#belovedrosaline

Who can say what the heart wants? Now that I've spent some time with him, I see how foolish I was to protest the match. He is quite witty, and handsome. And in fact my heart cannot wait until the day we wed.

What if we meet a man who falls in love with you instead?

As the cart drew near, Benvolio drew in a sharp breath. The other two passengers were actually dummies made of tarred rags, one in bridal white—cruel effigies, he realized, of himself and Rosaline.

Rosaline would have known him for one. Pale skin, proud features, dark hair that must have many times been the despair of a nurse’s comb—aye, here was one of the handsome, dark, devilish Montagues her mother had warned her of when she was a child.

As you say, the world is watching. It sees a city at war, a ruler untested. Your betrothal, and the wedding that will follow, are spectacles. Europe must believe that you are in love. And that your children, and your children's children, are the foundation of a lasting peace. So you must give them a convincing show.

Is he kind? No. Maybe, I don’t know.