Chapter 1 – A Memorable First Meeting
OK, so I ran out of reading matter and no one was writing any more Shakespeare fanfics, so I got bored and wrote this myself. There will probably be a few chapters showing snippets from their childhood together, and then I will do a new fic to cover their teenage years and brief relationship before the Separation. (Yes, it does have to be spelled with a capital S!)
I'm not Shakespeare, funnily enough. Nothing you recognise is mine, and the only characters owned by me are Benedick's parents(Or their personalities, at least), Beatrice's father Angelo (Or his name anyway) and Benedick's older brother Lorenzo. Benedick is a Signor rather than a count, but he's still a noble not a commoner, so I assume he is a younger son. And I own the nameless groom. Everything else is property of the Bard himself.
OK, OK,on with the story!
Not an hour after Benedick and Beatrice were married, as they danced together and wondered over how their feelings towards one another had changed from hatred to love over but the course of one seven-night, Benedick realised that one of his earliest memories was of the day he first met Beatrice.
It had been a beautiful day one sunny June, when lord diPadua, the father of the three year old Benedick, received news that his friend Signor Leonato of Messina's wife had successfully borne their first babe; a healthy girl-child they had decided to give the name of Hero, after the mythical true-love of Leander. When he heard of it, nothing would do but for lord diPadua, his lady, their ten year old heir Lorenzo and their younger son Benedick, aged three and now presentable in polite company as he had recently undergone the rite of passage of changing from the wearing of a baby's petticoats to a boy's short breeches, to all take the long carriage ride and short boat trip from Padua to Messina on the Isle of Sicily.
What seemed like a week later, but was in reality more like a day, the family rode up to Messina, Benedick grumpy and saddle-sore on the back of his first pony, being led by a servant who was holding the beast's reins and getting over tired with the young boy's incessantly precocious whining and chatter.
"If ye do not stow your tattling, Master Benedick," said the groom, cast iron patience in his tone, "I will take out from under you that pillion cushion, and it will go back in the saddlebag, mark you, and you will have to take the ride home in a bare saddle like every other body."
Benedick muttered darkly, but kept his complaints for a later time and a more sympathetic ear. They trotted up to the house, and Benedick slid off the back of his little steed, glad to be out of the saddle.
"At last!" he cried, "Papa, can we see the babe an'the family now?"
"We must wait for Signor Leonato to come to u – Good Signor!" He greeted his old friend as the man came in to the courtyard. Benedick looked up at Signor Leonato in interest. He saw a man of pale complexion, with dark hair and beard, and dancing blue eyes, who laughed as he embraced lord and lady diPadua. He ruffled Lorenzo's hair in an affectionate sort of way, then bent down to stare at Benedick, who was staring back.
"Who is this little lad then?" asked Leonato "Be this the chattersome younger boy about whom I have heard so much – Benedick, is it? Thou art not talking now."
"But, sir, there wasn't anythink to talk about, sir." the articulate child explained. "Except to greet you, which takes but few words."
Benedick's mother sighed. "I apologise for my youngest son, Signor, he always was a precocious child, from his very birth."
"Ah, forget not, my lady diPadua, that I also was a younger son until the death of my brother Angelo not three months past." sighed Leonato, "A dreadful blessing to me, I feel, for I lose my brother and my best friend, but gain a bonny babe to be a sister to my own. Poor mite, to lose both parents in less than one twelve-month, and she not yet so old as the twelve-month itself. Well, younger boys will chatter, mark you, and he will have a clever tongue on him yet, this one!" And with that, the man turned and led them into the house.
They passed several suites of rooms, none of them the one where the new baby was to live, with the mysterious sister who was not Leonato's own bay. Suddenly they took a turn down a side corridor, and found themselves in a bright, airy room, painted all in cream and blue. There were two cribs at one end, and little Benedick made straight for one of these, the larger, although older and more battered, of the two. He stood on tiptoe to peer in, and saw a happy, smiling baby girl, with green eyes and russet curls atop her head.
"It'sa very fair bay," he said, his tone one of curiosity and wonder, "Its hair is all red." Leonato laughed.
"That's not my babe! That one came of my late brother Angelo's getting, but his wife died of childbed fever a week after bearing the child, and Angelo died of grief not a year later, so now baby Beatrice lives with us." He gestured towards the second crib, "That one is my daughter." Everyone gathered around the smaller cradle. This babe was littler than baby Beatrice, and darker of complexion and hair colour. She too was awake, but did not smile up at them as the older bay had. She looked at them in a kind of awe, even fear, of these people who wanted to look at her.
"That's Hero." Leonato explained proudly, "She seems somewhat quieter than her cousin. Bea never really cries, but she babbles away, and being the elder knows a few words already, even what they mean." As if to illustrate this point, a small arm appeared from the cot containing the older girl, and as it waved vaguely in the direction of Benedick, a small, clear voice issued from the crib – "Boy." Leonato smiled.
"I do not remember hearing her say that ere she did so just then. She must know what it means though." Benedick looked back at the younger child, Hero. He did not find this one nearly so interesting as her older cousin, or so pretty.
"This one's face is all red." he remarked innocently.
He still remembered his father thrashing him for that, as young as he had been. He had never been able to keep his mouth shut, at any age.
What do you think? Is my Shakespearean worth the effort it took to find a happy medium between the way a precocious three year old talks and the way Shakespeare's characters talk? I promise it will be better when Beatrice and Benedick are a little bit older! And I'm going for and angle where they are best friends but still argue all the time until the friendship suddenly goes (Probably in their mid/late teens) and all that's left is the arguing. Not sure what's going to happen there. Maybe what I need is some prompts. *Awkward silence. Whistles a tune and lets eyes fall innocently on review button* Seriously though; review please, I need to know what you lot think of my writing!