“That is enough,” the thunder split, and all was silent. A well-honed blade to rupture the mirth. Xolani winced and Jevon immediately returned to their guard, teeth practically bore as Mercutio clasped his scabbard— the threat of a counterstrike as they teased this volcano toward its inevitable eruption. An escalating bushfire threatening to engulf everything, gossiping spectators included, in its wrath.  

“You are coming home with me. Now. I will not accept anything else, you insufferable, intolerant brat. Feel free to indulge your crude fantasies in private if you truly cannot keep your hands to yourself— but I will not allow any further debasement to fall on our reputation. Come,” Xolani instantly shrunk as that large hand shot out like a whip; however, Jevon loyally jumped to the frontlines and caught his wrist in a bruising stranglehold; the red of his undamaged eye a burning inferno; lips peeled back in a draconic snarl.  

“Lay a hand on them if you so dare, Your Grace. Do not presume for a second that I would allow you to waltz away unjudged if you cross that line. Stop trying to gatekeep their life. You don’t have the authority.”  

“Insolent... the Montagues might have taken pity on you, but you are nothing—”  

“Oh, go suck your own dick, you senile old bastard. I will live however I wish,” Xolani articulated with a slower inflection as if they were educating a misbehaving child. “With whomever I wish. I don’t need your fucking permission. You may frown on my “choice of lifestyle” and all those purportedly beneath you like some kind of god on your throne— but you aren’t even worth a quarter of the respect. I am not your damn heir, and I am not your replacement. I’m through with that shit.”  

Mercutio snatched his wrist away. Xolani tentatively circled out in front of Jevon; their expression deadpan. Unafraid. There were too many witnesses, anyway. In front of Jevon at least, he would dare not discipline. He looked positively mortified, enraged— but Mercutio knew better than anyone that there would be irremediable consequences if the primmed and pristine head of the Ministry of Defense outraged and caused a scene like a coddled brat. He flexed his fist. “You’d prioritize this over family,” he remarked and Xolani made a disgusted face. “Your own selfish needs... over Orlando— your brother’s corpse. You disrespect his memory— what he died for.”  

“Delusional idiot. You’re the reason why the bastard offed himself. Couldn’t handle Daddy’s expectations. Besides, he more or less deserved it; he was a carbon copy of you in the worst of ways,” Xolani shrugged impassively, and Mercutio’s stewing fury fulminated; his blood pressure doubtlessly escalating to dangerous heights, which was perhaps hazardous for someone at his age, but if he spontaneously dropped dead of a heart attack, he would be doing the world a favor, honestly. 

“You didn’t even show up at his funeral. You’re an emotionless bastard who has only ever cared about furthering your own legacy. You knocked some helpless soul up to breed little Mercutios that you could mold to your whims— desperately trying to perpetuate the tainted lie that is your legacy before it falls into obscurity.” 

“Keep mouthing off like that, Benvolio. See what happens,” Mercutio’s poorly curated coolness fractured; he growled. Jevon readied himself to leap back into the fray if necessary. 

“No, maybe what you need is a good reality check. When dear Orlando took this eye of mine as compensation, you didn’t bat a fucking lash. When he slit his own throat, you only mourned the fact that you would be heirless after I promptly got the fuck out of there, and thank the gods I did! You’ve only gotten more delusional over the years. Age hasn’t been good to you, has it? I mean, you still see me as a dead man,” Xolani burst into a peal of explosive, mocking laughter as they palmed their eyepatch; however, there was a tinge of undeniable bitterness to it, and perhaps a smattering of self-appointed resentment, too. “Two birds with one stone! You sent both of your sons to an early grave, and you’re too full of yourself to see the root of the problem... which is you, of course, my dear! I forgot that I have to spell these things out for you because you’re too fucking dumb to get a hint.”  

“Silence! You… you ignorant child!”  

“Nope, I’m not done! You want me to rejoin the family? Be your pretty little bargaining chip? I mean, with devastating looks like these, I’m sure thousands of potential bachelorettes would just lap it up, but I have an even better idea,” they clapped their hands together as a wicked if not quietly pained grin spread from ear to ear. 

“Why don’t you go out and dig up Orlando’s bones— ship them off in a fancy little envelope as a peace offering? That, my friend, is a fantastic idea— perhaps one of my best, in fact! I’ll be sending postcards and merry wishes when the big day arrives. Maybe they’ll even pump out a royal baby for you or several? That should sufficiently tie you over until you finally croak,” they sneered, fists balling up. “You greedy old fuck!”  

His delicate honor was injured. A good knight should always rush to defend it. Mercutio reached for his greatsword but halted when he took notice of the accumulated crowd. He was mocked and stomped into the earth verbally already, and he must have realized that it would be easy to cut his losses before his frangible renown was sullied any further. He passed a look of pure, undiluted hatred between his scorned disciple and an impossibly calm Jevon, huffed poignantly, and released the hilt, withdrawing and disappearing into the rabble with a pointed flourish of his cape.  

“Good,” Jevon called out to him, hoping that his naturally deep voice carried above the festive din. “Hasten back to whatever filthy gutter you crawled out of, you rat.”  

“Goodness... laying it on a bit thick, are we, my dear?” Xolani still seemed a bit ruffled from their not-so-surprise encounter with their whilom liege, exhaling a long-held breath as they settled a hand on their chest, recuperating. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be so... authoritative, Jevon. I’ll have to pocket that little pearl of information for later,” they displaced the lingering trepidation from their face and repainted a flippant smile, leaning their elbow against his bicep.

 “... You do have my thanks, though. You... did me quite the kindness back there. I knew he was invited tonight, and truth be told, I was getting a little tired of being paranoid in the comfort of my own home, so... I thought it would be best to face him directly. The perfect layout for a duel, right? He can’t talk back or else he’ll drag too much unneeded attention toward himself... but having you here gave me the push I sorely needed to properly defy him to his face. Oh, and five stars for your performance: I really thought he was going to have a stroke! This will certainly make him think twice about bothering me again... I hope.”  

“I wouldn’t have minded helping you, I just... wish you would’ve told me in advance, that’s all.”  

“Oh, but what sort of master coercer would I be if I laid out all my cards outright, huh?” Xolani threw him a trademark wink— and Jevon fondly shook his head as he automatically reached forward to resecure a fallen strand behind the security of their ear. It could have gone plenty worse, he supposed. “... I really do owe you one though, love. Sweets simply aren’t enough; if you need anything, and I mean anything, just ask me and I’ll fetch it in a heartbeat: through hell or high water, as you so eloquently put it.”  

“After that, I think all I’d really like is to go home already.” 

“Oh, come now. I don’t want all these pearls to go to waste. Your outfit was quite expensive; you know,” Xolani released his arm to step back and extend a hand instead, and once Jevon noted the kickstarting cadence of the orchestra, he realized that it was an invitation. “A single dance— then I’ll stop hounding you; I promise.” 

“Won’t that fan the flames, though?” 

“Oh, they’ll get over this drama in about a week or so. That’s how it always is in these noble circles,” they reassured. “This is merely a platonic affair between a pair of very good friends; nothing more than that. Trust me— you aren’t exactly my type.” 

“You’re breaking my heart here, Xolani.”  

“You’ll get over it, I’m sure.” 

Jevon accepted the offering without much of a fight, ultimately. He lifted their knuckles to place a kiss and a smile on the back of their lace glove like the gentleman he would like himself to be. 

“... Well, I hope you can make do with me for the time being, then.”