A LOVE WRITTEN IN ERROR

Authors Note: 🖤✍️ A LOVE WRITTEN IN ERROR - is the reimagined story of ROMEO AND JULIET. Which is written in Dark Romance -Ended by Tragedy. ------- INTRODUCTION ------- THERONA was a city that remembered hatred better than it remembered peace. The stones of its streets were worn smooth not only by centuries of footsteps, but by the constant dragging of steel, swords drawn too quickly, daggers dropped in panic, shields scraping against walls as men prepared for violence they barely understood. The city had been built on trade, art, and faith, yet it survived on something darker: pride sharpened into hostility. No living soul could name the origin of the feud between the Mondragon's and the Calluete's Scholars speculated, elders whispered half-remembered tales, and priests spoke of sins passed down like curses. Some claimed it began over land. Others spoke of a broken marriage contract, or a duel fought over a perceived insult. Whatever the truth, it had long since it lost the meaning. The cause had dissolved, but the consequence remained, an unbroken cycle of resentment. Children were born into the feud before they understood language. A Mondragon child learned early which names were spoken with clenched teeth. A Calluete child learned which streets were crossed quickly, which glances returned with suspicion. By the time they were old enough to ask why, the answer was always the same, because it has always been so. Therona's mornings were deceptively calm. Church bells rang, merchants opened their stalls, and sunlight cleare the city in gold. Yet beneath the ordinary ran of their live's, tension waited like a coiled blade. A careless word, a misread expression, or a chance encounter was enough to ignite violence. Authority existed in Therona, but it was fragile. The Prince issued decrees, threatened punishment, and spoke of peace, yet his words carried less weight than bloodline. Laws bent beneath family allegiance. Justice was slow, anger was swift. The Mondragon occupied the northern site of the city, their estate overlooking narrow streets where shadows clung even at noon. Their banners bore symbols of lineage and endurance, reminders that survival required strength. While the Calluete's ruled the southern site, they are wealthier, louder, and more rigid in their sense of honor. Their home was grand, its gates tall and imposing, a fortress disguised as a household. Between these two domains lay the city itself, caught like flesh between opposing blades. Men gathered in taverns not to drink, but to boast of past fights and imagined victories. Songs were sung about courage, though courage often meant striking first. Insults were currency, traded freely, escalating disputes that ended in bloodshed. Therona's s youth learned early that restraint was mistaken for weakness. Religion tried to soften the city’s heart. Churches stood at every turn, their doors open, their candles burning in quiet defiance of the violence outside. Friars preached patience and mercy, yet even they were not immune to the influence of the feud. They spoke carefully, choosing words that would not anger one family over the other. Neutrality was survival. The oldest grudge did not sleep. It lingered in the air, in the way strangers sized one another up, in the way hands hovered near sword hilts, in the silence that followed the mention of certain names. Therona breathed hatred as naturally as it breathed air. And in such a city, love was not merely forbidden, it was dangerous. Because the "hatred" in Therona was an inheritance. It was passed down not through written law but through gesture, tone, and silence. Fathers did not need to explain the feud to their sons; the way their voices hardened at certain names was enough. Mothers did not speak openly of violence, yet they warned their daughters which houses were never to be trusted, which faces were never to be welcomed. Romeo Mondragon grew up beneath the shadow of this inheritance. At twenty-seven, he was considered a man by Therona’s standards, yet the city had shaped him long before he reached adulthood. As a child, he had witnessed fights break out without warning, men he recognized from feasts and celebrations suddenly turning into enemies, blades flashing under the sun and moon. He learned early that emotions were volatile, that pride can be easily wounded, and that retaliation was expected. Yet Romeo was different in ways that Therona neither encouraged nor understood. He felt deeply, recklessly. Where others hardened themselves, he allowed emotion to rule him. He could love deeply and be very sad, and he went back and forth between the two with little control. In a city that valued dominance, Romeo was vulnerable. Juliet Calluete, eighteen years old, inherited the feud differently. Her childhood was quieter and more controlled. Violence occurred beyond the walls of her home, not within them. Her world was governed by expectations, obedience, marriage, and the preservation of her family’s honor. She was taught that her worth lay in compliance and silence. Love, if it came at all, was meant to be arranged, approved, and beneficial. Yet Juliet possessed a mind sharper than what Therona's anticipated. She listened more than she spoke. She questioned internally what she was forbidden to ask aloud. While she had never seen blood spilled in the streets, she felt the weight of the feud in subtler ways, in tense dinners, in whispered warnings, in the fear that accompanied public gatherings. The city shaped Romeo into impulse and Juliet into restraint, yet both were bound by the same invisible chain. The city of Therona, did not teach its youth how to think, it taught them how to react. The feud thrived on reaction. An insult demanded a response. A wound demanded revenge. There was no space for pause, no room for reflection. Time moved quickly in Therona, and those who hesitated were left behind, or crushed. Older generations spoke of honor as if it were sacred, yet their version of honor required constant defense. Peace was seen as surrender. Forgiveness was weakness. To let an insult pass unanswered was to invite disgrace. Thus the grudge sustained itself, feeding on fear and pride. The Prince’s warnings echoed through the city like distant thunder, heard, acknowledged, and ignored. His authority was real, but it was no match for tradition. Laws could punish violence, but they could not erase hatred. Theronians obeyed the Prince when convenient and defied him when emotion demanded otherwise. Nightfall didn’t gave any comfort. Instead, as darkness fell, old grudges seemed to grow stronger. Hidden in the shadows, intentions became murky, and secrets began to multiply. Lovers exchanged soft promises, enemies schemed their revenge, and misunderstandings flourished in the quiet. It was in such darkness that tragedy found its footing. The grudge did not seek specific victims, it consumed whoever stood within reach. Romeo and Juliet were not chosen by fate because of love alone... they were chosen because they were young, emotional, and surrounded by a city that rewarded haste. Therona did not need villains. It only needed momentum. And momentum thaf once begun, could not be stopped. The city held its breath, not out of awareness, but with a sense of inevitability, waiting for the moment when its deep-seated hatred would demand a highest price. Where in this reimagined story, two lives, Romeo and Juliet would soon answer that demand.