Archive of Our Own ^beta

In another life, one where she stands by a husband she loves and, more importantly, trusts, Hero would be more than a little miffed that Beatrice had showed up her wedding.

In this life, however, she is grateful that all eyes in the room get snagged on her cousin’s bright red hair as she is twirled around in Benedick’s arms, that all ears in the room perk up at the crackling cackle that Benedick lets out when Beatrice kisses him. The two jive across the room, frenzying up the crowd into an energized rendition of “Hey Nonny, Nonny!”. Hero smiles into her champagne when Beatrice dips her husband at the end.

“What fun!” 

Her smile freezes. ‘Tis Claudio, she thinks, trying to turn her face away. She must not have heard him come up to her, so focused on her cousin’s happiness as she was. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” she murmurs belatedly, taking a quick sip to keep from talking any further.

“We should join them!” He turns to her then, face shining like a sun. “Dance with me, wife!”

Every wretched cell in Hero’s body is torn. On one hand, there’s a part of her that knows she cannot refuse her husband; she is his now, for better or for worse, in the eyes of the world around him. On the other hand, there’s a part of her that cringes at the thought of touching him, of looking into his eyes and seeing that bright naivety, of trying to hold back her outraged screams in the guise of a happy smile… the thought of saying ‘yes’ makes her sick.

(And then, deeper in her soul than she cares to look, there’s a part of her that wants nothing more than to accept his hand and melt back into his arms.)

Claudio looks at her expectantly, hand still outstretched in front of her face. “Hero?” he says blithely, utterly unaware of her internal struggle. “Don’t you want to dance, my love?”

Love, is it? Hero thinks, the words sharp and bitter and vicious in her mind. Where was this love when you ruined me in front of my whole city?

Before she can even open her mouth, her cousin collides into her, hair flying into her face and getting into her mouth.

“Sorry Count!” Beatrice laughs, flushed and panting from her dance. She threads her arm through Hero’s and takes a gulp of her champagne “But I must steal my cousin away now!”

And with that, she whisks Hero away, leaving behind a sputtering Claudio. 

“Benedick will take care of him,” Beatrice says, voice low and quiet. “You shan’t have to see him for the rest of the night.”

“Until I go to bed,” Hero says back, slowly pulling her arm away from Beatrice. Her cousin looks at her with a sorrowful face.

“I’m so sorry, cousin,” she whispers, pushing a lock of hair away from Hero’s forehead. “I wish I could do more.”

Hero sighs and takes her hand. “‘Tis not your fault, cuz. You’ve already done so much, besides.”

“Would that I could take this away from you,” Beatrice insists. “Perhaps we could be bedfellows? Just for tonight?”

A warmth spreads through Hero at the sheer love in Beatrice’s voice. “Cuz,” she says softly, “You know we can’t. It is my wedding night.”

“Signora Tracy stayed with her mother on her wedding night,” Beatrice counters, face flushing again from her earnest pleas. “She did not sleep with her husband then!”

“But the Signior was off to war.” Hero sighs again and squeezes her cousin’s hand. “I thank you again, cousin, but there’s nothing that can be do-”

“Could somebody plEASE HELP ME- OOF!”  

Hero whirls around to see Benedick lying on the floor, Claudio sprawled out over him.

“Signior Benedick! Count Claudio!” her father cries. “What on Earth-”

“-The man has had much to drink,” Benedick grunts. “‘Tis my fault, good sir: I had challenged him to a drinking duel.”

Leonato chuckles. “Seems like he has forgotten about your prowess in this field, Signior.”

“Aye, my lord,” Benedick says, wheezing as Claudio is pulled off of him, “Just like I had forgotten about his absolutely nasty habit of planking when piss-drunk!”

Leonato laughs again and gathers his son-in-law in his arms. For an old man, he is surprisingly strong.

Not strong enough to defend his own mind against poisoned thoughts, Hero’s mind whispers, vicious and brutal. Hero shakes off the thought as she sees her father carry Claudio out of the room.

“Well, lady.” Hero turns around to see Benedick talking to Beatrice, hands holding both of hers. “I have done my work,” he says, face lighting up like a puppy’s as he looks to Beatrice for approval.

“And done it well, besides,” Beatrice says, smoothing down his tie. “I did not doubt you would.”

Benedick’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s this?” he says, voice tinged in teasingly dramatic disbelief. “Is this my Lady Disdain’s praise, I hear?”

“The highest of praise,” Beatrice proclaims. “You do deserve it, even if you do carry only one wit on your person most of the time.”

Hero watches them laugh and a sudden, fierce ache overtakes her. She wants that, wants it with a yearning so sharp it cuts her insides into bloody ribbons. She swallows back the sob that threatens to explode in her throat and coughs gently. “What job, Signior?”

Benedick turns to Hero, and his smile softens. “Ah, Lady Hero,” he says, “‘Tis nothing of import; you need not worry about it.”

“And yet worry I do,” Hero says, “For I feel it may have something to do with my- husband.”

If Benedick notices the stumble in her words, he does not bring attention to it. “Well, you aren’t wrong… I challenged him to a drinking battle.”

He looks at her then, as if the statement should be significant. And suddenly, she knows.

“You,” she says slowly, “made a sleeping drunk of the Count on our wedding night?”

Benedick hums. “I would think it more that he has made a sleeping drunk of himself, my Lady.”

Hero blinks. Then she laughs, relief charging through her like a coursing river, flooding her senses and washing away her anger, her pain, for one shining moment. 

“My dear Signior,” she says, when her laughter finally dies down. “You must call me ‘cousin’, now. What you have done for both me and my cousin warrants that much.”

Benedick beams. “I’ll only abide should you not call me ‘Signior’.”

Hero puts her hand forward and shakes Benedict’s with a firm grasp. “‘Tis a deal, then!”

“A deal, cuz.”

“Alright, alright,” Beatrice says, clapping her hands to get their attention. “The job is done, the deal is done, and now is the time for dancing!”

“Aye,” Hero laughs, even as her heart twinges at the idea of letting her cousins go to be merry without her. Still, it is their wedding night too, and she should not be so greedy to keep them where they do not want to be. “I shall leave you both to it!”

“Psh!” Beatrice yanks on her arm, and Hero yelps when she knocks into her, ankle almost twisting with the force of her pull. “I did not mean him! I meant you! Did you really think you would not dance with me on your wedding day when we’d been plotting it for ages, cuz?”

Hero didn’t think she’d be dancing at all today, but somehow she knew that would be the wrong thing to say, even if it was the truth. “But won’t Benedick mind?” she blurts out instead, still regaining her footing.

“I assure you cuz,” Benedick says, winking, “He does not.”

“And I would do so even if he did,” Beatrice proclaims.

“And I would love you the more dearly for it,” Benedick murmurs, stepping back to let Beatrice make her way to the dance floor. Hero, struck by shock and happiness, does not follow.

“C’mon cuz!” Beatrice calls, hand outstretched. “Dance with me!”

Hero does not know what tomorrow or the rest of her life may bring, but tonight, she is a girl looking for fun. Tonight, she is unbound by marital promises in a marital bed. Tonight, she is free.

So she smiles and throws back the rest of her drink. “Coming!” she says, bounding over to her cousin as the band starts up again.