Author's Note: The finale...I cease to exist. Seriously. It's a ghost writing this because MERLIN ABOVE it killed me dead. PM me if you need to talk about it cause I def. need to talk about it. Anyway...I still don't where I'm going with this storyline, but as I write this, I'm sure something will happen...you would think that words would make a plot... who knows. I guess you'll find out when I do! Please PM or review with ideas and suggestions! xoxo - E

P.S. Because I love you guys a lot - I wrote a super long chapter. Hope you like it!

Benvolio

No one was watching. There were no town criers to spread the stories, no adoring mass of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lovebirds. No ambassadors, or princes were standing by to ensure we truly were in love. So why was I standing beneath Rosaline Capulet's window with a handful of pebbles, ready to help her sneak out? This was stupid. I was stupid. Holy shit that kiss, though. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't sleep because poetic phrases about how soft her skin had been against mine kept running through my head. So I hadn't slept. I'd snuck past my uncle and his sister (I refused to call that viper my aunt) and stole a pair of horses out of the stables and made my way to her uncle's home in the middle of the night to take her on... a date? What was this? I didn't know. I just knew I had to see her. I'd stumbled upon something on my way over here. It wasn't that interesting, she'd probably find it a touch morbid, actually, but I thought there was an air of beauty about it and at the very least it was an excuse, something to show her. I figured I could claim it as a rondez vous point for us, a secret meeting spot in the future when we needed to plan. Yeah. That was a good enough excuse. That and I could just claim that I was eccentric, and odd person, and she wouldn't suspect a thing.

.

Damn this was a bad plan.

But I had to see her. I threw the first pebble.

Three more, and the window suddenly opened... as I threw the next stone. It soared into the room, barely missing her head. She dodged it, her eyes following it's path inside before turning around and looking at me from up on that balcony like I was a crazy person.

"Are you trying to kill me to get out of this marriage Benvolio Montague?" She asked indignantely.

"Don't be absurd. Get a cloak. Come on." I gestured to the horses.

"What are you talking about?!"

"I want to show you something. It's a bit chilly. Get a cloak, and come down here."

"Benvolio, it's nearly 2 in the morning."

"Did I steal these horses for nothing, Capulet? Come on, I want to show you something I found."

"What?"

"I said-"

"I'm asking you what you found."

"A place. A secret hideaway."

"And we can't go see it tomorrow because..."

"Because you know as well as I that your uncle has you followed each time you leave the house, as does mine. And if it is to be our secret, emergency meeting spot for when we plot things, no one can know where it is. Come. Down here. Now." She was going to refuse. I knew it. This was stupid. I was stupid.

"Hang on. I'll grab my cloak and then I'll climb down the vines." She said, gesturing behind her. She'd barely disappeared back inside when she ran out onto the balcony once more. "Don't you dare look." I had to bite my lips to keep from grinning. She reappeared moments later, a thick grey cloak covering her nightgown. I decided it wouldn't be best to think about the fact that she hadn't bothered to put on a real dress, but would be accompanying me in her bedclothes. I averted my gaze - with a small amount of difficulty - as she swung herself over the rail on her balcony and began to make her way down the vine. I kept sight of her out of the corner of my eye. Not enough visibility to get a glimpse of anything private, but enough to keep her in the corner of my eye, so if she slipped and fell, I could catch her before she hit the ground. I didn't have any need to worry. She made it down quickly and made her way to my side.

"Come on then. Take me to your secret fort, Montague." How she managed to make me feel like I was about 5 every time we spoke was beyond me.

"It's not a fort," I said petulantly, taking her arm and leading her to the horses I had waiting. "It's practically a palace."

"You found a palace." She said dryly. "A hidden palace. Does the fairy queen live there?"

"Perhaps, you'll have to wait and see." She was struggling to get her slipper clad foot into the stirrup on the horse's saddle, so without stopping to over analyze, I gripped her hips and lifted her atop the chestnut mare. Her hands steadied herself from where they rested on my shoulders as I lifted her and I was surprised at how graceful the movement as a whole had been. Between the pair of us, we were more clumsy than elegantly graceful and poetic movement. We were more likely to drop one another or trip the other one wholly on accident, and-

"How far away is the fairy queen's castle?"

"I said practically a castle." I reminded her as I swung upon my own steed, a dapple grey gelding named Peach. (I hadn't named him.) "It's more a castle than Capulet's place, but less so than your beloved Prince's." She scoffed at that.

"He's not my anything." She grumbled. "Come on. Let's go running." I smiled, remembering her penchant for the flight like feeling of galloping away. I urged Peach on and she followed quickly on my heels. I heard a small giggle from her as we ran, and I couldn't help but smile. She followed me into the night and I made my way down the twists and turns out into the edge of town, where the abandoned estate lay in ruin, vines creeping into the windows and around the doors. As I made the last turn, towards what once would have been the drive, I noticed that Rosaline was no longer chasing me down, but had slowed to a halting trot. I pulled Peach back and circled around her, coming up on her right flank.

"What is it, too scary at night time?" I teased. She didn't smile. Her eyes were staring in awe, but the rest of her face was blank, in shock. "Rosaline?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I should have realized where you were taking me." She said quietly. Then her face grew hard, and angered and in an instant she turned on me with a fire in her eyes and reached out to grab my arm. "Did you know?! Do you know what this place is to me? Is that why you've brought me here, to mock me?"

"Rosaline, what are you talking about? I just found this place this morning and something about it reminded me of you. I thought it could be our hideout, if we ever needed one, or a place to meet if something went wrong. I don't have a clue what you're talking about!" She stared into my eyes for a moment until she decided she could believe me.

"Come on then. Let me show you something." She trotted up to the front door, and swung off her mount, making her way up to the door. She slid it open with no great difficultly and stepped inside, turning right. It was dark, very, very dark inside. I could hardly see a thing.

"Rosaline?" I asked. She'd disappeared into the black before me. The moon lit up the rooms to the left of the door, but the corridor she was leading me down had no windows and the light had left us.

"I'm here." Her voice said softly, her hand reaching out to take mine. Hand in hand, she led me, and blind as I was, I trusted her lead and followed. Soon, a small prick of light shone in through a window or a crack, or something up ahead and we made our way towards it. When we reached that point, she reached up onto the wall, and grabbed a torch.

"I don't suppose you have any oil on you?" She asked. I shook my head.

"No, Capulet, I didn't stop to fetch oil."

"Hand on then." I could barely see her bending over, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown. I heard a short ripping sound, and suddenly she was wrapping a length of white cloth - presumably her nightgown - around the torch. When she was finished, she snapped and a spark appeared. Wait. No. That couldn't be right. She did it again, and this time the spark caught onto the white fabric and the space around us was alight with a soft yellow glow.

"How did you-" She held up two bits of metal in her hand.

"A maid's best friend. Why rub wood to start a fire when you have flint that can make a spark in an instant?" She tucked the metal pieces into the pocket of her cloak. She turned to the opposite wall and walked towards it, pulling a large cloth off a painting on the wall. "Look." She said, holding the torch up to illuminate the art work. It was a family, a father with two daughters, a mother smiling down at them like nothing could ever harm them when she was there. It was a lovely family. The elder daughter caught my eye. She had a familiar spark in her eye, mischievousness and righteousness and a hint of something else I couldn't name all at once. I knew that look. I glanced back to Rosaline as she smiled up at the painting.

"This was your home." I realized aloud. She nodded.

"My mother and father raised us here, further out of the city, away from the rest of the Capulets. My father thought his brother and sister-in-law weren't the best influence upon us. Not to mention the feud in general. He thought we should give up hating the Montagues. He thought the feud had gone on long enough and he just wanted peace. So he removed us from it's influence." She turned to me thoughtfully. "It's ironic, a bit, that of all the Capulets, I was raised not to hate the Montagues. And of all the Capulets, I now hate them the most." She reached out with her free hand and touched her father's face. "My father and mother were visiting friends in the city one night. Livia and I were playing with some of the servant's daughters, and they were walking home. They saw some Montagues being attacked in the street, not even by Capulets, just some petty thieves stealing from them. And my father thought if they could stop it, he might begin to build a peace between our families. He stopped the thieves and tried to help a Montague who had fallen up from the ground. The other Montague just saw a Capulet standing over a hurt Montague and he stabbed him through the heart. My mother ran to his side and tried to stop the bleeding but it was too much. Some other Capulets who were nearby got involved. In all the fighting, My mother who was just trying to protect my father's body was stabbed 13 times." There was a shiver in her voice now and I didn't know what I could possibly say. There was no doubting what she said, I had no defense, this was likely exactly what happened. "Livia and one of the Rebecca, the servants younger daughter, had gone to bed, and Catherine, her other daughter and I were board. So we snuck out. We stole a horse and rode all the way to the city, her clinging to me and shrieking, half in fear, half in laughter at the joy of running. We were sneaking around the streets, trying to see who could step out of the shadows for the longest without being noticed. We turned a corner and there they were, running over to the Montagues. Catherine was a few years older than I and had enough sense to know that what was happening wasn't going to be good. She pulled me back behind a barrel, and wouldn't let me run to my parent's side. I saw the whole thing, Montague. And all my father's lessons flew away, I hated you. All of you. From that moment on." She was crying and I desperately wished to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but I knew at this moment, my arms would be less a comfort than a reminder of pain and guilt for her. Befriending a man whose kin slaughtered her parents? That wasn't something that was likely to sit well with heart-strong Rosaline.

"And now the prince has demanded you marry the son of your sworn enemy." I added bitterly. "Rosaline, if he knew how deep it went for you, if he knew that surely he wouldn't... he loves you. A family feud is one thing, but to have seen that family murder your parents in cold blood... he wouldn't-"

"Benvolio." She cut me off. "He knows." That bastard. She shook her head. "This wasn't the point- I didn't mean to... I sort of got off topic there. I just meant to confirm that this used to be my home. And then when my aunt and uncle took us in, the whole place was boarded up. I still sneak out here sometimes, or I used to. It was easier to sneak away when I was a servant and not locked in Juliet's room." She looked at me sadly. "I didn't mean to offend you. I thought being engaged to you was the worst thing that could have happened to me but it wasn't. I found out who truly cares for me and who will stick around when things get hard. And I found a new friend. And I remembered why my father wanted peace between our households. I want to carry out his last wishes, Benvolio. I want peace between Montague and Capulet. And whatever happens... if we succeed, or we do not, if we are forced to marry, or if they kill us... we have to convince our generation to give up this fight. That way, at the very least, no matter what, when our uncles die the feud dies with them." She flushed. "That sounds like I was going to go into a 'kill thine father, we should murder our uncles' tirade. I swear I don't think that. God, I don't seem to have control of my tongue tonight."

"I've been feeling rather without control a lot lately too." I admitted, looking at the reason for my turbulent mind.

"Come on." She said with a sudden smile.

"Where are you taking me, Capulet?"

"I'm a lady, welcoming a courting gentleman into my home." She said with a faux air of teasing pretension. "It would be improper not to give you the tour, good sir."

"Lead away, my lady Capulet." She led me, room by room, telling me stories of her family, of her friends, none of whom she had seen since she'd moved to her uncle's home. She told me of her first crush - on the subject of a painting - a painting which still hung in a parlor. It was of a boy, running across a field towards a girl. It wasn't a common sort of painting, it wasn't at all what one might call fashionable, but there was a simple happiness about it and as she said, that boy clearly loved the girl, and she wanted to wed a man who loved her before all else. She then showed me the painting Livia had fallen for, in their youth, a stoic, dashing commander in the military, in royal garb and uniform, sitting for a portrait with his favored possessions at his side.

"She always loved the fairy tale. The prince falls for the servant girl, two royals dressed as peasants, meet and fall in love and one day realize that they can be together after all. The prince saves the lady locked up in a tower. She's the romantic one." As if Rosaline wasn't romantic in her own way. A much more powerful way. I couldn't see Rosaline waiting around for a prince to save her if she were locked up in some tower. By the time any prince arrived to aid her, she would already have befriended or overpowered her captors, and strode out in broad daylight, making her way into a new life. Any prince who wished for Rosaline would have to sprint to catch up. I laughed to myself and she spun around.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me!" She demanded. "Are you laughing at me, fair sir?" She mocked right back. (And no, it did not escape my notice that she called me handsome, in jest or not, she still associated the phrase 'fair sir' with me... although I was more roguish and brooding than I was the classic 'fair' but still! It was an attractive moniker and she laid it at my feet."

"I was imagining you as a princess in a tower."

"Does the idea of my being locked far away from you appeal to you so well?"

"No. The idea of a prince arriving to save you and finding that you had already saved yourself ages ago does however." She practically beamed.

"You are completely forgiven for laughing and then some." She turned. "Oh! This was my room." She handed me the torch and pushed open the door, quickly scampering in. I paused. It was hardly appropriate for me to enter a lady's bedchamber. It suggested that... and it was a private sanctuary! She would have kept her private things in here! It was like inviting me into her mind! Dear lord, pull yourself together man! It's not her bedchamber anymore, it's an abandoned house! And beyond that, it's hardly more inappropriate to enter a lady's bedchamber than it is to run away with her without chaperone in the middle of the night while she's in a torn nightgown and you are... falling in love with her. I sighed and entered.

I didn't know what I had expected. But this suited her. She took the torch from me once more and set it in it's place upon her wall. It was dim, but it lit the room well enough. She sat on the bed and I joined her, looking around the room. The walls were a pale green, with crown molding wrapping around the ceiling. Vines had made their way into the window, but I could see that a magnificent balcony was situated under the greenery. The window was cracked, but it held together, spanning floor to ceiling. They must open someone, like doors out to the balcony. The bed had been stripped of all it's finery, but the frame was intact and we sat on an older mattress, still in perfectly good shape. The wood of the frame twisted and turned and spun around itself like vines. It was fine craftsmanship and I was slightly surprised that some Capulet or other hand't come back to claim it... or the paintings... or the other furnishings. Now that I thought on it, there was a small fortune worth of furnishings left here, even in their diminished state, they were still worth a great deal.

"Why has your uncle not taken some of these things?" I asked, rather insensitively. "I don't mean to cause offense, but I am aware of his financial straights and I thought perhaps he might have sold these things. Or the manner house. Mightn't that... help somewhat?" She smiled at that.

"He can't. They don't belong to him. When Livia and I turn 21, we each inherit half. She'll be 19 when I turn 21, so we'll have access to half the fortune then, and the rest two years later."

"As women?" I asked, surprised. Her glare instantly told me it was the wrong response. "Calm yourself, you know damn well I don't care about any of that, but it would be very difficult to legally will away an entire estate, let alone it's contents to women. Unmarried, underage women at that."

"My father knew a very good lawyer. Difficult, yes, but he didn't want his fortune to entice any of his relatives who weren't doing as well, financially that is. You know as well as I that Capulets are not all in possession of a high moral code. He wished to provide for us, to ensure none of our family could take advantage of us. Of course they didn't imagine they would both be gone before I turned 21. Livia and I thought if we could avoid marriage until I was 21, I could pay both our bride prices to my uncle, and we would be free of them, and we could live here, as long as we liked, and marry for love. When Uncle demanded I marry, I intended for a nunnery. The moment I turned 21, I would have to give my inheritance away, but I could give it to Livia, and she could inherit the lot, pay her own bride price, and be free." She shrugged. It wouldn't have worked. If I had run off, my uncle simply would have offered Livia up instead." I tried to imagine that, marrying Livia. Being engaged to Livia. Going on these sort of adventures with her. I couldn't picture it. Her face kept turning into Rosaline in my head.

"I've just realized, I don't actually know how old you are."

"19." She smiled ruefully. "But don't think you're about to be rich in 2 years, Benvolio Montague. My father's will is very specific. Livia and I control our own money, even after marriage."

"It may behoove you to know, Rosaline Capulet, that I am obnoxiously wealthy in my own right. And I'm a man so I have access to my inheritance whenever I damn well want. I have no need of your money or your fancy manner." I paused, glancing around. "Although I do admit it is prettier than mine. And it comes with the added attraction of not also being my uncle's home." She laughed at that. I loved that I could make her laugh. She lay back on the bed, her eyes tracing the lines of the peeling paint upon the ceiling. It was clearly an action she'd enacted often in the past. I leaned back too, laying next to her, looking at the patterns that had clearly been bright and vibrant one day, not too far in the past. As I took in the ceiling, I thought about what she'd said. "It is extraordinary though. The amount of work your father put in to care for you, as you had no brothers. If I had only daughters, I'd like to do something similar."

"You would?" She asked, curiously. She had pulled herself up a bit, reclining still, but resting on her elbows, looking at me intently.

"Yes. I don't like the idea of any of my family being left in control of our children when the prince kills me in a great fit of jealousy. I give it a year, two tops before His Highness finds some excuse." She laughed again.

"He'll do no such thing, for Isabella and I will blackmail him out of it. Between the two of us we know too many embarrassing stories about him. Besides, I'd smuggle our hypothetical children out of the country long before your uncle got his hands on them."

"Good. That's good. I'm glad you're going to try to save my life, and that you have a backup plan for your surefire failure. You could flee to Spain, perhaps? I've friends in Spain who might take pity on you."

"My Spanish is rubbish."

"What good are you, Capulet?"

"I can speak Latin - maybe I'll just go to the Pope and beg refuge."

"Too close. There are Montagues in Rome."

"England?"

"Rains a lot."

"Ugh. I'll just have to save your life then." She replied flopping back down beside me.

"I really would prefer it." We lay in silence once more.

"Benvolio?" She asked after a long while.

"Yes?"

"If we have to go through with this, I'm glad it's with you." She said softly. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, her words warming my stomach and spreading to my fingertips and toes.

"Me too, Capulet." I admitted, knowing that she'd never know how much I truly meant it. "Me too."

A/N: PLEASE review and/or PM me! (I get lonely ya' know!) Thanks for reading!