When Tybalt learned he was to be wed a girl, he protested harshly. He didn’t wish to marry some small girl that was Juliet’s age. Unfortunately, the wedding proceeded. Now here he was, sitting awkwardly next to his now wife while her veil sat atop her head. They were to consummate the marriage but he didn’t see that happening.

“You can take the veil off,” he tells her, sitting a nice distance away. She nods and takes it off, his mouth goes dry. She was prettier than he expected. And his age.