One-shot, explaining and expanding on the character of Lady Rosaline. (For the uninformed, [;-P] she's the woman Romeo's 'in love' with at the opening of the play. The quotes by the Prince etc are really in the play, and it's set during the first fight scene. Happy reading!
Rosaline clicked with her tongue, and pushed Tozzo into a canter. They fairly flew over the cobbles towards the centre square of Verona. As they drew past the last row of houses, a young man called out from under one of the covered walkways.
"Lady Rosaline! Hold up!"
"Matteo!" she cried out, genuinely overjoyed. The man stepped out of the shadows, leading his own horse by the reigns. He was tall, and very handsome, with thick black curls that fell over his deep blue eyes. Rosaline slid easily off her horse, and flung her arms around him.
"Ride with me" she said. "I must be back at home in time for the Prince's visit to my father. Will you accompany me? That would be seemly, wouldn't it? The rich merchant's son taking the Lord's daughter home?"
"Of course" he laughed, and swept her a graceful bow, before helping her up onto her own horse. She didn't need it at all, but didn't complain about him lifting her up. She wondered if her beating heart was loud enough for him to hear.
He swung up into the saddle, and she admired his easy seat on his stallion, Falcon. As they walked their horses down the narrow sunlit street, Rosaline was treated to a side-on of his profile. How she loved him. Since they had been children, playing at the Capulet's summer palace in San Massimo, a few miles from the centre of Verona, she had secretly harboured a crush on the dark merchant's boy. As they had grown up, and his father had gained wealth from trading perfumes and spices from outside of Italy, she had entertained hopes of marrying him, but her father had soon made it clear that a merchant's son, even a rich one, was not good enough for a young Lady who's family entertained with the Capulets, and even the Prince himself. And then, just over a year ago, Matteo had left for university, and Rosaline had been sure that when he came back, he would come back with a lady in tow, or, worse, his father would have arranged a marriage for him. But here he was, and her eyes couldn't get enough of him. They lapped up the sight of him like a little puppy lapping up milk from the saucer of a loving owner. They soaked up the sight of him, and liked what they saw. He had grown taller, and his hair was even longer. His stride was long and easy, his laugh loud and confident, the sound of someone perfectly at ease with their surroundings, sure of himself and his place in his city. When he laughed, he threw his head back and poured out his honest mirth without restraint, and as his strong, clear, velvety voice talked about university, Rosaline found herself falling in love all over again.
As they entered the main squire, the sound of mockingly polite taunting reached their ears. They heard two male voices, one apparently trying to keep the peace, and the other threatening.
"That is the sound of my kinsman, Benvolio" exclaimed Rosaline
"And that the voice of Tybalt " replied Matteo, as the sound of swords clashing broke out. They both spurred their horses faster, and emerged into a Piazza full of duelling men. Matteo leapt off his horse, drawing his sword as he did so. Rosaline's heart leapt up into her mouth. The last time she had seen Matteo use his sword had been over a year ago, when he had been practicing with his cousin. Back then, he had been clumsy and awkward with his rapier, but he had obviously been having lessons in university, because now his sword play was superb.
Rosalind swung off her horse, and went to the bridle of Matteo's. The white stallion tossed his head restlessly, and even Rosaline's own horse was discontent, sensing her unhappiness. Not being evolved in the fight, she was the first to see the Prince enter at a gallop on his charger.
"Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, profaners of this neighbour-stained steel..." he began, then became aware that he was being ignored. This was a new experience to him, and not one he liked.
"WILL THEY NOT LISTEN?" he bellowed. "WHAT, YOU MEN , YOU BEASTS!"
"Come on". Rosaline felt a tap on her shoulder. Matteo was stood beside her. "We must go."
They mounted their horses, and walked slowly back down the way they came, turning off into a lane that would take them around the square. It was then that they saw a dejected figure walking along, head hung. At intervals he muttered darkly and they could tell it was about love.
"Oh, what luck! It's Romeo, son of old Montague. He fancies himself in love with me." Matteo looked at her curiously.
"Fancies himself in love with you? Not actually in love?"
"No" she sighed, as they moved past him. He didn't even glance up at them. "See how he doesn't even notice me? He wouldn't see me unless I was handed to him on a platter, with a sign declaring me beautiful. He hasn't recognised me out of my ball gowns and finery. Some love!" she snorted. "We met at a party of the Lord's a week or so ago, and he was taken in by my dress and elaborate hairstyle." She flicked her golden-brown locks, and laughed. "As if he would really love me. He is in love with the idea of being in love. He simply adores the attention it warrants him. Locking himself away in his room, writing poetry... He follows the classic lover to the syllable."
"And you? "asked Matteo. "Are his feelings reciprocated?"
"As far as his are real" replied Rosaline. "His mannerisms, his oh so doting affection... It is slightly sickening. Twice now he has come to me with declarations of love, and twice I have turned him down. I've told him I've taken vows and renounced a life of men." She laughed darkly. "As if he'd truly care. His poems all follow the traditional route of praising my every feature. But he has not once mentioned my personality."
Here she snuck a sideways glance at him, as if expecting him to make some comment about her himself, but he didn't, so she ploughed on.
"I am the third or fourth 'lover' he has taken over the past year since you have been away. Not one has found him pleasing, nor once returned his affections. I believe he does it to appear the classic young-man-deeply-in-love, while I doubt he has ever truly felt love's hold. If he had, he would not mock it so easily with false endearment. "
"And you?" inquired Matteo. "Have you felt love's hold?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps my love is as unreciprocated as Romeo's"
"Oh I doubt it," he replied. "From what you have told me, his love is difficult to beat for being useless. And what fool would reject you?"
"One that didn't know I loved him."
"And does he know?"
"That is for him to tell me." They were smiling now, fully understanding each other's feelings at last.
"I believe he does" said Matteo. "He declares his love undying and immortal."
"And why? For my hair or my heart?"
"For the heart, the mind, and the beautiful soul. And he asks, most humbly, if his one and only love, the one he waited for for over a full year, would return his feelings, and accept his hand in marriage?"
"I would" she gasped, and her heart turned pirouettes that drove every other thought out of her head, as she kissed her love that she had turned down Romeo for. Romeo's efforts were truly in vain.