Chapter Three:

The Fool

Part One: Don Pedro

The hall was full, and the atmosphere was festive. It was a night crafted by Don Pedro and, to a lesser extent his father, to be so fantastically joyous that it might tempt even the most melancholy man in the room to rise from his seat in the corner and join in the dancing. Unfortunately, as Don Pedro observed, the most melancholy man in the room did not seem to be willing to do so. Between various interactions with the party's female guests, the tall, dark, and handsome man had been keeping an eye on his little brother, stealing inconspicuous glances every minute or so. He was hoping to see him brother wandering off towards Beatrice like the helpless little child that he was, since he so obviously wished to. At first, Pedro had assumed that it was only a matter of time before the little weakling got up the courage to approach the girl, and unwittingly set his brothers plan in motion. So he waited patiently, biding his time until he could act. However, as the night went on his frustration only grew, until he was imperceptibly fuming with rage. Stupid child, why won't he move! He thought to himself, turning his cold stare once again towards the sentient ball of disappointment that called itself his brother.

With a sigh, Don Pedro collected himself. It only took a moment for his blandly charming facade to become perfect once again. He knew that he could not afford to act rashly, not if he wanted his plan to be a success. Besides, stupid as he was his younger brother was unlikely to cover forever, eventually, he was sure to move, and Pedro was willing to wait. That said, perhaps he could do with a little encouragement. The night was young, so he decided to give Jon one hour to sit and mope before he would be forced to move things along himself. Ten minutes later, he decided it was time to act.

Suavely, the handsome man approached the nearest lady of acceptable age. She was a pale, slender creature, with big brown eyes, shapely features, and unusually thick auburn hair that was pilled atop her head in some sort of convoluted style, twisting and weaving incomprehensibly back in upon itself. She would do nicely. It only took a few moments of politely flirtatious conversation before the young lady was gliding off across the dance floor in the direction of Don Jon's corner. Smiling at his handiwork, Don Pedro slipped away to gather the other pieces of the puzzle.

Don Pedro was surrounded by the sounds of sparkling laughter, and the rustling of fine fabrics as he wove between the dancers. All around him, fine ladies and gentlemen swirled endlessly, the men smiling, the ladies giggling. As he walked, Don Pedro was overwhelmed with the glamor of it all, this was his world, and he navigated it well. He moved between the dancers with such ease that he could almost have been dancing himself, he traded winks and smiles with the couples as he went, thriving with the ease of one borne to this world, a true gentleman. It was with such an easy grace that he approached his targets.

"Beatrice, my lady! And signior Benedick! I trust that the two of you have been well"

"And I trust you have been, what one might call 'doing well' as of late, Pedro"

Benedick laid a warning hand on his companions shoulder with a slight sigh. "What Beatrice means is that we are doing well, quite well in fact, ever since you introduced us" He smiled.

"I will concede that things have been 'quite well' as of late" Beatrice admitted, grudgingly.

As she spoke, Don Pedro watched her carefully, in an effort to determine what exactly his brother saw in her. Even clad in such a fine gown, it was obvious that she was little more than a skinny, sharp tongued wench, with no great beauty to speak of. Her large green eyes were noteworthy, for they shone with a fiery intelligence that was almost unheard of in a woman, and therefore an admirable quality indeed. The remainder of her face however was highly unremarkable, except for her lips, which were heinously thin. Doubtless they had been warn so by the scathing insults that so frequently passed them.

"Brother!" Don Jon's greeting startled the older man out of his revelry "Brother! Has a girl passed here? A girl with auburn hair piled atop her head? She asked me to dance, but she seems to have run off-" He broke off rapidly, noticing Beatrice and Benedick for the first time.

Don Pedro smiled. "I am sorry John, but I am unable to help you with that. However, there is someone that I would like you to meet" he took his younger brother's arm and guided him into the small group. Gesturing at the couple, he said "I believe you already know Beatrice, her companion is signior Benedick, he will be serving with us in the war beginning tomorrow. Benedick, this is my brother, Jon."

"Signior Benedick, it is a pleasure" Don Jon mumbled dismissively before turning to Beatrice "Beatrice, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Before Beatrice could reply, Pedro spoke once more "Jon, you should know that Bendick and Beatrice are engaged as of yesterday, she is his fiancé"

Immediately, the younger man froze, his face grew even more pallid than usual as he stammered "Th-they what? Beatrice, is this true?"

"Of course Jon. We, I know it is sudden, but it just feels right- Jon? Jon! Where are you going?"

"I, I didn't- I'm sorry" was all Don Jon could manage as he turned and rushed away into the night.

As looks of confusion overtook the faces of his two remaining companions, Don Pedro could only smile. Even as Beatrice ran after his useless brother, his smile did not fade, pleased as he was by the tears he had seen forming at the corners of his brothers pathetic eyes as he fled, like the useless coward he was. Don Pedro knew his victory was complete. His brothers tears need not even fall for him to be sure of that, since their very existence assured him beyond any doubt that, he had won. He always won.