They say that Tybalt was full of fire and rage, ready to take on the next fight with a flourish, being the one to make the first blow. Reckless, carless and unforgiving is what he was called.

But he wasn't always like this.

Tybalt and I had grown together, us of different households, me not of Capulet or Montague, but a relative of the prince. Due to my lack of parenting, meaning my nurse was more like my mother, she would come to the Capulet household and I would run amok with Tybalt by my side.

One would say that Tybalt would kick a dog on the side of the street if it looked at him the wrong way. This is untrue. As a child, I remember Tybalt holding a kitten he found under a bush, lost and hungry. He had kept it from his parents and raised it with a little help from me. Eventually, the cat died and Tybalt wept for the loss of his friend.

I had called him King of Cats since.

One day when we were young, Tybalt asked, "Do you want to get married when you grow up?"

"No, I don't," I said, which was different from the other girls. I wasn't like them.

Tybalt sat there playing with his toy sword as I balanced on the small wall where he was sitting, short enough for us of nine years to sit on easily. "Neither do I."

"Looks like we're in the same boat," I said.

He then got this shining look in his eye I only saw when he had an idea. "Why don't we get married when we're older? We are friends and neither of us want to be married, so why don't we marry each other and pretend we aren't married at all?"

I smiled. "King of Cats, that would still make us married. And we've never shared a kiss." I jumped down from the wall.

The nine year old smiled before leaning and giving me a small kiss on the lips. "Then it's settled."

Tybalt and I had brought that up years later when we both thought the other had forgotten.

As we got older, we were no longer able to play as common children our age do. Instead, we took lessons, etiquette and academics. He always loved the art of science, while I took a better approach to literature.

And then, the feud had gone from bad to worse.

Not a soul had been killed, and no one knew why the heads of the houses had such hate for the other. All we knew was that the Capulet hated the Montague and vise-versa.

Tybalt become obsessed with it, wanting to rage war as his fencing lessons drew him closer and closer to gaining his sword, which he did achieve in good time. How he did, there was no question; Tybalt was a born swordsman.

While I wasted my days learning the ways of a lady, Tybalt took on each day with a new excitement, sword fighting, politics and such, while I did none of that.

Then, came the day our parents told us we were to be wed. Tybalt came to my door that day, shaking nervously and I just smiled, asking him if he would like to enter my home. Our parents had never known of our agreement as children.

The relationship grew and nobody needed to know more. We were in love and that was that.

"You are my sun, the one that rises and brightens my every waking day," he would tell me.

"Tybalt, you do know how to flatter a young lady, don't you?" I covered my face, blushing from his comment.

"My dear, why must you hide? Come, or we shall play a daring game of cat and mouse," he would say when I hid my face. He would be the cat and I would be mouse, but I never minded. He was my dear King of Cats and I was his sun.

The war of the houses grew intense. As I would shop, he and Benvolio would fight on Verona streets where the officers and citizens would come to break them up, wanting nothing but peace.

And then came the feast for his dear cousin's fourteenth birthday, the day she was supposed to be wooed by Paris before their marrige. Tybalt watched as the Montague Romeo and Benvolio would enter the party with the kinsman Mercutio, a cousin of mine, though we were never close. I watched as he argued with Capulet about throwing them out, and watched as Tybalt was overruled by his uncle, making him turn in defeat.

But, then I watched as he made his way over to me and would give me a soft smile.

"Would you care to dance, my dear sun?"

I would smile and nod and dance the night away with my dear Tybalt. It was the last dance I would share with my love.

The next day came as I made my way to the Friar's cell only to hear of Romeo and Juliet's marriage, the wedding happening at that very moment. And the next time I saw Romeo, he had come into a fatal brawl.

Tybalt and Mercutio fought, him saying my name for you, King of Cats, and I watched as my love's rapier cut through the fabric of the kinsman's robes into his flesh. As he realized what had happened he ran, his bloody sword in hand as his men followed behind.

Tybalt came to me and told me everything was going wrong, that he didn't mean for it to happen. He just wanted him to stop, all he wanted was to talk to Romeo, yet he hadn't the chance before being swindled by the kinsman into a fight where his life had accidently been taken.

I tried to stop you, Tybalt, but you walked back and another fight broke out; this time between you and Montague's son, Romeo.

I watched as Romeo and you clashed swords, as he avoided a blow from above and below, as you backed him closer to the wall before I watched the dagger come from the Montague's belt and sink into your skin, blood seeping through your robes.

"TYBALT!" I screamed and tried to run for him. Tybalt's men held me back, and I was kept from my love.

Only until after the prince arrived did I figure a way to get myself away from the men holding me against my will. With two swift kicks and what seemed like a couple of steps, I was kneeling at Tybalt's side, begging him to rejoin me in the living world. My love could not be dead. Romeo couldn't have killed him.

But, my Tybalt didn't awaken.

My dear King of Cats was dead and there was nothing I could do.

Have you ever lost a loved one that was so dear to you that you couldn't imagine life without them? That was me. I would never feel the gentle touch of my Tybalt's finger tips, or kiss his soft lips ever again. I would never hear his low voice call me his rising sun ever again. And I would never see the amusement and loss in his eyes when I called him my dear King of Cats. He was gone, leaving me behind.

I cried for days on end before leaving for Mantua. I knew of people there who would help me find Romeo, and find Romeo I did. I watched as he yelled at the stars after his servant told him news of Juliet's death, my love's cousin. Was everyone dying? Was this all a fight to the death, for everyone? If then, so be it.

Romeo had become a madman, just as I had become a madwoman. That night, I made my way to the tomb and saw not only the death of Romeo, but the death of Juliet as well, her real death.

As she had died, I had made my way into the tomb while the watch and the prince exited with Romeo's servant, the Friar, and the families trailing behind everyone. I had no time before they would come for the bodies.

"I will join thee soon, my good King of Cats," I said before I took the poison. Watching Romeo, I had taken the liberty upon myself to do the same, buying a small bottle of poison, just as Romeo had. He drank and kissed his lover and died. I entered, I said words of comfort to myself and drank the poison, holding the hand of my beloved as I fell limp over his dead body.

Death didn't scare me. What scared me was the outcome. Would I see Tybalt again? Would we be in a place of happiness? Or would we be sentenced to an eternity of searching for one another?

I opened my eyes and found myself in the small meadow with the wall we used to go to as children. It was warm and sunny, like the summer days on which we used to come and play by the nearby river. Wildflowers grew prettily here, just as they had when I was young. Nobody was able to take that away, the beauty of my childhood, which grew on. And the stone wall was long and seemed endless as it reached the trees and the stones jutting out slightly made it look like a beautiful puzzle.

And there, sitting on the wall with a smile on his face and a kitten on his lap, was my dear King of Cats.