Now, No Doubt You Hate Me.
My first Rosvolio fic!
“Capulet! Are you there?” Rosaline heard a hoarse voice from below her balcony and tread quietly to her window and peered out. It had belonged to Benvolio Montague, her betrothed but he was half hidden in shadow and hunched over as if in pain.
“Montague, what on earth are you doing here this time of night?” She demanded looked vexedly down at him.
“Please, I had no where else to go,” he pleaded leaning against the pillar beside the wall underneath the balcony. Rosaline could see him better now he was nearly fainting.
“Stay there! I’ll come down!” She said grabbing her cloak from her bed and hastening with soft steps out of her room downstairs and outside. Benvolio had lost much blood and could barely stand by the time she reached him.
She looked him over and saw his wound on his left side. Rosaline thought the boiler room next to the kitchen would be unoccupied from prying eyes. The Montague would be safe hidden there till he regained his strength. “You’ll have to help me to get you inside,” she said firmly looking into his hazel eyes glazed from the pain. Nodding, Benvolio understood and together they got to the boiler room and she eased him as gently as she could onto the cot. Groaning, Benvolio sank into the mattress, his body drenched in sweat. Carefully, Rosaline loosened his black shirt and fetched fresh water and rags where she bathed his fevered brow and washed his wounds which, thank God would heal. She wasn’t as good at nursing as her younger sister, Livia but she tried to remember what would be appropriate. She didn’t know who to trust to care for him and she wasn’t about to inform her aunt and uncle.
“Rosaline-,” Benvolio murmured her name softly. Rosaline looked at him, he’d never called her her first name before. She realized to herself how she liked the way it rolled off his tongue. “Shh, try to rest, Montague.” She said laying her finger gently to his lips. Benvolio drifted into unconsciousness.
Rosaline watched him a moment, Ben,- Montague, looked so boyish and peaceful his blondish brown hair mussed in an endearing way. Suddenly on impulse her hand tenderly brushed away some dirt from his cheek, she removed it quickly like she’d been shocked at how bold she’d been.
“Are you alright, Capulet?” Benvolio asked opening his eyes to meet her face.
“Of course.” Rosaline felt a little flustered as she busied herself to make appear that she was in the process of tending to his wounds when there had been something else that distracted her.
Benvolio studied Rosaline there was something about her that had made him come to her when he had been wounded. It wasn’t love, no; but respect and trust that had made him come. He couldn’t yet fancy the idea of winning her and Rosaline, - the name felt like a prayer in his heart at the thought, could ever dream of the fancy of loving him. She loved the Prince, their sovereign and matchmaker. He had to know something and suddenly kissed her. Dead silence filled the room and after a few tense awkward moments, Benvolio spoke aloud. “
"Now, no doubt you hate me, Capulet.” His eyes shifted downwards berating himself for daring to such an overture on her person in such manner.
Rosaline was stunned for a moment or two but instead of finding herself angry at his advance she felt relief. “Now, no doubt I hate you,” she repeated back to him softly. Their eyes met and they understood one another perfectly.