Romeo's Battle
I cannot believe it. Last night, I was married to the most wonderful girl in all of Verona – nay, in the world! Her eyes are as bright as a thousand suns, and her lips are as red as ripe apples. Her name is Juliet, and I praise the good fortune that led me to her that fateful night at the house of the Capulets. Her family is my house's sworn enemy, but I can feel no malice towards the kin of my wife. I can only feel great joy that we are wed, and may now enjoy all of the benefits that shall come from that union.
Today, I walk through the streets of Verona feeling light, walking on air. I come across my friends, but they seem distracted by another man. Turning, I see my dear wife's cousin, Tybalt, across the way. He is ready for a fight, and seems ready to draw his blade at any moment. He tells me he has been waiting for me – as if I could fight another member of my own family! I decline most demurely, choosing to wait to reveal the shocking news of my recent marriage to his cousin. My friends cannot understand my sudden unwillingness to fight. This is strange, for I have never been one of the more hotblooded persuasion. I prefer to wait, resolving arguments with speech rather than with swords. Yet my comrade Mercutio appears unable to bear my surrender to a Capulet, and steps in to defend my honor. He must think I am weak, when in truth I am simply in love.
Both Tybalt and Mercutio quickly draw their swords, and I can see that the situation is slipping out of control. Shouting insults at each other, they step forward, and I hear the ominous clash of metal. I run forwards, trying to stop this awful event from occuring, while knowing it will play itself out. I draw my own sword, lifting their swords away with it in a futile attempt to still their tempers. But as Mercutio's sword is captured by my own, Tybalt's finds its opening, and he takes his chance, stabbing Mercutio, my friend, my comrade, my kinsman, through the heart.
How can this have happened? I looked only to help, to prevent more blood from being spilled in memory of an age-old feud. I had hoped that our houses could bury their anger with love, now that Juliet and I are wed. But now her kinsman has killed mine. Mercutio is dead, killed before he had a chance to live. I must admit, at least to myself, that it was not only the fault of Tybalt. I, too, played a part in my friend's death. I forced him to fight for me, when I myself would not. Then, I raised his sword with my own, preventing him from blocking his opponent's mortal blow. Tybalt has left, but he will soon return. Mercutio's death will be avenged.
When Tybalt does return, I am blinded by rage and sorrow. Rage, because Tybalt has killed my friend. Sorrow, because it was I who allowed it to happen. How could I have been so stupid? Just like them, I acted quickly, without thinking. Now my friend is dead. I turn to Tybalt, provoked by rage and despair. I challenge him to a fight. We battle. Tybalt dies. I suddenly awaken to what I have done, and regret it in some ways. But what is done cannot be undone.
Later, I hear what happened after I left the scene. The Prince came by, and Benvolio explained the day's events. The sneaking, lying Capulets tried to distort the facts, but the Prince would not listen. Still, he has exiled me – a fate worse than death, for Verona is my world, and there is no life without it. So soon after my marriage, I am banished, and Juliet is forever lost to me.