Editing DbS (section)

== SIX ==
⚇乂⚇

'''WHAT'''

YOU KNOW WHAT, WHEN BENVOLIO and Romeo were talking about the girl Romeo was in love with, I wasn’t expecting myself to be questioned. I probably could’ve used my head to figure out that this was going to come sooner or later, but I was expecting these guys to be normal… guys, I guess. 

“Hamlet, are ''you'' in love with someone?” asked Romeo.

The question startled me. Generally, only girls (or a few of my close friends- Zane, if you read this, I’m looking at you, dude) go “So are you in love with anyone, hmm?”

But someone I had known for twenty minutes was asking me. “What?” I asked instinctively, scratching the back of my neck and laughing a bit. 

Benvolio gave me an amused look, smirking a little.

“So. Who do you like?” Romeo rephrased the question, head tilted to the side. 

“Nobody at this particular moment.”

“I have a sister,” said Romeo musing. “You two look perfect for each other.”

Benvolio raised an eyebrow. “Abigail?”

I gave a “.__.” sort of look, and nodded politely. “Cool,” said I, still trying to figure out how to react to this, as my first instinct had been to karate chop someone. I didn’t come on this mission to be match-made. I came to punch some bad guys in the face. Create justice. Pursue it, even. 

“Do you have more sisters?” I asked Romeo, coming up with a good conversation starter and casually avoiding the statement he’d made earlier. 

“I had more, but they died at birth. Abigail was a wise woman, and during the war, my mother decided we needed someone wise. Thus, Abigail,” said Romeo shaking his head, not portraying much emotion at this, as if he didn’t have an opinion on his could-be siblings.  

“What war?” I asked. The book didn’t say anything about a war. Maybe it was just a lore thing that the characters and Shakespeare himself only knew, because he failed to mention it in his play. I hoped that was it, and that it wasn’t a real thing, because my history knowledge would seriously be lacking if I didn’t know about this possibly major war.

“You know…” Benvolio mimed using a sword (it looked more like a lightsaber). 

I gave him a confused look and shrugged. ''What reason would they have to joke around about this? I don’t see how they could, and it would make sense if there were a war if the two families truly hate each other.''

Romeo began to explain. “It was the war that practically tore apart the country piece by piece. It ripped apart families and it is the cause of the feud in the city.”

“Like the war of the roses?” I asked, connecting the dots in my brain, still trying to figure out everything.

“What war?” Romeo asked confused.

“Oh nothing,” I said, thinking I’d almost blown my cover. ''History doesn’t count here, meaning I could, theoretically, do anything I want. I’d have to do a few minor experiments, though, I’m not sure if that’s really how it works.''  

I glanced over at Romeo, who was looking at the sky. “You should be a poet,” said I.

Romeo gave a harsh laugh. “But I’m destined to marry someone I don’t love, and to live in a fortress by myself and to continue this war against them.”

“Them?”

“The Capulets.”

“Ah,” said I, nodding, not wanting to ask any more questions for fear I’d be singled out as an outsider. Not that I hadn’t already been, but still. 

“Come friend, let me take you to my father’s house. There you can rest and… get out of those clothes,” said Romeo, wrinkling his nose.

“And he can meet your sister there,” added Benvolio with a bit of a mischievous smirk on his face. I had had no idea he could be so… irresponsible. 

“Right,” I said nodding, still not sure how I felt about this, and definitely not on-board with their plan.

And so, we continued to the place where the Montagues lived.

- - -

It was a large castle, like the type you might see described in a Robinhood story or maybe in the stories of King Arthur and Merlin and all of those guys. In the actual play, whether there’s actual action that happens in the castle, I’m unsure of because that particular month, I was out of classes. Perhaps it was a really, really, bad fever, or maybe just a severe cold that involved a plot to set the world on fire. You never know, right?

We walked through the entrance which was flanked on both sides with tall watch towers with guards atop each. Was this completely accurate to actual history? Maybe, maybe not. After all, if this really had been the middle ages, there would’ve been people throwing sewage out on the streets, and the streets weren’t filled with sewage, so maybe this was the fairytale middle ages. Or maybe this was really how it was and historians are just liars. Who knows, right? 

Have you ever smelled something that you wished you didn’t? Well that’s basically what happened the second I got into the great halls of that castle. Its putrid stink made me re-think not letting Exodus (a villain I’d fought—coincidentally the one who wanted to burn the whole world) chop off my nose in a fight.

''Definitely not fairytale Middle Ages. Or maybe it is? Maybe Shakespeare just assumed that everyone knew what the inside of a castle smells like and he just let it slide?'' 

There was the slight smell of spices, but all I could really smell was the stench of the castle. 

Trying not to wrinkle my nose, I followed Romeo and Benvolio to a room, that was quite cluttered but in a very organized way. 

It was nice looking, with a hearth, rug, and bed, amongst other things. I was handed some blue clothes by Benvolio, and I quickly changed into them, relishing the semi-clean feel of them, as the ones I’d been wearing before seemed to have some sort of dust on them, and were kind of gritty. I’d never particularly liked blue. I was more… green, I guess. But blue worked, and I was now in clean clothes, so life was good.

“So, Hamlet,” said Romeo starting up a conversation, face still a bit mournful, but clearly he was trying to be polite. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

“Uh, well, I don’t really have much to tell about myself,” I said shrugging. I hadn’t had time to figure out a complex backstory, okay!? Give me a break. 

Benvolio raised an eyebrow and he and Romeo got into a conversation about normal things for normal people to do. It was a few minutes before it got back to me, leaving me some time to brainstorm things Shakespeare people would do back in the day.  

And finally, having thought some, Benvolio and Romeo’s attention was turned back to me. “So, Hamlet…” he said trying out the name (come to think of it, this might’ve been the first time Benvolio had ever addressed me by “Hamlet”). “You never answered Romeo’s question. Tell us where you come from, your favorite things to do, etcetera.”

“Uh, well, um,” said I, trying to come up with a good answer, as my brain had completely failed me. “I suppose poetry is interesting,” I said with a shrug. ''I do not in fact like poetry. I loathe it with my entire being, and movies that leave the end up to my deciding what happened… anyway. Focus. Improv.'' 

“Ah, Romeo likes poetry as well,” said Benvolio, Romeo nodding with agreement. “Your opinion on fencing?”

“Fencing? Fencing. You have to be quite sharp to… fence.” I said, not the foggiest idea what he was talking about. I was tired, okay? I didnt’ have a lot of brain power to work with. Then, my brain seemingly decided to work again, and it woke up to the real world. I shrugged.

“Fencing’s not bad, not bad at all.” Thought I was better at fist fighting, I wasn’t going to let me, myself, be disgraced by backing down from a duel- after all, it would be with rubber or plastic, no harm would be done.

“Yes, yes, of course fencing. You seem like you’d much prefer archery, but your form says you’d be good at fencing,” said Romeo nodding, giving me a once-over.

“Fencing’s… great,” said I nodding, confidence abounding. This was some medieval kid- what did he know about fencing? I’d be fine. Besides, it couldn’t be much different than defending myself against angry dagger wielding people, right? Right.

“Alright then, I challenge you to a duel,” said Romeo getting up from his spot where he’d been sitting.

“Like a duel to the death or…?” I assumed it wasn’t anything serious. Of course, it probably wouldn’t be, right? Also, if I were to die in the fairytale Middle Ages, would I die in real life? These were all questions that needed to be answered.

“A duel… to the pain.”