"You dare draw your sword at me?" Was heard loud and clear over the crowd streets of Verona. The towns people swiped to the sides and up into the rooftops and windows to watch as the fight unfolded. None had in the slightest ability to be shock to see four servants, two of each from different households, fighting with such vigor. The Capulets and the Montagues, families torn by hate.

"Stop you idiots! Do you understand your doing?" A fifth entered the scene, agony on his face as he came between them. The two Montagues pulled down their swords, but Capulet's kept drawn, faces like stone.

"Sorry Master Benvolio." A servant by the name of Abraham said darkly in his unforgiving tone. Both servants took steps back behind their master.

"Only scum would even admit to speaking kind words to a Montague!" Sampson, a Capulet servant, spit. "We do not with draw our swords." Benvolio's eyebrows crunched, his chance of peace gone as he pulled his sword.

"Little Benvolio has drawn his rapier. Does he wish to look upon his death?" A new voice entered the argument, Montague's cringing at the sound. Tybalt, already armed, paced almost like to hear his own boots click against the pavement. His devilish smile was enough to make the sunny day seem overcast.

"I do but keep the peace. Just let my men be." Only Benvolio seemed to be the only one not backing away now, even The Capulet servants feared their Master.

"What? Drawn but talk of peace? I hate the word. Just like I hate Montague's, hell, and you!" And with that Tybalt's rapier flew at Benvolio, giving him only but a second to block it. The crowds cheered as they placed bets.

"Tybalt's had ages pass by without a good opponent. Look's like Benny there might add up to him." An old man bearing but few teeth grinned.

"You fool. No one can take down Tybalt. That scrawny little boy can hardly ever take him on." Another much younger man growled as he slapped down his money.

"I just hope Benvolio doesn't end up badly. Such a sweet kind hearted boy." The wife of the old man spoke, worry on her tongue.

"With great assets too." A younger girl added with a giggle as she covered her mouth. By the word of the fight, the Lord's Montague and Capulet with their Ladies entered scene, crippled and broken.

"My word, their both trying to fight aren't they?" The commoners laughed as both Lords ordered their wives to throw them their rapiers. Laughter roared even more when their wives denied them and cursed them for thinking that they would so at their age. But with one breath, the fight froze as the mighty Prince Escalus voice roared over them.

"You rebel against your Prince, your soon to be King? Is your wish for blood so severely, that you would defy me so? Montague and Capulet, oh do you puzzle me so. Is peace between you two families not worth the price of your want for each others blood. From this day forth, your want for blood will be paid with your swift death. Any blood lust that springs from your families hate will be punished. Capulet shall speak with me now, Montague later, and maybe this madness may stop." All swords at this time had dropped as the Prince's words sunk into their minds. Benvolio breathed a breath of relief as the Capulet's and servants left with their scowls craved into their faces. The streets resumed their daily lives.

"Benvolio, was it you that started the fight?" His old uncle Montague rested his hand on his shoulder.

"No, it was of Capulet servant's doing." Benvolio sighed as he fluttered his caramel brown eyes. He turned to face the Lord, who's old face filled with worry as he shook his head.

"Romeo, my son and your friend, have you looked upon him today?" Lady Montague inquired, quickly changing the subject.

"No, I have not, nor have I for awhile. It's looks almost as if he was morning a loss of a child, the way he goes around. Not to speak, to sleep, or to eat. He denies my presence or the presence of anyone else it seems." Worry for his friend and cousin spiked him. Even dear Mercutio could not seem to speak any words into him.

"He mopes in his room all but night, and draws his curtains. A servant may not enter or offer any help to that boy. I wish I knew but of his aliment." Montague spoke. "I must go and wait in the palace hall for the great Prince now, but, if you shall see my son, please cure him of his sorrow."

Benvolio sat down, his face in his hands on the side of a bridge, thinking about how much had happened in the day when the sun had only but reached its high point. The fight with Tybalt, the warning from the Prince, his cousin's depression, but he also thought about Mercutio. A best friend from birth, he had always been quick too fight. Hard headed and arrogant, he would probably ignore the Prince's warning without a thought. Benvolio would not be able to handle if Mercutio marked himself with death. But then again, neither would be Mercutio's several courtships.

"Well, look who I found mopping behind the church?" Like as if the Queen had called his name, there stood smiling handsome Mercutio ,Romeo squirming under arm.