes. I cannot love a man loved.

On a simpler being, a should not love a man at all.

"Other beauties? Benvolio, you do not understand! No woman in all of Verona can have such, such utter beauty than her. She is a goddess, as Cupid's arrow has stung her with beauty, and along with Diana's arrow with wisdom! She is a mix of qualities that can be found nowhere!" He said, now stepping onto the brick street.

"Found nowhere else in women." I pointed out.

"Ha!" He said, letting out an obviously fake laugh. "You kid, Benvolio. My angel could win in a contest of beauty to any god, whether it be man or woman."

Well, I could disagree with that. Mercutio did challenge the beauty of any god, of any angel, of any woman. His sense of complete masculine style, his carefree attitude to the world, in quick on his feet wit that no earthly man harbored, his graceful sword Mercutio was a beauty to be admired, but a human like I could never attain. "The Capulet party with have many people are great beauty, you may be surprised at your own love blind eyes."

"I am not blind from love, I see you as clear as I see the day." He exclaimed.

"Ah, but you see not the day during the night, do you? This woman has shielded your eyes like a blindfold, letting you not look on the beauty of the world!" I said, matching his tone.

"There is no beauty without her. No, the world is dark and horrid without her. I'd rather be banished, die, swear not to love, than have her refuse me. This world has ended, and there is no rebirth. God has left me." He said, almost screaming.

"Think of what the Friar would say to that!" I said, and punched his arm, lightly. "Anyway, if God has left you, love someone even God would not approve of!" 'A man...' I'd wanted to say, but didn't have the power to add it to the end.

*_* That did not go in the direction I was expecting it to. P.S. Tell me if I have any of the Shakespeare wrong, I'm going on it from memory, and hell, I was fucking Tybalt, I don't do shit. There will be action. At some point. Sorry if the fight was stupid, I wanted to write down exactly how I fought it -realization- ((My fuck, Tybalt fights in all but one fight in the show...points to whoever knows which one...)) But we had some epic fights with flips and shit, and they are too epic for any of you to be stealing. *_*