A/N: Thanks to MirangoAndAthalii, tha lil' angel, Angel of Dreams, TotalAnimeGirl, and Little Cherry Blossom Angel for reviewing. And to answer tha lil' angel's question, yes, Cagalli is a girl. Looking back, I guess I kinda didn't explain that at all. She is in the same role as the Prince in the original Rom and Jul, just like Miriallia is in the same role as Juliet, but she isn't really Juliet. Does that make any sense?

On another note, if you would flip back to the Prologue, you will find that the role of Mercutio has been changed. At first I had it as Yzak, but I was thinking about it, and he really doesn't fit into that role at all. So I was thinking, and then it hit me…Rusty! I was flipping through my Gundam Seed graphic novels and I saw him near the beginning and at first I was like "Who is that?" and then I was like "Oh yeah, Rusty, he exists." So now Rusty is Mercutio, because I say so and I can do that. Muahahahaha, muhahahaha, MUHAHAHAHA…and now back to the story.

Chapter Two: Enter the Lovers

Mwu la Flaga leaned against the worn sill of an open window looking out over the vast courtyard of his estate. He heaved a heavy sigh and spoke in a low voice.

"I suppose Princess Cagalli is right," he said, looking over his shoulder to face the large room's other occupant, a young man named Tolle who was sitting on the red couch, "Men such as myself and Kira Yamato are far to old to be behaving in such a manner. I only want to live out the rest of my life in peace, and make sure that my family will survive without me. Perhaps the time has come to let the cards lie where they fall."

"I couldn't agree with you more, sir," replied Tolle, standing up, "This fighting will get us nowhere. But sir, if I could just redirect your attention to the reason for my visit…?"

Mwu sighed and turned to face Tolle. "She is still too young."

"But sir," said Tolle, "Tonight she turns fifteen. There are girls younger than her who are already mothers."

"And I would not have any of them to be my daughter," Mwu answered gruffly, "She is my only child who is not buried. The last thing I want to do is send her out of my house before her time. Give her two more years, Tolle, she will be ready then. In the mean time," Mwu said, slinging an arm around Tolle's shoulder and steering him out into the wide corridor, "Try to bring her over to your side, see if she will love you, or at least accept you."

"Yes, sir!" Tolle chirped.

"Now then," Said Mwu, opening the front door, "Go home and get ready for the ball!"

"Remind me again why I am doing this," Dearka growled under his breath to Nicol. The sun had nearly set, and in the east stars were beginning to peak out. Dearka, Nicol, Yzak, and ten other male Coordinator teens were making their way through the back streets of Venanatia. They were on their way to la Flaga's ball, held in honour of his daughter's birthday. Luckily for the party crashers, it was a costume ball. Dearka was wearing all red and had the mask of a hideous devil, flames coming out of the mouth and nostrils; Nicol had decided to go as a dark green cat, and Yzak (who had not wanted to wear a costume at all, but was persuaded when Dearka pointed out that he would be shot if he didn't) was wearing all black with a long cape that billowed in the breeze. Rusty was late, as usual, most likely due to a meeting with his lover known to the rest of the world as crack.

"You are doing this," said Nicol, pushing his mask up to sit on top of his head, "so that you can speak to your beloved Rosalind." Nicol laughed as Dearka roughly shoved him to the side.

"Don't talk so loud," Dearka hissed, pulling up his mask as well, "Some one will hear you."

Two orange clad arms came out of the darkness, one wrapping around Nicol's neck, the other snaking around Dearka's. Both teens jumped.

"Jesus, Rusty," Dearka muttered.

Rusty was wearing an incredibly tight orange spandex jumpsuit. Dangling out of one hand was a mask with a long face and some kind of fringe coming out of the top.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" asked Dearka in a snide way.

Rusty was nearly bouncing. He let go of his friends' necks and bounded a few steps ahead, then turned to face them, walking backwards. "I'm a horse," he declared.

"A horse?" asked Yzak, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," said Rusty, a suggestive grin on his face, "I'm gonna see if any young ladies at the ball want to go for a ride."

Nicol snorted. "Like any of them would have you."

"You'd be surprised, my dear cat," replied Rusty, "You should give it a whirl sometime. There is more to this world than you little piano."

"This is a stupid idea," Dearka changed the subject, crossing his arms, "What is the point in going to la Flaga's little ball?"

"What's the matter, Deark," Rusty asked sarcastically, "got you're panties in a twist?"

"He's just cranky 'cause he's in love," Nicol said loudly. Nicol's head was instantly acquainted with Dearka's hand.

"Really," Rusty smirked, "Well then, Dearka, this party is just the thing you need. You won't have to worry about bumping into her where we are going,"

"Oh, yes he will!" exclaimed Nicol. Dearka slapped the back of his head again.

Rusty let out a loud peal of laughter. "A Natural, eh? Who is it?"

"Rosalind," Nicol squeaked, ducking that time.

"Alright, boys," exclaimed Rusty, "masks on. We're here."

They had missed the feast, but the Coordinators had not intended to catch it. The first chords of music had started just as the band of masked youths burst through the doors. Within the first fifteen minutes, Rusty had disappeared, along with a rather scantily clad Natural. Nicol had danced his was through several partners while Yzak was scowling in a corner.

Dearka was leaning against the refreshment table, a glass clutched loosely in his hand, his mask raised just a little so that he could drink. His eyes drifted lazily across the ballroom, and the violet orbs snagged on the figure of a brown haired girl in a white strapless floor-length gown. A thousand tiny stars sparkled on the full, gauzy skirt that floated just above the gown and across the tight bodice. Sewn onto the back of the dress was a set of silver wings covered in glitter, and a matching half-mask was perched on top of her light brown hair. She wasn't wearing any make-up, and Dearka could tell that she definitely didn't need any. She was smiling dutifully at a young man. He held out his hand, and the girl put her gloved one in it. The male seemed to stumble to the dance floor (most likely surprised by his good fortune), and the girl seemed to glide across the polished floor.

Dearka's breath was caught in his throat. He felt as though he was bound and rooted to the spot on which he stood, paralyzed by an overwhelming feeling that started somewhere in his chest and flooded throughout his entire being. He had never felt anything like it before. As he stared into the angel's blue eyes as she danced, he couldn't help but feel grateful that most of his face was covered by a mask; he could feel the blood rising in his face.

A slow song started to play, giving Dearka an idea. He set down his glass and started out onto the dance floor. He tried to discreetly push his way through dancing couples, passing Nicol on the way, who just stared blankly at his friend. After an eternity (or five seconds to everyone else in the room), Dearka reached the angel and the awkward youth. He tapped the male on the shoulder and said roguishly, "Mind if I cut in?"

The youth looked slightly taken aback through his mask. He spluttered for a second, looked at the girl (who cocked her head to the side expectantly), and then nodded and moved away. Dearka slid into the vacant spot and snaked his arms around the angel's waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They danced quietly for while, Dearka trying to find an appropriate place for him to look, and the girl glancing up at him through her sparkling half-mask, a puzzled look in her bright blue eyes. She was trying to figure out who the young man was, but didn't want to ask him outright, figuring that he was some kind of distant cousin and would get offended if she didn't remember him.

Finally the girl worked up her courage and said, "I don't recall seeing you at dinner."

Dearka chanced a look into her eyes and answered, "I like to be fashionably late."

The girl laughed. That laugh, it sounded like music, music that seemed to wake some strange, soft, gentle being in the bottom of Dearka's soul that he barely knew was there. The two dancers didn't dare tear their eyes away from each other.

Not too far away stood the brooding figure of Sai Argyle. He had been watching the couple, not daring to believe his eyes at first. But there was no mistaking it. His cousin was dancing with a Coordinator. Did she not know? How couldn't she, though, she was about an inch away from him, after all. Anger rose in Sai's throat, ready to erupt. He turned on his heel and strode purposefully over to Mwu.

"Uncle," Sai hissed in his ear, "there are enemies here."

"Enemies?" Mwu asked, a little confused.

"Coordinators," Sai spat the word like venom. He pushed back the left side of his jacket, revealing a gun in his waistband. "I'll take care of them."

"No," Mwu said in a voice that was not his own, "We are no longer to make war on the Coordinators."

Sai was shocked. "But…Uncle…!"

"You will do nothing of the sort in my house!" Mwu exclaimed, causing his nephew to jump. Sai regained his composure and gritted his teeth before stalking off.

Mwu's eyes swept across the dance floor. He could easily pick out at least nine Coordinators with their colourful hair, and about five that could have been. Mwu hummed under his breath and looked over at his wife, who was chatting animatedly with some of her friends. If he had kept looking he would have seen a demon life up his mask slightly and an angel lightly press her lips against his.