Editing DbS (section)

== EIGHTEEN ==
⚇乂⚇

'''I GET ACCUSED OF MURDER (AGAIN)'''

MY FRIEND STARED AT THE slain Tybalt with shock. He stepped back, eyes wide. 

There was silence from the crowd. Not a word was spoken, there was no twittering of birds. All was quiet.

Then, a shout. A boy- who must’ve been something like seventeen- jumped out, shrouded in a bright red tunic, shouting curses at a bewildered Romeo. 

“YOU MURDERER! YOU THIEF OF LIFE! HOW DARE YOU KILL TYBALT, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU–” he rushed forward before being held back by Benvolio who had leapt forward, ready to defend Romeo. Another person, this one with an earthy brown tunic held back the boy’s other arm, straining at it. 

The boy who had jumped forward’s face was twisted in rage, piercing blue eyes looking straight at Romeo as if trying to slice through him. 

Romeo was backing up still, slow and steady, rapier back in his belt, a fearful, confused, look on his face as if he didn’t understand what was happening. 

“Romeo,” I said, coming forward, and grabbing his arm. He looked at me like a terrified animal backed into a corner, eyes wild. “We have to get out of here- hide in a house or something.” 

“I- I can’t- we have to bury Mercutio-” his face contorted, going from a sorrowful stare at Meructio’s slain form to a vengeful rage, then to a hopeless expression. 

“We can’t. People will bury him, but for now, we have to ''go'' before it’s too late.”

“Tis too late, gentlemen,” a voice grunted, and Romeo whirled around on his toes, jittery like a rabbit. I looked behind us, where stood a man who could’ve been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty, giving us a stern look. 

“I know what you’ve done. No mercy shall be given. The Prince is on his way.”

''If the Prince is on his way and I’m associated with Romeo, will we both be put in prison? Or killed?''

Four men, wearing deep green tunics came rushing in, clearly a squad of people, all bunched together, each’s eyes darting from person to person. 

“I have the ''worst'' of luck,” muttered Romeo, side-stepping behind myself. ''Great, I’m going to die in the Middle Ages.'' 

“Where’s the man who killed Mercutio? And Tybalt the murderer?” 

A stout, tall, man had spoken, clearly the leader of the pack. 

“Tybalt is right there!” exclaimed the swallowtail-bearded man behind Romeo and I, pointing to the bloodied body of Cap’n Hook. “And the murderer you seek is here.” He grabbed Romeo by the arm and yanked him out from behind me. Romeo looked like he wanted to bite the man. 

''Shouldn’t Romeo be gone by now? Maybe I’ve started a chain reaction…'' 

Romeo looked the green-tuniced man in the eyes, matching his stance. “It was I,” he said, standing up straight “who killed Tybalt.”

The crowd gasped. ''Duh,'' I wanted to say. ''You all saw it happen.'' 

“You must die, then,” said the portly man, nodding matter-of-factly. 

The sound of hooves and talking made the crowd part. A man- Prince Escalus- came through on his horse, giving the people a commanding look. 

Following him were two sets of parents- the Montagues and Capulets. Romeo shrank back behind me. 

The fat man who had been questioning the crowd dropped down onto one knee. “Your Highness.” 

Prince Escalus nodded to the man in greeting. “Denaius. What news have you?”

Denaius stood up, gesturing to me and Romeo. “That child killed Tybalt.”

The Prince’s face darkened. “Is this true?” he asked, giving me a stony look. 

“It was I, O Prince,” said Romeo, stepping out once again, face grave. 

“Did you start this fight?” the Prince asked, gaining composure, masking his emotions. 

Benvolio came onto the scene. “I can tell you all you need know, noble Prince Escalus.”

The Prince nodded for him to go ahead. And so, Benvolio did. 

“... and so, Romeo avenged his friend- your relative- by slaying the Capulet, Montague.”

The Prince gave a long sigh, before starting to speak. He was interrupted, however, by an enraged woman in bright red.

“He killed my nephew! Young Romeo killed my nephew, O Prince! I need justice- and you are bringer of this! Pronounce judgement on Romeo, the death penalty!”

Romeo’s face drained of its color and I took a deep breath, ready to employ evasive measures. 

The Prince’s eyes burned with anger. He was ready to speak, but Montague spoke up, eyeing Romeo and I.

“Prince! Not Romeo. Mercutio was his friend- why should a friend slay a friend? For it was Tybalt who slayed Mercutio!”

Prince Escalus held up a hand, looking down at Romeo from his horse. He glared at Romeo and I, bright ginger hair catching the sun, looking a lot like a fire. 

“And for killing Tybalt, he shall be exiled from our fair Verona. If he is seen, he shall be killed on sight. As long as my family stays in power, Romeo and his line will be outcast from Verona. It is settled.” 

He turned his horse, which was a speckled gray, around before steering it away, expertly avoiding stalls. 

Romeo looked between the exiting Prince and I, speechless. His dark hair was still a mess and his amber eyes were wide with fear, anger… and was that slight excitement? 

''Why- no,'' how''- is he excited?'' I wondered, looking at him with slight confusion. 

“Romeo!” Benvolio cried to his friend. “You need to go.”

Mrs. Montague dashed forward, wrapping Romeo in a tight hug, further messing up his hair. “My son, don’t you ever do something so fool-hardy as to run out and attack someone- although, of course, it’s understandable you’d want to attack a Capulet- ever again because so help me if you do–” she shook him by the shoulders, unwrapping her arms from around Romeo and giving a ''grr'' sound.

Montague came up, giving Romeo a stern look. “Romeo, while I am proud of you, that was hardly a good decision to attack Tybalt like that.”

Romeo looked up at his dad, frowning a little. “He killed Mercutio,” he said flatly. “So I took revenge. ‘Vengeance is mine.’”

“Thus says the Lord,” his mom finished sharply. “Not yours for the taking.”

Romeo gave a grunt. Benvolio raised a brow at him. “Time to go, Romeo.”

“Too soon!” his mother cried. 

“Right,” his father agreed at the same time. 

“Hamlet,” said the swallowtail-bearded father of Romeo looking down at me. I was only a head shorter.

“Yes..?” I knew what he was going to say.

“Will you go with Romeo and make sure he doesn’t… commit any more crimes?”

I nodded. Romeo scowled. “Why doesn’t ''Benvolio'' come?”

“Because, cousin,” said he, giving Romeo a pointed look. “I have business to attend to.”

“Business?” echoed Romeo, holding back a scoff- barely. “Since when have you attended ''business''?”

“Since now,” snapped Benvolio, giving him a frown. “Surely, you’ll be able to handle yourself until I visit you in Mantua.”

“Surely,” Romeo muttered, fidgeting with his cloak. He glanced at me, less annoyed-looking. “Let’s go, then, and allow Benvolio to ''attend to his business.”''