Chapter 10
Chapter – 10
A thunderous call echoed across the theater.
“Juliet! Where have you hidden yourself?”
The nurse burst onto the platform, her antics drawing easy laughs from the crowd with their over-the-top flair.
“I vowed my purity at twelve to track you down! Come out, girl! Enough of this!”
In that instant, a shadow flickered across the ornate backdrop.
Cascading ebony locks caught the light.
The glimpse held every gaze captive for a heartbeat.
Such a quick reveal only fueled deeper intrigue.
Fingers pointed upward to the balcony, accompanied by delighted murmurs.
“Up there! That’s her!”
The spectators plunged headlong into the drama.
A ripple of chatter stirred the air, yet the seasoned performer turned the buzz into playful energy without missing a beat.
“Where is she?”
“Right up there!”
“No, over here!”
“Hereeeee?”
Chuckles swelled as sharper minds connected the dots.
Juliet Capulet took form before them.
Louisa Messena embodied her—the disgraced duchess who had auctioned her family’s legacy in this very hall for scraps.
The same woman, unrepentant, now commanded the boards in scandalous spectacles alongside striking performers.
Rumors painted her beauty, but curiosity demanded proof.
As disdain thickened the atmosphere, a figure emerged not from the balcony but the pinnacle of the set.
Gasps silenced the room.
Some had come armed with projectiles for the fallen noble’s debut.
Those impulses vanished in a stunned pause.
Her allure overwhelmed them.
Elegant braids framed porcelain features that gleamed beneath the glow.
Crimson irises sparkled with enigma, a refined profile leading to lips twisted in sly amusement.
“Foolish nurse.”
The haughty tone rang clear, yet carried an unexpected charm.
She evoked a genuine fourteen-year-old sprite.
Elise blinked in confusion, her preconceptions shattered.
The tales depicted a debauched empire pariah—puffy-eyed from excess, snarling obscenities at galas.
Reality defied every whisper.
A flicker of mischief sharpened her visage, true enough.
Elise questioned her own imagined horrors for Lady Louisa.
Doubt rippled through the assembly.
They abandoned prior scorn, mirroring the impish teen’s spirit instead.
Then the girl in her gown dropped onto a ledge crowning the structure.
Pure youthful recklessness defined the perch.
She cracked open a volume, lifting it casually.
Below, the nurse paced in agitation while the reader savored her seclusion.
Discovery came swiftly.
“Your mother seeks you now!”
The urgent shout stripped away Juliet’s smirk, leaving a timid child in its wake.
“Mother does?”
“Immediately! Down here!”
Silence gripped her.
She scanned the watchers.
Complex feelings flashed across her face, instantly decoded.
No overplayed gestures needed.
A fourteen-year-old Juliet lived before them.
Elise recalled her own summons—irritation laced with dread, the tangled resentment and unease of youth.
The pull dragged her into the tale, tightening her chest for what followed.
“Count Paris intends you for his bride.”
Juliet’s features stiffened, prompting Elise to trap her lip between teeth.
An urge bubbled up to cry out against the match.
What fate awaited the cast, especially with such a vibrant young lead?
Romeo stood out as the undeniable hero.
Elise fidgeted, hooked on their impending clash.
It arrived without delay.
Capulet’s masked revelry unfolded.
Romeo, smitten with cousin Rosaline, slipped in disguised and crossed paths with Juliet.
Lutes wove gentle melodies as their stares met, sparking instant passion visible to all.
They ducked behind drapery.
Elise’s pulse raced with frantic curiosity.
A glow ignited the hidden nook, brighter than the foreground, outlining their forms.
That profile! Sharper than her prospects.
Sister Juliet! Brother Romeo!
Ages be damned; the labels stuck in her mind.
Distinct silhouettes neared, inch by inch.
Darkness swallowed the scene.
Frustrated mutters erupted nearby.
“Silence! We’re missing it!”
“Just venting! If lips meet, show us already!”
Hadn’t that voice scorned such tales moments ago?
“True enough!”
Elise ignored the uproar, riveted.
Identities unraveled next.
“Romeo, cast aside that name. Forsake your lineage. Claim me instead.”
Feuding bloodlines be damned; devotion sealed their pact.
Doom shadowed their path, undeterred.
Romeo confronted the friar, defiant: enemy’s kin or not, love knew no barriers.
Juliet defied her elders outright, vowing union with her chosen.
Calamity struck.
“Curse your warring clans! Death claims me by dawn!”
Tybalt slew Mercutio, Romeo’s comrade.
“You’ll join him soon, Tybalt!”
Avenging fury guided Romeo’s blade through his foe.
The raw duel and blazing glare left the crowd suspended.
Adult grudges had warped the reluctant youth into this.
Breaths caught at the unfolding ruin.
The finale hurtled forward: princely exile for Romeo; Juliet’s feigned demise for their rite; his oblivious despair ending in self-slaughter beside her still form.
“This blessed blade, find rest in my breast.”
Fierce gaze locked on the throng, Juliet brandished the weapon.
Scarlet eyes burned.
Her snarl cut deepest.
No face rivaled hers in intensity; it seared into memory.
Perfection wielded peril so naturally.
Awe mingled with shared agony as steel pierced flesh.
Fate’s cruel snap shattered their bliss, the initial sprite lost forever.
Elise mirrored the grief.
Tears flowed unchecked since Romeo’s fall, now a torrent.
Don’t perish.
Pain clawed her core; quiet sobs escaped.
In shadows, her sleeve dusted damp cheeks.
A shaky breath sounded close.
“…No, stay alive… Louisa…”
Her father, stoic till now, betrayed reddened eyes and wet trails.
“Uhh… please… Louisa…”
“Father, she’s Juliet.”
The correction steadied Elise briefly as she dabbed his face.
Explanations died on her tongue amid his grief.
No shame lingered.
Sobs echoed everywhere.
* * *
Panting raggedly.
Louisa slumped onto a crate amid backstage clutter, eyeing the performers queue for bows.
A moment’s air before facing them.
The crowd’s fervor had swept her under too fiercely.
Her final throes veered toward excess.
Such fervor marked stage beasts.
Thrill-seekers, critics called them, blooming wild under spotlights versus rehearsals.
Adoration ignited overblown fervor, risking collapse.
She rarely succumbed, but their zeal infected her.
Sleeve scrubbed lingering moisture from skin.
Sting pricked her lids.
“Urgh…”
“Hold position.”
Proximity sharpened the murmur through haze.
She jerked away instinctively.
“I respect your boundaries. It’s just cloth.”
Silk grazed delicately.
Lashes parted to golden scrutiny overhead.
“Master favors the role over me, it seems.”
Staged crimson smeared her vividly.
Even artificial, it chilled her flesh.
Fingers balled tight.
Chaos masked their solitude now.
Screams unheard amid the din.
Bloodied grin met her wariness.
She braced inwardly.
A loose beam would fell him if needed.
Yet his words twisted oddly.
“Still… might you spare a fragment for me?”
Madness tempted pointlessly again.
