⬥⬥⬥

“I still can’t believe you are here,” Romana says dreamily.

“Would you like me to pinch you?” 

“Don’t you dare!” she chuckles, slapping his hand away.

“How cruel!” Benvolio jokingly cradles his hand. “Would you treat Count Paris this way?”

Romana’s gaze drops with a sigh.

“Forgive me, my love,” he says quickly. “I only meant it in jest.”

“I know. It is not you I am upset with.” She turns her gaze to the sky. “It is myself.”

“To be fair, there is little you can do in the matter.”

“And why is that?” she says sharply. “Shouldn’t I get to choose who I give my hand to? Shouldn’t my dreams and desires matter?”

“They do.” Benvolio pulls her gently to him. “They matter to me.”

“But you’re not my father,” Romana says. She smiles sadly. “Thank heavens.”

“True. Otherwise this would be—”

“Don’t say it. The image is bad enough as it is.”

They both chuckle, holding each other close.

“I miss you when you’re gone,” Romana whispers. “And though I savor the letters and these stolen moments with you, I’m afraid they may be coming to an end soon.”

Benvolio frowns.

“Lord Capulet is pushing for your union with Paris,” he says solemnly.

She nods.

“Paris made mention of a spring wedding tonight,” she says. “I can only imagine how far along they are in discussions.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“But when?” She searches his eyes pleadingly. “Did you not hear me when I said we’re running out of time? Time is a luxury and we don’t have it.” She grabs onto his hands tightly. “Let us run away.”

“Romana,” Benvolio sighs.

“Far away,” she continues, “where no one knows us as Romana Capulet and Benvolio Montague. Where we can make our own names and live our own lives.”

“Romana.”

“Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do,” he says tenderly. He holds her face in his hands. “I want nothing more than to have you by my side always.”

“Then—”

“But we can’t just run. It wouldn’t do us any good.”

Tears spring to Romana’s eyes and she turns away. Before she can leave, Benvolio holds her close from behind.

“Just be patient, my love. I promise, we’ll get to live our lives together.”

Romana places her hands on his arms, holding them in place.

“For both our sakes,” she says thickly, “I hope you’re right.”

⬥⬥⬥

Chimere steals glances at the stranger as she tends to the cuts on his hands. Though she can’t see his face behind his silver mask, she can feel her heart racing at their closeness. Already her mind is running with wild fantasies of clandestine meetings and stolen kisses. Her cheeks heat and she forces herself to focus on the task of treating his hand.

“There,” she says, looking over her work. “This should hold for the rest of the party, but I’d advise you have a doctor take a look at it.”

The stranger smiles.

“You are too kind, truly. I can’t thank you enough.”

Chimere holds her breath as he kisses the back of her hand.

“It-it was nothing, sir.”

“If you don’t mind,” he says, holding her hand tightly, “would you join me for that dance now?”

“But are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather ask another lady? One who hasn’t so rudely bumped into you?”

His laugh thrills her heart.

“To be honest, I only have eyes for you, my dear. After all, I don’t believe Romana ever mentioned you having such lovely brown eyes.”

She gasps. Her eyes strain to see past the mask to the face underneath.

“Are you,” she says hesitantly, “Julius Montague?”

The stranger removes his mask. Another gasp escapes her, her hands a second too slow to hold it in. Julius bows, his golden hair catching the candle light.

“Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner, Chimere, but I was dying to get to know you before you knew me.” He smiles sadly. “Alass, I seem to have foiled my own plan.”

“P-please don’t bow to me, sir–milord! Rather it is I who—”

“And this is why I was hoping to remain hidden a little longer,” Julius says with a chuckle. He fixes his mask back in place and holds out his hand. “Now, may I have this dance, milady? If it isn’t too much to ask.”

Chimere’s heart races as she stares at his outstretched hand. Could this be the romance she had been waiting for? Was Julius Montague the one who would sweep her off her feet? 

She takes a deep breath and places her hand in his. More than anything, she wants to find out.

As Julius leads Chimere onto the dance floor, he catches a glimpse of Romana sneaking away from the balcony. His eyes never leave her as she rejoins Paris’ side. Then he spots Benvolio, making his way towards Lord and Lady Montague who welcome him with open arms. He tightens his hold on Chimere’s hand as his jaw clenches. 

  After their dance, Julius bids Chimere farewell. Without bothering to inform the Lord and Lady of his departure, he returns to the manor first, his mood dark and twisted. A maid, startled by his sudden appearance, greets him as he walks through the doors.

“Welcome home, Lord Julius,” she says quickly with a bow. “We were not informed you would be returning so soon.”

He eyes her for a moment before finding a smile.

“Forgive me, but I wasn’t feeling quite well.”

“Oh,” she says, panic on her face, “no, please do not apologize, milord. Rather it is our fault for not having our work done in time. Please, if you would just wait in the sitting room, I’ll make sure your room is ready right away.”

“Thank you, and if you could,” Julius calls as she hurries away, “would you bring me a glass of water?”

While the maid goes to fetch the water, Julius makes his way to the sitting room and waits by the door out of sight. He catches her by surprise when she steps through the door, choking her from behind until she loses consciousness. He ties her to a chair, and heads to his room, careful not to draw attention. He returns after retrieving his dagger to find the maid awake and confused. Terror enters her eyes as he locks the door.

“M-milord?” she whimpers, struggling against her restraints. “W-what is—”

He covers her mouth with one hand, while he stabs her in the thigh with the other. Her scream vibrates on his skin. He pictures Romana and Benvolio, locked in a lovers embrace, and stabs again.

“How dare she betray me! Me!”

He slices her arms and legs, drags the blade through her stomach and shoulders. He cuts into her flesh as though he were painting, all the while only seeing the ones who wronged him.

They would be punished for this. He’d make sure of it.