Alrighty. Confession time: this was perhaps a fanfic long-time coming. When I was 15 or 14, I first watched Romeo x Juliet and didn't enjoy the anime at the time. Despite me finishing said series, I remember how the only reason that kept me going was none other than the intriguing arc of Tybalt's character. Back in the day, I didn't engage with fanfics, even less so with the thought of shipping characters together who weren't cannon at all.
And in an irony of ways, I found myself shipping the man with my earliest OCs at the time, 'Polaris'. It was an uncanny experience to watch a character in the show whom I found myself shipping with an oc that bore a similar backstory to mine. But as time followed through, getting into Ao3 and fanfiction, growing up and seeing changes to how I view my original characters; well. I felt that even though the concept at the time was supposedly super mature, I wasn't mature enough to fully grasp the themes of this story.
Now that I am older, I felt that perhaps I could try and write this story after revisiting the series with a more experienced lens.
For that, I give you a 10+ year-old idea in its fully written form.
I hope you enjoy.
The wind caressed his black tresses as he rode the white steed across the sky.
Two children sat in front, squealing in delight as the dragon steed soared above the clouds, before diving down. Blue silhouettes of mountains divided the horizon; rugged hills between forests and plains. The capital walls stretched over the misted hue. Below them a small clearing of trees where workers are seen tiling the lands as others crafted the new vineyards. Three years after the Descent, and hardly a trace of old Verona's blemishes could be seen. To think a few yesteryears ago, the entire continent ruled the skies without anyone realising it. For in place of the white void, lies the sparkling waters of the great blue sea.
The little girl and her brother marvelled at the sight, ecstatic cries of awe and shrills would escape their small mouths.
A faint smile crept on Tybalt's lips. Three years prior, he would have dismissed such naïve expressions. Yet prosperous Verona had waned his pessimism in recent days. Perhaps much of this has more to do with the sense of accomplishment of being able to finally fulfill his late brother's wishes.
"Hold tight," he said to the children.
The children clung to him, screaming gleefully as they swooped close to the trees before climbing back up to the sky. Their laughter carried over by the breeze. Soon the sun climbed up to high noon; informing him it was time to bring the children back to the orphanage. He steadied the white equine and turned the reigns to the nearby settlement.
"What's that?" the brother pointed.
Tybalt raised his head, aligning his sight to the direction of the boy's finger.
"Look! Look!" the sister bounced on the seat.
The rogue tried to follow whatever it was they were pointing, only to find nothing but a clear horizon. "What is it?"
"Can't you see? There's something falling from the sky!"
"Falling from the sky-?" his eyes narrowed.
Just as a precaution, he rode to the hill where he had left his personal dragon steed. After assisting the children to dismount the saddle, he raised his head. His gaze flitted from one patch of clouds to another, seeking for a glimpse of a shadow falling within his vantage. The children's words sounded ominous, knowing what it entails if what they saw wasn't just a trick of the light against the sun.
And lo and behold, he saw it.
Is that-!
He turned to the children; the soft expression he wore now barely visible as he asked; "Do you know the way back to the orphanage?"
"Yeah," the siblings nodded, holding each other's hands.
The rogue whistled for his horned steed to come and mounted onto his saddle. "Stay out of trouble."
He flew to the sky, clapping his reigns to signal his urgency. The dark equine snorted with a grunt before galloping in the air, its wide wings beating as fast as its master demanded. Tybalt was rarely like this. Foolish riders always died falling off from heights deadlier than this. So why? Why concern himself with this one?
Turning his gaze to the sun, he found no stray dragon steed in sight. Just ahead of him lies a person plummeting towards the ground, falling miles and miles away from death. With another clap of his reigns, the equine hastened. The gap between him and the falling figure shrank within a heartbeat. His steed dove closer, allowing its master to reach for their flailing hand.
"Grab on!" he stretched out his hand, only to miss their wrists.
Cursing under his breath, he guided the creature closer to them, catching them by the waist. Wrapping his dominant arm around them, he pulled them close to his chest with a little more force. By the feel of their small waist and softer chest pressed against his own did he realise this was a woman in his arms. He grunted, struggling to keep her from falling into the abyss with one arm.
"Hold onto me," he said curtly.
She made no reply as he made room for her to properly sit at the front of his saddle. A pair of trembling arms held him by the torso, her head buried into his shoulder. Tybalt had no time to ruminate what little proximity they had as his steed led them down. Upon landing on solid ground, her arms persisted their tremors, her panted breath warming his skin as she pressed her head against his shoulder like a terrified creature. All that Tybalt could see from her was the mess of brown locks that were pitifully held together with a coiling braid.
He was at a loss, locked in an awkward position as this stranger he rescued clung to him pitifully. And yet, to see a woman in such a frightened state was enough to garner his sympathy, embracing this terrified creature in hopes to ease her tensions. A rogue he may be, no matter of how violent a life he led, it had always been against his very nature to be indifferent to a woman's tears.
In a few heartbeats did he feel her loosen her arms despite the visible quakes on her shoulders. Disentangling from him, she raised her head, revealing her serenely features. Eyes flecked with an emerald sheen; flat lips and a small, pointed nose. By the patron herself, her face could rival that of the many portraits and sculptures of Escalus if it had not been for the wounded line across her left cheek.
"P-pardon me," she ducked her head.
For a moment, he lost himself before regaining his bearings.
"Has your bridle been cut while riding your steed?" he asked.
"Bridle?" she turned to the dark equine and jolted. "Horn? On a horse- bearing wings?!"
He arched his brows. "You've never seen a dragon steed before?"
"I… I have not, good sir," She wrinkled her nose as she looked to the horizon to the ground. "Lord, this creature is far too tall than what I'm used to."
He dismounted from his saddle and spied the horizon from which they flew from.
Not a feather or trace of her origin.
The stranger flitted her head from the steed to the ground, clutching the sides of the saddle for dear life. Pensively, she stuck her bandaged feet forward and awkwardly landed on the ground with the hem of her tunic caught on one of the saddle's buckles. Only then did Tybalt note of how 'medieval' her attire appeared. Rather than skirts, shirts or dresses, beneath her cape were layers of strange tunics held together with thread-bare strings. Earthen stockings wrapped in bandages were in place of shoes. Women of the higher courts would assume her to be a barbarian of sorts if they were to lay their eyes upon this wasted beauty.
"Confounded object," she grumbled as she unpegged the old fabric from the buckle. "Be it a hurdle, breetle or this- thing. There's always a hook on them somehow."
Tybalt ignored her words and eyed her with suspicion, catching her attention.
With a quick smile, she bent forward in a bow; "Many thanks, good sir. It must have been a sight to see someone descending from the heavens."
"I am no stranger to the sight of men raining down from the sky," he retorted. "it is the fate of untrained fools to fly to such heights and fall to their deaths-"
"-For that I am ever thankful for the rescue-"
"-I am not finished." He paused, taking a better look at her. Her face alone made her at least two years younger than himself. What was more pressing was where and how she came about, falling in the sky from goddess knows where. "Even with all that in mind, I cannot dismiss the nature of how I found you; falling from the farthest reaches without a steed to guide you."
She turned her head up, eyes searching for something in the air and grimaced. "…Before I answer, where is this place?"
"…Gradisca, countryside of Neo Verona," he answered. "You're at least half a mile away from the farmlands under the stewardship of Lord Illyria."
She briefly looked at him before she eyed the plains, with a grimacing lip, she sighed. "This- this wasn't what I-"
"?"
The woman shook her head. "No matter. Its not important. It is… well- one more thing."
Tybalt folded his arms. "What is it?"
"Is this place, per chance a country of the Northern Realms?"
He narrowed his eyes, her question merely confirmed one of his possible conjectures. "By your words, you're a traveller outside of the continent?"
"A more straight-forward answer would suffice, good sir," she insisted. "It's really important."
"…I don't know what you mean by the Northern Realms," he huffed. "But it's only been three years-recent that this continent had descended from the sky-"
"-the sky?" her eyes widened.
"-Yes, woman, this country is known as Neo Verona," he found his patience slowly wrung out of him. "Now that you've held me long enough, out with it."
She overlooked his impertinent words and answered; "I'm… as you assumed, where I hail is farthest from here. I've been separated from my companion, you see," she pointed to the sky.
"Companion?"
"I was riding on his back until we crossed a tempest. Before I knew it, I fell off his back. The sky blackened till you found me falling mid-air."
"You'd expect me to believe in such a tale?"
"Take it as you like, good sir, I am neither mad nor a liar."
The more he tried to comprehend her words, the more he doubted. Are these the testaments of a mad woman who escaped someone's cell? Spare her face; to account her words and attire together would easily come to such a conclusion. But then again, more incredulous things have happened within these passing three years. So much so that he had decidedly took her words like a grain of salt.
"No," he shook his head. "I'll take whatever you say for now. Find it a mercy on my part."
"Mercy, good sir?" she rested a hand on her hip. "I assure you I am not mad, despite all that it sounds."
"I believe you," he said, returning his attention back to his horned steed. "But if I find that your strangeness has brought trouble in these parts, expect that I'd come forthwith to deal with you."
She forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders before she surveyed their surroundings. "Neo Verona, hm? I can't say I am ever familiar with a nation with such a name." -her smile melted into a flat line, dropping her gaze as if the reality of her circumstances had finally dawned on her- "Once more… I have…"
It had been a while since he had seen such a sullen face. In the years of Montague's tyranny, forlorn faces and despondent gazes were commonplace of every street he walked. For a traveller to have fallen from the sky and land upon foreign soil was enough for Tybalt to sympathise with her plight. He wasn't normally like this; to easily be soft before such expressions. Tybalt knew of the many times he turned his back upon those who didn't benefit him. A woman's tears mayhap ticked a gut instinct to soothe her woes, but these quiet years must have taken it to a greater effect.
The rogue turned towards the newly established village and pointed his finger at its direction. "Gradisca's farming village is half a mile on foot," his finger then aligned towards the misted capital's walls, "Over there lies the heart of Neo Verona's capital. If you intend to travel there, I'd suggest you to discard those rags if you wish to avoid being mistaken for a beggar."
The stranger blinked; her lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you, sir. I'll remember it."
"Even though Neo Verona is prosperous, these parts outside the capital still fall victim to banditry. It'd be unwise for a woman of your complexion to traverse these plains unaccompanied."
"Fear not, good sir. I am a master of the blade and shield," -she lifted her cloak to unveil her weapon dangling at her hip- "I've fought enough battles to know how to guard my virtue and coin."
He eyed the weapon's pommel and scabbard; its design was intricate and old-fashioned. For a moment he suspected her an actress had it not been for her knightly posture and the scar on her cheek.
"You say that you hail from a land farthest from here," he began. "News of lands beyond this continent is scarce and almost non-existent. Have you come here as an envoy?"
She shook her head. "'Fraid not, good sir. I'm no more than a nomad, as much as I am a hermit on a pilgrimage."
"Very well," he then mounted his steed. "As much as I'd like to pester you with more questions, there are matters I must attend to. But if you are in need of an escort, I can-"
"Thank you for the offer, but I must decline," she shook her head. "I've already troubled you long enough."
"I see."
Heeding those words, he gave a small nod before signalling the creature to take flight. He took one last glimpse of the stranger below and travelled his way towards the capital. As her figure inched away into a speck, a slither of doubt lingered in the back of his mind.
She watched the skies, her face frowned anew. Eyeing this foreign land's splendour, the wanderer's heart retreated back to the gravity of her situation.
"Once more… I am alone," Polaris took a deep breath to stave the tears from falling. "…Aquila… I'm sorry I cannot take you with me this time."
It was ever a wonder how she was able to hold it in and forced a smile before the man. Those grey green eyes he bore spoke of wounds far too deep in contrary to the gazes she had been acquainted with.
His eyes were like his, but different. Though more youthful and resolute.
"Will you forget?" she asked herself. "Or will you remember me the next time we meet?"
Polaris eyed the disappearing silhouette of her rescuer, her heart addled with dread at the thought. As opposed to his words, she turned towards the direction of the woods; expecting no soul to find her there.
One last note, feel free to share your thoughts and criticisms. This story may be coming from a very special place for me, but as someone who wants to get better at writing, I'd like to hear as much of your thoughts as possible. :)