A Rose by Another Name

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<<set $chapter to "Chapter One - First Scene">> Romeo is enamoured of me. Or rather, Romeo is enamoured of Rosaline. But Rosaline does not exist. She was a pretender brought to life by the expectations of society. She was an illusion, a mask I have shed like a snake sheds its skin. I have burned her miserable existence on the pyre of my self-discovery, and from her ashes, I was born anew, the man I was always meant to be. There is no Rosaline. There is only Tybalt. But Romeo, in his youthful naivety, refuses to allow me the dignity of forgetting the unfortunate circumstances of my birth. Wherever he steps foot, he has naught but that accursed name on his lips: Rosaline, Rosaline, Rosaline. I shudder in disgust. The mere sound of it fills me with a discomfort so great he may as well pierce me with a blade each time he utters it. <div class="links">@@#romeo; <hr> <<link "A Montague, on top of it all!">><<replace "#romeo" t8n>>A Montague, on top of it all! Were I the woman he believes me to be, I would still refuse him, for I cannot think of a greater insult to my family’s proud lineage than a vermin who thinks he can breathe the same air, share our bread or call himself our kinsman. What does he hope to accomplish with this folly? Our houses have been feuding for generations, tracing back to some long-forgotten dispute over land and wealth. The conflict has since escalated into violence and bloodshed. It has torn apart friendships and divided this fair city into two warring factions, each player carrying a staunch loyalty to their family and name. And although the identity of the instigators have been lost to time, I would bet my life on the Montagues being the ones responsible for igniting the flames of discord. No sonnet could ever bring peace between our two houses, and certainly not Romeo’s inelegant prose. Regardless, I need to act before his <<include courting>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "Cursed be the day my past self caught the eye of that foolish boy.">><<replace "#romeo" t8n>>Cursed be the day my past self caught the eye of that foolish boy. His infatuation is but a cruel reminder of a life I never wanted. A cage of falsehood and pretenses I have faught to escape. To most, Rosaline is a ghost, a fleeting memory of an orphan girl destined to join a convent. To Romeo, she is, to hear him say it, the sun that burns in the sky. But to me, she is a nightmare from which I have finally awoken. Yet I am tethered to her not by my own will, but by the obstinacy of others. It is infuriating, maddening, and deeply saddening all at once. How does one kill a ghost that lives only in the minds of those around them? I breathe deeply, steeling myself. Rosaline may haunt Romeo, but she holds no power over me, I repeat to myself. She does not exist, and I am the master of my own fate. I will not be bound by a life that was never real. I need to act before that cretin’s <<include courting>><</replace>><</link>> @@</div>

<<set $chapter to "Chapter X">>  <<set $pariscrush to false>> <<set $parisfuck to false>> <<set $parisrom to false>> <<set $parisjuliet to false>> <<set $parissour to false>> <<set $parisbreakup to false>>  <<set $bencrush to false>> <<set $benrom to false>>  <<set $mercrush to false>> <<set $merrom to false>>  <<set $julietknows to false>>

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<<if !tags().includes("nobar")>><div id="bottombar"><div id="bbblock"><div id="bbtext"><div id="title">A Rose by Another Name</div></div></div></div><</if>>

<h2>About</h2>Based on William Shakespear's Romeo and Juliet, A Rose by Another Name is a short interactive story written, designed and coded by Tris Perrillon. This game is still a work in progress and currently includes all of Chapter One.<ul class="creds"><li> <a href="https://triscuit-writes.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr (@triscuit-writes)</a></li> <li> <a href="https://trisperrillon.itch.io/" target="_blank">itch.io (@trisperrillon)</a></li> <li> <a href="https://ko-fi.com/trisperrillon" target="_blank">Ko-Fi (@trisperrillon)</a></li></ul> <h2>Progamming Assets</h2><ul><li><a href="http://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/" target="_blank">Twine Sugarcube v2</a> | <a href="https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs/" target="_blank">Documentation</a></li> <li><a href="https://twinelab.net/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2/" target="_blank">Chapel's Custom Macros</a></li></ul> <h2>Background Images</h2><ul><li>Scaliger Bridge in Verona by Aleksander Gierymski</li> <li>Piazza delle Erbe in Verona by Aleksander Gierymski</li> <li>Corso Sant'Anastasia, Verona by Richard Parkes Bonington</li> <li>Villa in Florence by William Merritt Chase</li> <li>Villa D'este by Hans Peter Feddersen</li></ul> <h2>Miscellaneous Assets</h2><ul><li><a href="https://fontawesome.com/" target="_blank">Font Awesome</a></li> <li><a href="https://fonts.google.com/" target="_blank">Google Fonts</a></li></ul>

<div class="fog fogan1"></div> <div class="fog fogan2"></div> <div class="mainmenu"><<fadein 5s>><div class="menutitle">A Rose by Another Name</div><</fadein>> <<fadein 5s 1s>><div class="menulinks"><<link 'NEW GAME' "start">><</link>> <<link 'LOAD GAME'>><<run UI.saves();>><</link>> <<link 'CREDITS'>><<popup 'credits' 'credits' 'credits'>><</link>> <<link 'FULLSCREEN'>><<script>>Fullscreen.toggle();<</script>><</link>> <<link 'CONTENT WARNINGS'>><<popup 'warnings' 'content warnings' 'content warnings'>><</link>></div> <</fadein>></div> <div class="menucopy">Version 0.1.1.1.2024.06.11 © 2024 Tris Perrillon <<link 'Changelog'>><<popup 'changelog' 'changelog' 'changelog'>><</link>></div>

foolish attempts at courting me reach my uncle’s ears. Knowing him, he would certainly blame me for “seducing” the enemy. But if “Rosaline’s” pleas cannot assuage Romeo’s passions, then perhaps Tybalt’s threats will reign him in. @@#venturing; <hr> <<link "Thus I venture out into the city.">><<replace "#venturing" t8n>><<include venture>><</replace>><</link>> @@

Thus I venture out into the city dressed in my finest doublet, a hand resting upon the hilt of my rapier, ready for a duel. While I am unsure of the lad’s current whereabouts, I have crossed paths with him and his ilk in various questionable taverns often enough that it seems logical to begin my search there. I do not have to walk far, however, as I hear the sounds of a commotion rising from a few streets away. Swords clash and insults fly amidst the clamour of merchants hawking their wares and the aroma of spices that hang heavy in the air. A common occurrence in Verona, where blood runs hot and old wounds refuse to heal. I hurry in that direction and come upon five men facing one another, all taking up fighting stances. Two of them I recognise as servants from my own house, their blades drawn against two men in Montague colours. The last man stands between the two groups, sword in hand, attempting to break up the fight, his back turned to me. Another Montague, but this one is dressed in finely woven brocade. As I approach, I make out the silky voice of Romeo’s cousin. Not the Montague I was searching for, but I suppose that shall be enough. @@#draw; <hr> <<link "I draw my sword." >><<replace "#draw" t8n>><<include sword>><</replace>><</link>> @@

I draw my sword and point it at the back of his head. “A man of your station would spar with these simpletons?” I taunt, not attempting to mask the smugness in my voice. “Turn around, Benvolio, and face your death.” An exaggeration, naturally. I do not wish death upon anyone, if only because the act could lead to my arrest and bring dishonour to my family. But my blade still thirsts for blood. Benvolio, however, does not indulge me. Keeping his eyes trained on the four ruffians, he speaks to me of peace and asks for my assistance in separating these men. @@#peace; <hr> <<link "Peace. How I abhor the word. Almost as much as I abhor the Montague name.">><<replace "#peace" t8n>><<include fight>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "He is a bigger fool than his cousin if he thinks peace between our two houses is possible.">><<replace "#peace" t8n>><<include fight>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "A commendable initiative, to be sure, but a futile one nonetheless.">><<replace "#peace" t8n>><<include fight>><</replace>><</link>> @@

“You talk of peace but your sword is drawn,” I point out with a sneer. “Fight me, coward!” Swift on his feet, Benvolio turns to face me, his blade clashing upon my steel in a fury of blows as others around us join the fray, some taking one side or the other, but most fighting for the sake of fighting. From the corner of my eye, I even catch a glimpse of my uncle rushing from a nearby street, brandishing his longsword in a most outlandish manner. I lunge forward, my movements fluid and precise, each strike calculated to test my opponent’s defences. He parries effortlessly, matching me move for move, his skill evident in every graceful arc he makes, his form near impeccable. A fire courses through my veins, heightening my senses and sharpening my focus. “For one so reluctant to engage in violence, you show some skill with the blade, Benvolio,” I remark, a playful edge in my voice. “Why, you might even prove to be a half-competent swordsman after all.” He meets my gaze, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “And you fight with such feline grace, Tybalt. Perhaps you would be more suited to dancing the volta across a ballroom floor than clashing steel on these cobbled streets.” I narrow my eyes. @@#bencrush; <hr> <<link "Is that admiration I hear in his voice?">><<replace "#bencrush" t8n>><<set $bencrush to true>>His dark curls dance in the breeze, framing his soft, almost angelic features, determination etched into every line. I watch, alert, as he raises his sword high, the sunlight catching the gleaming blade, his muscles rippling under his sleeves. Sweat glistens on our brows, our breath coming in ragged gasps as we circle each other. My heart races, blood pounding in my ears as I focus on his every move. There is a fierce intensity in his stance, a strength that I find both infuriating and... captivating. A sense of anticipation fills the air and I feel a strange flutter in my chest. He presses closer, our bodies almost touching, the tension between us almost palpable. His eyes, dark and penetrating, never leave mine, as if daring me to look away. Momentarily distracted by his charming smile, I leave my left side open and Benvolio does not hesitate to strike. <<include dodge>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "No, he is merely taunting me.">><<replace "#bencrush" t8n>>We circle each other, our gazes locked in an unspoken challenge, each exchange of blows fueling the tension between us. With each parry and thrust, our movements become more frenzied, more desperate. Sweat beads on our brows, the heat of our duel rivalling that of the low-hanging sun. Our blades flash in the light, the steel singing as they clash with force. Benvolio meets each strike with precision, his calm demeanour belying the intensity with which he fights. As loathe as I am to admit it, he is perhaps amongst the most formidable men I have had the pleasure of duelling. With a surge of determination, I push forward, my blade finding purchase against his. Benvolio grunts in surprise, his grip faltering for just a moment. But he is quick to recover, his eyes narrowing in focus as he regains his composure. His features harden with resolve as he pushes me back with a swift counterattack, no longer holding back. <<include dodge>><</replace>><</link>> @@

I dodge, but not fast enough. Feeling a sting, I bring a finger to my cheek and find it stained red. The cut is small, barely a scratch, but the fiend managed to draw blood. “There,” he states, taking a cautious step back but not sheathing his blade. “First blood. Now let us part as gentlemen.” @@#never; <hr> <<link "“And yield to the likes of you? Never!”">><<replace "#never" t8n>><<include never>><</replace>><</link>> @@

“And yield to the likes of you?” I scoff. “Never!” I fight with renewed energy, pushing him back with each strike. If the smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes is any indication, Benvolio, for all his talks of peace, appears to savour our altercation near as much as I do… until his heel catches on the edge of the fountain and he tumbles into the water. I only just manage to contain my laughter, but cannot help looking down upon him with smugness. Pressing the tip of my blade under his chin, I tilt his head up and meet his gaze. “Do you yield?” He scoffs, but his smile does not disappear. “Aye, I yield.” “Good.” I step away and have already begun to leave when I recall the purpose of my outing. Turning back, I pause to add, “Tell your cousin that if he ever speaks Rosaline’s name again, I will cut him down like the filthy rat he is.” “What—” Benvolio begins, but the unsurprising arrival of the city guard, accompanied by Prince Escalus, cuts him off. The Prince’s voice carries over the piazza as he begins to address the battling crowd. “If ever you disturb our streets again,” he warns us all, stern and commanding, “your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.” His eyes sweep the crowd, pausing for a moment on Benvolio, soaking wet, and myself before moving to my uncle, then the Montague patriarch. With everyone’s attention turned towards the city’s ruler, I take the opportunity to sneak away from the scene. I do not stay to hear the rest of his plea for peace. I have heard such speeches more often than I can count and they always end the same way: inevitably, someone will defy the edict. <div class="links"><hr> [[Continue.|mercutio]]</div>

<<set $chapter to "Chapter One - Second Scene">> Rather than linger in the streets, I choose to return home to wash out the grime accrued during the fight so that I do not spend the day looking unkempt. As I navigate the winding alleys, a familiar figure intersects my path, nearly colliding with me as we both reach a street corner from opposite directions. “Mercutio!” I hiss, fingers instinctively curling around the hilt of my sword. I adopt a defensive stance, all too aware of the villain’s penchant for dishonourable sparring tactics. He grins, mischief dancing in his eyes like shadows flickering in torchlight. “Well, well, well,” he coos. “The Prince of Cats himself! What a pleasant surprise.” His tone, laced with undisguised contempt, suggests the pleasure is in fact neither his nor mine. Closing the gap between us, he halts just shy of our noses meeting. Despite the early hour, the pungent scent of ale wafts from his breath, but I stand my ground, resisting the impulse to recoil, refusing to display any sign of weakness before a man who revels in the knowledge that I cannot touch him. <div class="links">@@#mercrush; <hr> <<link "Inexplicably, my heart leaps at our closeness.">><<replace "#mercrush" t8n>><<set $mercrush to true>><<include taunt>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "My grip tightens around my blade but I fight the temptation to unsheathe it.">><<replace "#mercrush" t8n>><<include taunt>><</replace>><</link>> @@</div>

<<if $mercrush>>My eyes narrow, the tension between us palpable. I can feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, a dangerous proximity that sets my senses on edge.<<else>>Mercutio has long been a thorn in my side, more irritating than all the Montagues combined, yet kin to the Prince and above my station. Striking him, however justifiable I might be to do so, would undoubtedly incur Escalus’ ire, and I find myself unwilling to tempt fate in the wake of his most recent edict.<</if>> “I have heard about your little altercation with Benvolio,” he says, his words <<if $mercrush>>dripping with calculated charm. “How you left him quite... wet.”<<else>>oozing with mockery.<</if>> <<if $bencrush>>The mention of Benvolio sends a ripple of anticipation through me, my skin still tingling with excitement at the memory of our encounter. “What of it?”<<else>>I scowl at the <<if $mercrush>>suggestive<<else>>derisive<</if>> tone in his voice. “I see word travels fast in Verona. What is it you want, Mercutio?”<</if>> <<if $mercrush>>He leans in even closer, his warm breath ghosting over my cheek. I feel a surge of heat at his proximity, a rush of desire that I quickly quash. Mercutio is a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous. But there is something undeniably alluring about him, something that draws me in despite my better judgment. Disgusting. A smirk plays on his lips, and I steel myself against the urge to smack him. “I must say, I do admire a man who knows how to handle a blade.”<<else>>His grin widens, a predator scenting blood. “I must admit, I was surprised to hear you know which end to hold your sword with.” He is toying with me, relishing the opportunity to provoke a reaction, and it takes all my restraint not to succumb to the urge to strike him where he stands. My jaw clenches with frustration, but I hold my ground.<</if>> “Careful, Mercutio,” I warn, my voice <<if $mercrush>>barely a whisper<<else>>dropping to a menacing growl<</if>>. “You may find that I still have some fight left in me.” He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I do hope so,” he murmurs, his <<if $mercrush>>lips brushing against my ear.<<else>>words carrying the weight of a looming threat.<</if>> And then, before I can react, he is gone, disappearing into the shadows of the narrow street. I stand there for a moment, <<if $mercrush>>my heart pounding in my chest<<else>>seething with anger and frustration<</if>>, before shaking myself out of the daze. With a curse under my breath, I straighten my shoulders and continue on my way home, determined to put the encounter behind me. <div class="links"><hr> [[Continue.|paris]]</div>

<<set $chapter to "Chapter One - Third Scene">> Reaching my family’s villa, I find myself facing another of Prince Escalus’ kinsmen, one whose presence within my sight is far more welcome than Mercutio. “Ah, Tybalt, my old friend.” Paris smiles at me fondly, pairing his greeting with a slight bow. “It has been far too long since my eyes have gazed upon you.” I return the gesture graciously. “Count Paris! I see you have returned from Venice. How was your journey?” “Rather dull, to be quite honest. I fear I shan’t regale you with tales of my exploits today.” “What brings you to us, then?” “Ah,” he sighs, a grimace crossing his features as we move to the loggia. Around us, servants bustle about in preparation for tonight’s festivities, their hurried movements and lively chatter adding a sense of anticipation to the air. Floral arrangements are meticulously placed, candelabras are being polished to a high gleam, and the scent of baking bread wafts through the halls, mingling with the sweet perfume of blooming jasmine from the garden. “I was visiting your uncle regarding a personal matter,” Paris explains, casting a fleeting glance towards the garden where I catch sight of my young cousin Juliet playing with a cat, her innocent laughter blending with the melodies of nature, “but it would seem I have come at an inopportune time.” “Oh? For which purpose do you seek him, if I may?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. For a moment, a shadow passes through his eyes, but it vanishes in less time than it takes me to blink, and Paris deflects my question with a wave of his hand. “Nothing that cannot wait.” His gaze slides down my body, lingering longer than the rules of propriety dictate, then back up, stopping at my lips. “I think I would much rather enjoy the pleasure of your company instead.” <div class="links">@@#parisrel; <hr> <<link "The man is shameless in his attraction towards me, but I have never been interested in him in such a way.">><<replace "#parisrel" t8n>>I roll my eyes. “I fear my uncle is currently otherwise occupied,” I say, ignoring his blatant attempt at charming me. “I believe your cousin, Prince Escalus, might have summoned him.” “I see.” His tone is nonchalant, but his eyes hold a glimmer of something deeper. He seems hesitant, as though he wishes to confide something, but quickly recovers his usual composure. “I do hope my dear cousin will not put him in a foul mood.” “It seemed the Prince was the one in a foul mood, to be quite honest.” A roguish smile curls on his lips, one I am sure has been the downfall of many men. “When has Escalus not been in a foul mood?” I look away, heat creeping up the base of my neck. “I may bear some of the responsibility for it this time,” I am willing to admit. “Could it, per chance, relate to your current state?” he asks, an eyebrow raised, gesturing at my unkempt clothes. “Perhaps.” He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “You always find ways to cause mischief when I am not here to stop you.” “I find ways to cause mischief with you as well.” “True.” He laughs again, louder this time, the hearty sound echoing through the open space. <<include parischoice>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "We have been physically intimate in the past, but our relationship has never been more than a dalliance.">><<replace "#parisrel" t8n>><<set $parisfuck to true>><<include parisfuck>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "Against my better judgment, I harbour romantic feelings for him, even though I know them to be unrequited.">><<replace "#parisrel" t8n>><<set $pariscrush to true>><<include parisromchoice>><</replace>><</link>> @@</div>

I smile but shake my head. “Not while the sun still hangs in the sky. Someone might catch us.” Our secret tryst would be indecent enough if I were a woman, but two men together… The scandal would bring ruin and dishonour upon us. “A pity. You look particularly enticing today.” I scoff nervously, my heart racing. “I am dishevelled, and my clothes are muddied from an earlier altercation.” “And I would have taken great joy in peeling them off your body,” he murmurs. The husky quality in his voice sends a shiver down to my core. My heart hammers in my chest. I hesitate, tempted to throw caution to the wind, but the nearby sound of servants moving around shakes the desire out of me. I clear my throat, taking a step back. <<include parischoice>>

@@#parissex; Against my better judgment, I harbour romantic feelings for him, even though I know them to be unrequited. He has always made it clear that his interest lies not with my heart, but with my flesh alone… <hr> <<link "…and I have freely given it to him.">><<replace "#parissex" t8n>><<set $parisfuck to true>>Against my better judgment, I harbour romantic feelings for him, even though I know them to be unrequited. His interest lies not with my heart, but with my flesh alone, and in a moment of selfishness on my part, I have found myself clinging to any morsel of affection he is willing to offer me. <<include parisfuck>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "…but I have resisted temptation and kept his most ardent passion at an arm’s length.">><<replace "#parissex" t8n>>My cheeks grow warm at the suggestion. Although I harbour deeper feelings for him, I have thus far resisted the temptation to indulge these forbidden desires. It would be improper—nay, scandalous if such an affair were to be discovered. Two men found together in an intimate embrace would bring dishonour upon them and their families as surely as the rooster crows in the morning—to say nothing of the consequences of the curse the Lord saw fit to place upon me at birth. I clear my throat, taking a step back. <<include parischoice>><</replace>><</link>> @@

@@#pariswhy; <hr> <<link "“Why have you really come, Paris?”">><<replace "#pariswhy" t8n>><<set $parisjuliet to true>>“Why have you really come, Paris?” He lets out a deep sigh, his brow pinched with tension, and leans against the balustrade. His gaze surveys the verdant landscape and the horizon beyond, as if he could not bear to look me in the eyes anymore. “I plan to ask your uncle for his permission to marry your cousin.” The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. “My cousin?” I echo incredulously. “You mean Juliet?” My eyes settle on her small figure, flitting through the garden, amidst the sparkling fountains and blooming flowers. Beside me, Paris stiffens, his silence enough to confirm my suspicion. I have always known duty and honour to matter more to Paris than genuine affection, but he has never even met Juliet. What could he want from her? “I have always been under the impression that you did not enjoy the company of women,” I continue, my tone cautious. “I am aware of my own proclivities, Tybalt,” he counters with a sneer. “Escalus has been pressuring me to secure a suitable match for some time now. Believe me, it is not her company I am seeking with this union.” I frown, perturbed. “Her dowry? Are riches all that matter to you?” “Just as my title—” He spits the word like some foul-tasting fruit. “—is all your uncle wants from me.” Silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. I cannot deny his accusations. My uncle did endeavour to bring us together as children in the hopes of forging an alliance with a powerful family, just as his Montague rival had done with his own boy. But from this calculated first meeting, a close friendship bloomed, and calling it anything less would be an insult to everything we have shared. <<include parisjuliet>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "“If you leave now, you might be able to find him there still.”">><<replace "#pariswhy" t8n>>“If you leave now, you might be able to find him there still.” Silence fills the loggia, broken only by the distant chirping of a bird, as he considers his course of action. Hesitation flickers across his face, a peculiar look in his gaze betraying a hidden turmoil. His eyes dart between mine, searching for something unseen. For a moment, he falters, biting his lower lip in a rare display of vulnerability, his usual charm replaced with uncertainty, as if wrestling with conflicting desires. I raise my brow in a silent question, the air between us growing thick with unspoken words. Finally, with a decisive nod, he straightens his posture, a resolute gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps I shall. Thank you, Tybalt, for the suggestion.” <<include parisleaves>><</replace>><</link>> @@

@@#parisexplain; <hr> <<link "“Why her?” I ask.">><<replace "#parisexplain" t8n>>“Why her?” I ask. My voice <<if $pariscrush>>trembles, betraying my yearning. Why not me? I want to ask. He holds no more affection for Juliet than he does for me—perhaps less, given his inclinations. But I already know the answer to that question. My feelings for him aside, I would have to abandon this life and revert back to masquerading as a woman if I were to enter a public union with a man, a sacrifice I am unsure I would be willing to make, even for Paris. Besides, I am only the heir to the Capulet fortune so long as I remain as I am. As a woman, the sum of my wealth would be worth very little, a fact Paris is no doubt aware of.<<else>>rises, betraying my anger. After all these years, Paris ought to be aware of how much I value my family. As strong as our friendship may be, it could never rival the unwavering loyalty I hold for my kin. Juliet is of my blood; there is no line I wouldn't cross for her. I would die for her honour if I must—kill, even. The tension in the air is palpable, his frustration matched only by my own resolve to protect Juliet.<</if>> “You could have your pick of any maiden in Verona, so why Juliet?” “Any maiden in Verona,” he repeats bitterly. “You assume I care for any of them. But the person I wish I could marry...” His voice trails off, his expression haunted. He shakes his head as if to clear away the thought. “Your cousin is agreeable and comely, or so I have been led to believe, and I am on good terms with your family. ‘Tis as simple as that.” I shake my head, a sense of injustice rising within me. “Juliet deserves more than to be a pawn in these political games.” “None of us are free of such burdens, my friend. We do what we must for our families’ honour and legacy.” <<include parisleaves>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "“Does our friendship mean nothing to you?” I ask.">><<set $parissour to true>><<replace "#parisexplain" t8n>>“Does our friendship mean nothing to you?” I ask. My voice <<if $pariscrush>>trembles, betraying my yearning.<<else>>rises, betraying my anger.<</if>> <<if $parisfuck>>Our relationship is unlike most friendships, to be sure, but<<else>>We have called each other friends ever since childhood.<</if>> I like to think our bond is as strong as the steel of my blade. “Do not mistake my intentions,” he replies calmly. “It is because of our friendship that I am choosing to tie myself to your family instead of another of better or equal status.” A shudder runs through me at the thought of him joining House Montague. He studies my face, his eyes searching for a reaction. “I am a good prospect. By my side, Juliet will want for nothing.” “Marriage is meant to further one’s lineage,” I remind him. The thought should <<if $pariscrush>>stir jealousy,<<else>>feed my anger,<</if>> yet all I feel is sadness for my young cousin’s future. “I do not intend to bed her,” he informs me with contempt. “Not now and, to be frank, possibly not ever. The thought of lying with a woman… I find it repulsive beyond measure.” “What happens when Juliet fails to produce an heir, then? Will you shift the blame onto yourself? Or will you ignore her and let that unjustified guilt drive her to despair until she is but a husk of the girl she once was?” His features harden, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what of your future betrothed, Tybalt? Do you not think she will suffer from your inability to give her a child?” My brows furrow. My fists tighten at my sides. Were he anyone else, I would have struck him down for his insolence. He speaks boldly but true. I am the heir to the Capulet legacy. This fact comes with certain responsibilities I cannot ignore, a strong marriage being one of them. But I hope to meet a woman with whom I can be myself without fear of betrayal, an ally first and foremost, a friend I can trust with my secret like I do Paris. That he would think my situation comparable to his is insulting. “I am not the one rushing into marriage with someone I have never even spoken to.” An expression not unlike pity crosses his<<if $pariscrush or $parisfuck>> handsome<</if>> features. “You will someday, sooner than you think.” <<include parisleaves>><</replace>><</link>> <<if $parisfuck>><<link "“And what of our relationship?” I ask.">><<replace "#parisexplain" t8n>><<set $parisbreakup to true>>“And what of our relationship?” I ask. My voice <<if $pariscrush>>trembles, betraying my yearning.<<else>>falters, betraying an underlying bitterness.<</if>> Paris meets my eyes, his expression tender but resigned. “Nothing has to change between us. Our relationship is one that can only exist in the shadows, no matter the façade we choose to present to the world.” He steps closer, his voice a mere whisper. “And my marriage to Juliet will be but a formality, a necessary sacrifice given the world we live in.” Sacrifice. Lovely word to describe one’s intended bride. I wonder which one he uses when he thinks of me. Shame, perhaps. “No. I cannot do this to Juliet. She deserves more than to be some pretty face for you to parade around with.” I shake my head and lift my chin, struggling to keep my voice firm. “And don’t I deserve better than to be a dirty secret you keep on the side?” His face falls. “Society would never allow us to be together openly, as we are both well aware. This union between your cousin and myself would be socially acceptable, and it would make you and I kin.” He reaches out, his fingers curling around mine. “It would give us reason to meet as often as we fancy.” I pull away from him, my heart heavy. “I am growing weary of these clandestine meetings under the cover of night, Paris. I want more than stolen moments and whispered promises. I cannot wait for you behind closed doors while you stand in public playing the part of my cousin's beloved husband.” “Tybalt, I—” “If you go through with this union—if you marry Juliet—I cannot in good conscience allow us to carry on as we have. Both for my sake and for hers.” Hurt flickers across Paris' handsome face before he masks it with a hardened expression. “Very well. If that is…” He takes in a deep breath, swallowing with some difficulty. “If that is your wish.” “It is,” I confirm, sounding more confident than I truly feel. <<include parisleaves>><</replace>><</link>><</if>> @@

<<if $parisbreakup>>His shoulders sag in defeat.<<else>>His gaze softens with unspoken longing.<</if>> He reaches out, his hand coming up to <<if $pariscrush or $parisfuck>>cup my cheek gently, <<if $parissour>>but I swat it away, the ache in my chest too great to bear his touch. <<else>>the touch <<if $parisjuliet>><<if not $parisbreakup>>both a comfort and <</if>>a torment<<else>>a balm<</if>> upon my soul.<</if>> <<if not $parissour>>I lean into him<<if $parisbreakup>> despite <<if $pariscrush>>the ache the gesture creates in my chest<<else>>the irritation I still feel for him<</if>><</if>>, savouring the fleeting moment of intimacy before he pulls away.<</if>><<else>>pat my arm gently, <<if $parissour>>but I swat it away, the bitterness I feel too great to accept his comfort. <<else>>the touch <<if $parisjuliet>>not as comforting as he might have hoped.<<else>>light and affectionate.<</if>> I respond with a <<if $parisjuliet>>weak smile, attempting to mask my pain<<else>>warm smile, returning the friendly gesture<</if>> as he pulls back.<</if>><<if $parissour>>I swallow down the feeling, realisation that our paths are diverging settling heavily on my heart.<</if>><</if>> <<if $parisjuliet>>“Farewell, Tybalt.”<<else>>“I shall see you soon. There is… much we need to talk about.”<</if>> Then, with a final, wistful glance, Paris turns and strides away, leaving me standing alone <<if $parisjuliet>>with the weight of his words<<if ($pariscrush or $parisfuck) and not $parissour>> and<<else>> <</if>><</if>><<if ($pariscrush or $parisfuck) and not $parissour>><<if not $parisjuliet>>with<</if>> the memory of his touch.<<else>>in the brightly lit loggia.<</if>> His steps echo against the marble floor,<<if $parisjuliet>> each one a reminder of the distance growing between us.<<else>> getting fainter until they disappear completely, swallowed by the labyrinthine halls of the villa.<</if>> <<if $parisjuliet>>I remain rooted in place, unable to move, overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment.<<elseif $pariscrush>>I sigh, the weight of his absence already settling upon my heart.<<else>>I turn my attention towards the garden, taking in its serene beauty.<</if>> Around me, <<if $parisjuliet>>as if nothing has changed, <</if>>the preparations for tonight's ball continue unabated. I can hear the small orchestra practicing in the ballroom and orders being given to the servants, <<if $parisjuliet>>but I feel little of the anticipation I did prior.<<else>>anticipation for the upcoming event enveloping me in its fervour.<</if>> <div class="links"><hr> [[Continue.|juliet]]</div>

<<set $chapter to "Chapter One - Fourth Scene">> Still <<if $parisjuliet>>on edge after Paris’ visit<<else>>restless after my earlier altercation with Benvolio<</if>>, I let my feet guide me through the sunlit garden to Juliet. I find her sitting beneath the protective shade of the marble statue of some ancient deity or another. A heavy book clasped in her hands, her brows furrowed in concentration, she traces the lines of text with her finger, the chaos reigning in the world beyond our walls holding no sway over her. Out here, in the tranquillity of our family’s villa, time seems to slow to a gentle crawl. The soft rustle of turning pages fills the air, mingling with the distant chirping of birds, creating a sanctuary of peace I find most welcome. “Good morrow, sweet cousin,” I call out, my voice echoing softly in the tranquil space. “What literary masterpiece has captured your attention today?” Startled, she snaps the book shut, meeting my gaze with wide eyes. “Rosaline!” “Tybalt,” I correct her, grinding my teeth in a poor attempt of suppressing the shudder coursing through me. “Apologies, cousin, I forget,” she mutters, looking down at her hands to pick at her fingers. Grimacing, I take a seat beside her on the stone bench and let the summer warmth caress my skin. Juliet is young, I remind myself. She has yet to grasp that this is not a disguise. I am a man. I have always been a man. And I cannot bear being addressed as Rosaline any longer. I sigh, pulling her hands apart. “Stop this. You’ll hurt yourself. And it is I who should apologise. It was not my intent to scare you.” “You oughtn’t sneak up on others like that,” she agrees with a pout. “What has ensnared you so thoroughly you did not notice my arrival?” Her cheeks flush a bright colour, rivalling my doublet’s crimson shade. “It’s a collection of sonnets,” she confesses. “I know you deem poetry a frivolous pastime but I find it to be the most exquisite form of art.” <div class="links">@@#poetry; <hr> <<link "“I can think of much better use of one’s time, it is true.”">><<replace "#poetry" t8n>>“I can think of much better use of one’s time than indulging in this sentimental drivel,” I retort. “Perhaps if you dedicated your mind to exploring more substantial works, you might find yourself agreeing with me.” Poetry has always struck me as one of the lowest forms of art, a diversion for dreamers with too much time on their hands. But Juliet, enamoured with flowery language and romantic ideals, sees it differently. <<include powerofpoetry>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "“It is not the medium I object to but rather its subject.”">><<replace "#poetry" t8n>>I purse my lips. “It is not the medium I object to but rather its subject.” “Love?” Juliet responds with an amused smile. “I find poets’ propensity to exaggerate their emotions overwrought.” “The beauty of it lies in that very exaggeration,” she counters. “The way they weave words together to express the depth of their feelings, the intensity of longing… It is truly remarkable.” I shake my head, still unconvinced. “Their flowery language is nothing more than a cacophony of overblown sentiments that fails to properly capture reality.” <<include powerofpoetry>><</replace>><</link>> @@</div>

“You always say that, but you underestimate the power of poetry. It has a way of expressing emotions that simple prose cannot capture. It is like glimpsing into the depths of someone’s soul.” Juliet sighs, her eyes alight with passion. “Allow me to show you.” With that, she proceeds to flip through the pages of the book, searching for a piece her stubborn cousin might, at the very least, tolerate. I scoff, but settle back against the cool stone of the bench, willing to indulge her. “If it pleases you.” She clears her throat and, determined to prove me wrong, begins to recite the verses. I listen, sceptical at first, as she speaks with a flourish, her voice smooth and melodic, bringing life and feelings to the words on the page. The poem she chose is a tender sonnet, with delicate phrases that dance around the theme of unrequited love. But it is verbose, and the rhymes too often inelegant. @@#youlike; <hr> <<link "Still, I feel a stirring in my heart as it begins to resonate with me.">><<replace "#youlike" t8n>>As Juliet finishes, I find myself drawn in, captivated by the imagery and emotion woven into the lines. Despite my initial reservations, I cannot deny the beauty of the words and the depth of feeling they convey. There is a certain rhythm to them, a cadence that speaks to something deep within me despite my reluctance to admit it. Juliet glances at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Fine,” I concede begrudgingly. “I suppose there is some merit to it.” Her smile widens, eyes sparkling with triumph. “I knew you would come around.” “To be fair, you do have a way of making it sound... almost pleasant.” Juliet laughs, a sound filled with warmth and affection. “There might be hope for you yet, dear cousin.” <<include moment>><</replace>><</link>> <<link "I remain detached, my mind stubbornly resisting the pull of the words.">><<replace "#youlike" t8n>>As Juliet finishes, I am silent for a moment, battling against my entrenched disdain to keep a neutral expression. Despite her passion and the skill with which she delivers the lines, I remain unmoved. The words wash over me like a gentle breeze, leaving no lasting impression on my soul. “It was… well-delivered. I do envy your ability to find meaning in these verses.” I offer her a tight-lipped smile. “But I still maintain that poetry is not my preferred form of literature.” Juliet laughs, a sound filled with warmth and affection. “You shall come around one day, Tybalt,” she says, patting my hand gently. “Do not underestimate your own capacity for appreciating the beauty of the world.” <<include moment>><</replace>><</link>> @@

I offer no response, allowing the moment to pass in silence as we sit together, the tranquillity of the garden enveloping us in its warm embrace. The air is crisp and fragrant, the breeze playing gently with the pages of the open book between us. Surrounded by the beauty of nature and the gentle laughter of my cousin, I feel a sense of contentment washing over me. Juliet is young. I cannot fault her for her romantic preconceptions. She has yet to learn that love is more than the burning passion portrayed in those poems and that for those of our station, marriage is not the idyllic union she imagines it to be. Few of us are given a choice in such matters, women even less so. And even I am bound by familial expectations to take a suitable spouse<<if $parissour>>.<<else>>, but given my situation, I would need to find one I can trust not to reveal my secret.<</if>> I only hope Juliet does not lose her innocence too fast, <<if $parisjuliet>>but after Paris’ visit,<<else>>but she will soon be a woman grown, and<</if>> I fear my prayers might be in vain. “Tell me,” Juliet speaks up, breaking the silence, “what brings you to the garden? It is not often I see you wandering about without a specific purpose.” Her question snaps me out of my reverie. <<if not $parisjuliet>> @@#pleasure; <hr> <<link "“Why, I was merely seeking the pleasure of your company.”">><<replace "#pleasure" t8n>><<include company>><</replace>><</link>> @@<<else>>I cast a glance toward the looming shadow of the villa, weighing my options. @@#tellabtparis; <hr> <<link "She needs to know about Paris’ proposal. She has to be prepared for the eventuality that her life might soon take a different course.">><<replace "#tellabtparis" t8n>><<set $julietknows to true>>I exhale a deep sigh, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. “Count Paris came to visit earlier. He has yet to speak with your father, so nothing is certain, but he has expressed interest in you.” “Oh.” Her brows knit together as the implications sink in. “Is he a wicked man? Is that why you look so glum today?” I recall my earlier conversation with Paris, <<if $pariscrush>>and how my heart ached upon hearing his intentions. <<else>>or rather the argument that ensued after he voiced his intentions. <</if>>The memory stirs conflicting emotions within me. The underlying sense of calculation in his words and his cold pragmatism left me unsettled, yet I cannot reconcile that man with the one I have known all these years. “Paris is...” I pause, weighing my response carefully, especially considering the romantic notions Juliet might harbour. “He is a man like any other,” I say simply. “That does not answer my question, cousin.” I hesitate again, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling within me. “He can be terribly selfish at times, and your own happiness might not always be a priority to him,” I admit carefully. “But he is not an evil man. He possesses many admirable qualities, in fact. He is courteous and well-mannered, with a respectable standing in society.” Why I feel the need to defend his honour eludes me. <<if $pariscrush>>My feelings for him must be getting the better of my wisdom.<<elseif $parisfuck>>Is his prowess in bed so remarkable it shattered all sense of rationality within me? <<else>>Years of friendship cannot be unravelled in a single day, I suppose.<</if>> The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Juliet falls into a pensive silence, mulling over my words. “Do you think Father will accept his proposal?” “In truth, I cannot say. Your father loves you, of that I have no doubt. He would not force you into an arranged union at such a young age, but Paris bears a title and is kin to the Prince. That alone might sway his decision.” I watch as uncertainty clouds Juliet’s expression, the weight of her future bearing down on her young shoulders, and reach out to give her hand a gentle squeeze of comfort. Her demeanour then changes. She straightens, determination marked on her face, making her look a few years older. “As you say, Father has not yet agreed to give me to him.” “Juliet…” “But if he does accept the Count’s proposal, I shall strive to be a good wife and love him to the best of my capability.” My heart sinks at her resignation. <<if $pariscrush>>And despite my concern for her well-being and future happiness remaining at the forefront of my mind, I cannot deny the pang of jealousy that stirs within me.<<else>>Concern and regret for the life she might be forced into swirl within me, knowing that her youthful dreams may soon be sacrificed on the altar of duty.<</if>> The thought unsettles me deeply.“Let us talk about more pleasant topics, shall we?” Juliet suggests suddenly, her bright smile returning like a beacon of optimism. “The masquerade is tonight. I find myself excited beyond measure.” A sentiment I find most welcome after such a heavy topic. @@#plan; <hr> <<link "“Say, what marvellous garb are you planning to wear?” she asks.">><<replace "#plan" t8n>>Say, what marvellous garb are you planning to wear?” she asks, all thoughts of Paris seemingly thrown to the wind. <<include clothes>><</replace>><</link>> @@<</replace>><</link>> <<link "I had a change of heart. I do not wish to worry her with such hypotheticals.">><<replace "#tellabtparis" t8n>>Paris has yet to speak with my uncle and might still reconsider doing so. With hope, our relationship holds more weight than mere political alliances and my opinion matters more to him than he let on. <<if $pariscrush>>He might not return the deep feelings I harbour for him, but surely all that we have shared over the years means something to him still.<<elseif $parisfuck>>While there are no deep feelings between us, our closeness could sway his decision.<<else>>Our years of friendship might yet influence his decision.<</if>> <<include company>><</replace>><</link>> @@<</if>>

“Why, I was merely seeking the pleasure of your company,” I tell Juliet with a playful grin. Her smile brightens, and for a moment, the worries of the world seem to fade away, leaving only the warmth of the sun and the melodic song of the birds. “And I am glad you did,” she replies, her features sparkling with genuine happiness. “There is a matter of great importance I wish to discuss with you.” <<if $parisjuliet>>A matter of great importance? Surely she cannot mean… Has Paris already spoken to her? Lord only knows how long he had been at the villa before I returned. The possibility gnaws at me, the thought churning uneasily in my mind until Juliet continues, oblivious to my disquiet, “Tonight’s masquerade ball.”<<else>>I arch an eyebrow, her unbridled joy bringing a smile to my lips “A matter of great importance?” “Tonight’s masquerade ball.”<</if>> <<if $parisjuliet>>I exhale a small sigh of relief. <<else>>I let out a quiet laugh. <</if>>“Ah, the masquerade, naturally.” “I have been bubbling with anticipation all morning,” she gushes. “Who do you think will attend? Will Signior Martino’s daughters be there? I do so enjoy their company.” I smile at her youthful enthusiasm, myself feeling a flicker of nervosity for the upcoming festivities. “I hear the last of the invitations have yet to be sent.” The Capulet patriarch has undoubtedly mastered the art of building anticipation. “Oh, what a thrilling event it shall be,” she enthuses, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I can hardly contain my eagerness. Masqued intrigues, enchanting music, lively dances—oh, and of course, the prospect of meeting eligible suitors! Do you reckon I might lay eyes on my one-day husband tonight?” <<if $parisjuliet>>My smile fades, Paris’ proposal once again looming over my mind.<<else>>My smile falters, an ominous feeling washing over me.<</if>> “You are still young, Juliet,” I intervene gently, trying to temper her passion. “There will be time aplenty for these sorts of pursuits once you come of age.” Her brow dips. “I suppose.” A pang of guilt washes over me as she deflates. However, my words only momentarily temper her enthusiasm before she brightens up again. @@#wear; <hr> <<link "“Have you decided what you wish to wear?”">><<replace "#wear" t8n>>“Have you decided what you wish to wear?” she asks. <<include clothes>><</replace>><</link>> @@

“I have had the tailor fashion the most exquisite apparel,” I reply, sharing her enthusiasm for the upcoming event. “A formal attire of vibrant red silk, with intricate golden embroidery. It was described to me as a celebration of the rich hues of summer.” Juliet’s eyes widen with excitement. “You will look positively enchanting!” “And what about you?” I inquire, genuinely curious. “What attire will you grace the ballroom with?” “A gown of midnight blue brocade, embroidered with silver thread, reminiscent of the starlit sky.” “That sounds lovely. I am looking forward to watching you glide across the ballroom floor. You shall captivate all who gaze upon you.” Her plump cheeks flush with a pink tint rivalling that of the blooming roses behind her. “You believe so?” “Truly.” As she goes on to describe in intricate detail her vision of the evening, I glance around the lush garden, taking in the vibrant colours and the intricate patterns of shrubbery and flowers. The sun casts a warm golden glow over everything, imbuing the scene with an ethereal beauty, as if nature itself were preparing for the grand event. “While we are on the subject of clothing,” I interject, “I ought to return to the villa and make myself presentable. It would be uncouth of me to attend lunch in these stained garments.” “I had noticed your unkempt appearance. May I ask what caused your disarray this early in the morn?” I purse my lips. “It is nothing you need to concern yourself with. The matter has been settled. Now if you would excuse me, I must take my leave.” With a slight bow, I bid farewell to Juliet, thoughts of opulent dresses, fine wine, and <<if $parisjuliet>>my conflicting feelings for Paris<<else>>the enduring allure of anonymity<</if>> swirling in my mind. <div class="links"><hr> [[Continue.|ball]]</div>

<<set $chapter to "To Be Continued">> That’s it for now! Don’t hesitate to follow me for updates on future content! <div class="links"><hr> <a href="https://triscuit-writes.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr</a> <a href="https://ko-fi.com/trisperrillon" target="_blank">Ko-Fi</a></div>

(List subject to change as new content gets released.) <h2>General</h2><ul><li>You play as a set character with a set background, gender and name. There is no character customisation.</li> <li>This will be a short story of only three chapters and an epilogue, with an expected final word count of around 20k words.</li> <li>The text is written in a first-person POV.</li> <li>The story may contain historical inaccuracies for the sake of storytelling.</li></ul> <h2>Triggers</h2><ul><li>The story includes mentions of period-accurate sexism and homophobia, as well as deadnaming occurrences. </li> <li>The story contains descriptions of gender dysphoria.</li> <li>Each romance can lead to an explicit sexual encounter which is entirely optional (you may choose to read the scene, skip it, or not engage at all).</li> <li>Every character depicted in these scenes is over the age of 18.</li> <li>As per the original play it’s based on, this story contains violence and major character deaths, including MC’s and two of the ROs’.</li> <li>There is no happy ending possible.</li></ul>

A Rose by Another Name is a game intended for mature audiences above the age of 18, containing violence, death, explicit sexual content and mentions of topics that may be disturbing for some readers. [[I understand. Take me to the game.|menu]] <<link 'I want to see the list of content warnings first.'>><<popup 'warnings' 'content warnings' 'content warnings'>><</link>>

<h2>Patch 1</h2><ul><li>Slightly cropped the background of the piazza to remove the unfinished bit on the right side of the painting.</li> <li>Adjusted the UI on mobile so that the footer doesn't overlap with the choice links.</li> <li>Fixed some minor coding mistakes.</li></ul>