By Any Other Name
Benvolio Montague could not sleep after all the excitement of their escape. Even after his bath, he was extremely restless. He decided to try to quell his nerves using one of his favorite methods of relaxation. He pulled out his sketchbook and began to draw his lovely companion while she slumbered.
So, here he sat, listening to Rosaline Capulet's gentle breathing, as he attempted to sketch her likeness. He had to admit, she had surprised him.
She had proven to be strong, courageous, and bold. She was loyal to her sister and her house. She was beautiful, compassionate and kind. She was refreshingly honest and decent. She could mourn the lecherous Trucio's death, and endure the embarrassment of her first time in a brothel. She was as witty as Mercutio, with a fiery temper to match his own. He knew he could trust and depend on her.
He would always be in her debt for risking her good name to accompany him on this perilous, uncertain journey.
He was impressed with her calm reserve when they encountered an impertinent innkeeper.
He chuckled quietly when he recalled her covert peek as he dried himself in the bath. He hoped she liked what she saw.
He marveled at her ability to threaten Friar Laurence with the cool severity of a royal interrogator.
She was virtuous and spirited. He felt responsible for her well being and was proud she called him a good friend.
He'd lost his parents, his cousin and his best friend. But through some divine providence he had found her. Now that he had time to think, he realized that his need for Stella, had been less about love and more an attempt to end his loneliness. He never felt lonely when he was with Rosaline. He felt alive and needed and... happy. He sighed at that. He had almost forgotten the feeling, but yes she made him happy.
He knew he would never tire of seeing her smile. A man could both lose and find himself in her eyes, he certainly had.
He remembered overhearing stories the servants told when he was a child.
They whispered of spells, potions and magic that could sway a man towards false affection. His enchantment however, had little to do with that kind of sorcery.
No, his bewitchment was due to the beautiful woman, who lay peacefully sleeping in the small room they shared. Surely Romeo and Mercutio must be sharing a laugh at the irony. The "Capulet Harpy" , he never thought he would love, had consumed his thoughts.
The future looked bleak. His life could easily end tomorrow. But tonight he'd found peace.
It mattered very little what he actually called her.
Rosalina, Rosaline, Capulet, Beloved... his sweet, strong willed Rose had stolen his heart.
His contemplation yielded a fruitful result. He looked down at the image he'd created on his pad. Benvolio was satisfied. He was certain however, she would never admit he had captured her likeness. He smiled broadly at that notion as he finally settled down to sleep.