A Meagre Consolation

NOTE: Written for Still Star-Crossed Week Day 2: Favorite ship

My first Rosvolio fic! I fell fast and hard for this ship and this show and I'm coping with the news of the cancellation by trying my hand at writing for this pairing. I haven't read the book yet but I'm planning to after the series concludes, if only to get more Rosvolio goodness.

This is set sometime after Benvolio sees Rosaline crying in her old family home in episode 4. I've changed the events a bit so that they don't end up chasing Gramio just yet so at this point, they are still in the midst of investigating who is behind all the recent attacks. As fun as the balcony "You're all I have" scene and the bathtub scene are, I feel like we could have lingered on this part, when Rosaline reveals her tragic background to Benvolio and he comes to better understand her better.

Anyway, hope you like it!

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"The hour is late. I only had a few moments to spend here and I've wasted them all with you."

Her words haunt him for the rest of the day. And Benvolio cannot hate her, not anymore. Because that afternoon, he had finally met Rosaline Capulet, a woman in mourning for a family taken from her by the kin of the person she was being forced to spend the rest of her life with. And though she might never believe it, her pain was not wholly unfamiliar to him.

"…It never crosses any of your minds who actually pays the price, whose lives are ruined, who's left with nothing when you leave this earth?"

"I said I was sorry."

He realizes the hollowness of his words, of how meaningless anything he says is to her in the face of such sorrow. The feud between their families had caused them both such pain and some an outward show of reconciliation will never be enough to bring true peace.

"I've done nothing to you, Capulet."

This is true enough but he is burdened by the sheer inadequacy of it. He doesn't know why but he feels like he needs to do something for her. To somehow make up for the horrors she had suffered at his family's hands, to somehow show her that he was not one of the Montague monsters who had ruined her life. She deserved better than what this world has dealt her and he is determined to make up for that in any way.

"You look happy."

"We were."

Benvolio Montague feels inexplicably duty-bound to try and bring back some happiness to Rosaline Capulet's life. And after much reflection on that revelatory afternoon, he comes up with a plan.

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Weeks later, he shows up at the Capulet estate and wordlessly hands her a small package.

"What is this?" Rosaline asks suspiciously. She notes that he looks fatigued, as if he's suffered many a sleepless night. She's not wrong.

"A gift, Capulet," he answers simply and he motions for her to open it.

She still looks at him skeptically but begins to check the package and he waits nervously for her reaction. Rosaline finally unwraps a small framed painting and she gasps when she sees the subject.

For a moment, all she can do is stare at it incredulously and Benvolio cannot be sure if she likes it or not.

This was the risk he had taken when he decided to pursue this little project. Of all the people he has shown his artwork to, at this moment, she is the one whose opinion matters to him the most. Not least because the subject he chose is one so important to her.

For in her hands, Rosaline Capulet held a miniature portrait of her family, identical to that which hung in her abandoned family estate, a work of art so painstakingly replicated to the last detail. Benvolio had spent ages finishing this piece, returning time and again to the old house, risking the inevitable hostility any Montague faced by simply being in Capulet territory, scouring the markets for the proper materials, enduring sleepless nights painting, and hiding his intentions from his uncle. Rosaline realizes then why he looks so haggard.

"You did this?" she asks him, stunned, raising her widened eyes towards him. "Why?"

"I wanted to make up for the time you wasted on me when you visited your family home," he explains earnestly, "This way, you will always carry them with you, wherever you go."

She says nothing but looks at the painting once more with something like awe, and Benvolio is slightly relieved not to be the object of her gaze. But her silence unnerves him.

"Not that you don't always carry them with you, of course," he adds awkwardly, "As I'm sure they are always in your heart. But I imagine you rarely get a chance to visit your old home and at least with this, you might have something to remind you of it, and of…happier times."

He rambles on and on trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. He is unaccustomed to being in her presence without her saying a word and he almost regrets presenting her with the gift. Had he been too presumptuous? Did she hate him even more now? She will not even look at him so he cannot tell.

And part of him almost doesn't want to know, not if she will hate him even more. Somehow, he cannot bear that.

"I realize that you do not think much of my artistic ability," he continues nervously, "and I know I will never be able to do justice to your family's likenesses but believe me when I say I have never worked harder on any artwork in my entire life. Not that it matters. This is just a simple gift, a meagre consolation, I know, for the losses you have suffered. But given the uncertainty of our circumstances, I just thought that you deserved something to give you some measure of comfort."

Benvolio runs out of things to say so stares at Rosaline helplessly, waiting for any kind of reaction. And when she finally looks up at him, he is speechless. He had been hoping to make her smile but this was beyond anything he had anticipated.

"Thank you," she says softly, in a tone he has never heard her use with him before, and her eyes are shining.

Once more, he finds himself moved by her tears, overwhelmed by the genuine gratitude and appreciation he sees in her eyes. There is warmth there too and perhaps something else that he dares not hope for.

"No one has ever done anything like this for me before," Rosaline continues, and she extends a hand towards him.

Without hesitation, Benvolio takes the proffered hand in both of his.

"I would do anything for my beloved," he wants to say and for once he would have meant it. But he fears she will not believe him and he needs her to believe him.

So he takes her hand and gently, almost reverently, raises it to his lips.