Welcome to what I believed is the sixth instalment of the Child Swap series! This time, we are tackling Much Ado About Nothing, along with incorporating elements and storylines from Richard III, one of Shakespeare's history plays. We'll be meeting some new OCs, and carrying on some previous storylines from the previous instalment, Family Ties. Sorry for the long wait, I have been very busy the past year with university work and just life in general.

I'd also just like to mention that although Richard and his family were actually genuine historical people, the rest of the Shakespearean cast are not. Preference is given to Shakespearean characters who are stated to be the ruler of the land rather than the actual historical ruler in the same time period as Richard, which is why Don Pedro is the Prince of Aragon, and not John II. Don Pedro also explains that the actual rulers of the period are his cousins, so that it still makes sense for the other historical characters to exist, as they were all related in some way or another!

I also need to give a warning here - there will also be a side story male-male romance in this story. If you feel uncomfortable with same-sex relationships, then this is not the story for you. Go and read some classic R&J!

A special thanks goes to Moon Lantern, who helped me out with the storylines borrowed from Richard III, and who also has his own tribute character. Keep an eye out for him!

Another special thanks goes to RichardIII1955, for letting me bombard you with scenes and giving me great feedback, as always!

And last but certainly not least, a special thanks goes out to Cornadopia. Thank you, as always, for letting Allegra join the cast! The middle section of this chapter is dedicated to you, and I hope you like the mischief and adventures she gets up to in this story!

Lastly, I'd like to thank all the wonderful reviewers who have been with me every step of the way, plus some newcomers. You rock!

September, 1997
Zaragoza, Aragon, Spain

The hot Spanish sun beat down on the city of Zaragoza. In the home of the Duartes, every window and door was flung open, and every fan was beating as fast as it could. The ice in the drinks disappeared within seconds, and no one had an appetite for the refreshments scattered around.

Prince Don Pedro stood watching the old grandfather clock tick in the hallway. It was like a death sentence, counting down the minutes until she left. He wanted this leaving party to be over, so he could go home and punch his pillow in his rage, yet he never wanted it to end. Because when the party ended, he'd have to say goodbye to the most intelligent, hilarious, opinionated and politically savvy girl he'd ever met.

Why would she want to leave Zaragoza? She'd lived and attended school here since she was eleven. All her friends were here, and her father's family. Why break those links to go and live in an Italian city state torn apart by feuding noble families?

"It will be an amazing experience for you," Pedro overhead one of her aunts say.

"I know, I simply can't wait to be back in Verona. Sometimes I worry that my Italian has grown a little rusty."

"You are a clever girl, you'll be speaking your mother's language fluently within your first week," her mother laughed.

"But don't forget to visit," added her father.

"Of course not!"

But Pedro knew she would. She would get busy, get stuck in some business or another, and she wasn't the sort of girl who looked back on things.

He wandered from room to room, where he was greeted by various classmates. They had all gathered to the party to say farewell to her. They were all disappearing off to universities across Aragon, across Spain, but she was the only one to leave the country completely.

Finally, Pedro found himself in a back room with her youngest sister, Santana, as she cooled down in front of an electric fan, watching the telly. Santana was arguably the prettiest of the Duarte girls, with bold dark eyes, a sweet smile, dimples, and dark curled ringlets.

"I'm so pleased for her," she chattered eagerly, "When I study to become a doctor, I'm going to go to university in Verona too. I miss Italy"

"You'll be an excellent doctor," said Pedro kindly.

"Thank you, your grace!"

"You don't have to call me that," Pedro dismissed, "It's not a formal occasion"

"Oh. Elvira said we were supposed to."

"Elvira does not know me as well as your eldest sister," explained Pedro, "Will you miss her?"

"Of course," said Santana, "But I can phone her, and she can come and visit at Christmas. Will you visit her then too?"

"I hope so."

'She won't come home, and you should know this better than me.'

Pedro left Santana to the television, and walked back to the crowd of classmates.

'You are a prince, Pedro, and there will be others. She is not the only woman in the world. She's not highborn enough for you, anyway. You will meet other women, and you will marry and create a powerful alliance and produce an heir for Aragon.'

The evening had grown late, and the adults soon retired to allow the young people to enjoy their evening in each other's company. The evening cooled, and soon a breeze blew through each end of the house. Pedro helped himself to wine, hoping to distil the gnawing pain inside of him.

'She might not be highborn enough to be your wife, but she's the very definition of how a princess should be. Dignified, intelligent, calm under pressure, a shrewd politician. Why could she not at least stay in Zaragoza, and work for me instead? Aragon was bigger than Verona, surely it would be more of a challenge, and didn't she like a challenge?'

Finally, he stood alone on the veranda, gazing out over Zaragoza. Pedro wanted to be a good prince, and he knew he had a duty to his people above all, but couldn't he just use his power to make himself happy for once?

"Aren't you enjoying yourself, your grace?" asked that familiar smooth voice. She had a low voice, for a woman, but it was calm, and steady, and everyone stopped to listen and pay attention.

"You don't have to call me that."

"But I will, now that we are no longer classmates."

"Why do you have to leave me?" Pedro demanded, "You know I can offer you opportunities. A job in the government, money, power, whatever you want. A place at the University of Zaragoza. Any university in Aragon. Anyone you want. What has Verona got that I can't give you?"

She did not reply, but the buzzing of the television in the room behind her broke the silence.

"And now we have some breaking news from England. King Henry VI has woken up from his coma!"

Her dark eyes glinted with interest. Pedro's ears also pricked up with interest. 'Pay attention to foreign affairs,' his father once told him, 'You'll be trading with foreign nations, asking for aid, fighting against them, and it is wise to understand the situations they find themselves in, so that you can play it to your best advantage.'

She knew this as well, and had already walked back into the room. Pedro saw footage of Queen Margaret as she waved and smiled at the crowds. Their son, the one year old Prince Edouard, grizzled as his nurse clutched him.

"What a horrible child," she remarked, "He must be almost a year old. I pity England if that's to be the future king."

"It may not be the case," Pedro replied, as footage of the Duke of York stomping disappointedly into his car was also shown.

"It may not," she agreed, "But, we ought to keep our eye on it."

"Oh, I have been," Pedro nodded, "Although to tell the truth, I don't know if I want the Lancasters to stay in power or not."

"Why is that?"

"Some of my family – my heirs if I die childless – are descended from John of Gaunt. They're Lancastrian, and they've got one eye on my love life and the other on my throne. If the Lancasters in England stay in power...then what's to say they wouldn't help their cousins usurp the princedom of Aragon? It would be easy enough – I don't have children, and my only brother's a bastard. One state visit to England, they could pay one of their football hooligans to stab me, make it look like an accident."

"Very true. But you are perfectly capable of handling them. And I'm sure you can marry your cousins off somewhere nice and they won't come bothering you."

"If only it were that simple," Pedro rolled his eyes.

"If only," she said, now seriously, "Speaking of which, I ought to take a look at what's going on in Verona. My home"

"This is your home."

"I have two homes," she replied firmly, "I am Spanish and I am Italian."

She switched the news channel over to an Italian one. Pedro knew some Italian. He knew a couple of languages, actually. His father had told him, 'You should make an effort to learn the language of your fellow princes, so you can converse with them in their mother tongues. That will gain you respect and make communication much simpler.'

"So what makes you think you need to begin your career in Verona so badly if you consider both your homes?"

"Because look," she pointed at the television, "Look at the state of that city. Torn apart by feudal lords, governed by a weak-willed prince, and his government itself isn't much better. Aragon is in good hands. You are a good man, and you will be a good prince. Everything that I want to do, you can do yourself. What would there be here for me but to simply rise through the ranks? In Verona, there is so much to do. There are so many changes that must be made. And what I want to achieve...I want to work for it. I want to earn it on my own, with my mind and my hands. I want a challenge."

"Isn't there anything I can do that might change your might?" Pedro asked.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, charmingly.

'It was now or never...to tell her how he felt...how he needed her by his side, and how only by his side could he face up to this destiny that his forefathers had laid out for him...he needed her charm, her charisma, her mind, her talents, her politically savviness...'

"How about this?" Pedro asked, as he kissed her.

"That is it?" she frowned, "Kisses? You think that kisses are a sufficient reason to throw away my career and my future?"

Come next morning, and she was gone. Everything that might have indicated she lived here had gone too. She'd truly gone, and was on a plane to Verona this instance.

To this day, Amparo has no regrets.

1st April, 2014
Verona, Veneto, Italy

"Next, please."

Amparo reclined back into the folds of Escalus' throne. Covered in purple velvet though it was, her legs and bum had gone numb long ago. She sat as regally as she could, as she was representing Escalus in his absence, but she was very sorely tempted to kick the throne out of the window and wheel up her office chair, with its familiar curves that outlined her frame.

Tancredo Capulet entered.

"Tancredo Capulet," said Amparo, surprised, "How may I help you?"

"I have come here to talk about the bill that you intend to pass," Tancredo narrowed his lips.

"Which one? We have sent several to the Council of Lords to be examined lately," replied Amparo, although, given Tancredo's station in the House of Capulet, she had a very good idea which one.

"The bill that will make all families follow equal primogeniture," Tancredo said, through gritted teeth.

"Oh, of course," Amparo smiled, deciding that being patronizing would be the best way to make him shut his disgusting moustache-covered mouth and piss off back to Paris "I expect, as a Capulet, you must feel very glad that your niece will be securely Lady in her own right, instead of her non-Capulet husband trying to take control, or say, one of her uncles trying to claim the title of Lord by flaunting his status as a male heir. Oh, wait, I just remembered. You are Juliet's uncle."

Tancredo took in a deep breath. He had a look of general nastiness in his eye, "Juliet will be Lady Montague," he said.

Upon the name 'Montague,' there was such a tone of bitterness that Amparo felt as though she had just forced Tancredo to swallow several tablespoons of salt.

"She will," agreed Amparo.

"She doesn't need to be Lady Capulet if she's busy being Lady Montague. It would be...too hard to for a young woman to undertake such a big duty," Tancredo tried to smile, as if he was playing the role of the caring uncle. It didn't fool Amparo. His body language and earlier tone of voice dissuaded her otherwise. And, from past experience and Gabriel's gossiping, she knew exactly what this pompous oaf was like.

"She could appoint a regent for her absences," pointed out Amparo, "She has a sister, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but Hermia is not suitable," Tancredo scowled, "It's too much on a young woman. And anyway, she won't have true Capulet heirs. I have sons, and I know they will have sons too when the time comes. If I am Lord Capulet, our name will carry on."

"And you have a daughter too," Amparo smiled, "Charming young lady. She and Mercutio filled my offices with balloons the other day."

"I disowned her. I'm not responsible for her behaviour in any shape or form!" snapped Tancredo.

"And what a shame that was," sighed Amparo. She sat upright, "You're a stupid man"

"Excuse me?" Tancredo seethed, turning purple.

"I said you were a stupid man," Amparo repeated confidently, "You're so ignorant and blind. In your quest to become Lord Capulet, you've neglected another quest which could have made your own daughter the Princess of Verona."

"She...the what?"

"Yes, stupid man, the Princess of Verona," Amparo settled back against the throne, to rub it in a little more, "She could be sitting where I am sitting right now. Shall I tell you how?"

"Fine!"

"When the Lords finish examining and debating the bill, and I sign it and it is passed, Escalus' daughter will be securely Princess of Verona in her own right when he dies. But, if anything, god forbid, because she is a sweet young girl, were to happen, her heir would be his eldest sibling, so that is...Adelaide, his sister. And Adelaide has two sons. Valentine is the elder, but he has voluntarily ceded any claim he may have had to Verona in order to become the Duke Consort of Milan when he marries Silvia. Which you have told me is what you wish for your niece to do. But, never mind, moving on from that. Adelaide's heir will be her second son. And her second son is Mercutio, who is...oh, yes! He's engaged to your daughter. And she has a son with him, doesn't she? So when my bill is passed, your daughter has a chance of becoming the consort of none other than the prince of this city, and after that, your grandson will rule as prince in his own right," Amparo finished.

Tancredo was speechless, "That...that kid they have together is a bastard!"

"Which brings me onto the next bill that will be passed. All future children of the nobility will be able to inherit in line of birth order, regardless of which side of the sheet they were born on," said Amparo, "So basically, bastards can be heirs and inherit. I think that it will reflect the modern day society that we are living in a little better, don't you?"

"That...no! That means that little brat Hermia will supplant me as my niece's heir! And then her little half-Montague brat!"

"You're not a very nice uncle," remarked Amparo.

"This isn't fair!" howled Tancredo.

"Life is not fair," said Amparo, "Now get out."

Tancredo turned and fled. Amparo sighed, sinking into the uncomfortable chair. Why they were still having this ridiculous argument of whether or not a woman could be Princess of Verona or a Lady in the Council of Lords in her own right, and particularly in this day and age, was beyond her. And why she had to repeat such simplistic basic information to such moronic oafs like Tancredo Capulet day after day was also beyond her. But it came with the job, she supposed. And Amparo liked to think she had done more in a few months than Angelo had done in six years.

Then she sat upright, and called out, "Next, please!"

A servant rushed in, "Amparo, you must come quickly. Mercutio is dangling off the chandelier and singing."

"Not again" Amparo leapt up, grateful to finally be free of the uncomfortable throne, but irritated at having to go and tell Mercutio off. That was one of the things she hated most about being a Deputy. Whenever she was attending to her duties, trying to get some work done, Mercutio would do something stupid, everyone would be distracted, and she had to deal with it. How Angelo had survived six years without killing him, Amparo had no idea. She ran down to the dining hall, and sure enough, Mercutio was dangling off the chandelier. How he even managed to get up there, Amparo once again, had no idea.

"I came in like a wrecking ball! I never hit so hard in love!" sang Mercutio, swinging to and fro, "All I wanted was to break you off! All you ever did was, wreck me! Yeah you, you wreck me!"

"Get down from there at once, Mercutio!" commanded Amparo.

"I led you high up in the sky, and now, you're not coming down. It slowly turned, you let me burn, and now, pressures on the ground. Don't you ever say, I just walked away, I will always want you. I can't live a lie, I will always want you," Mercutio continued to sing, ignoring her.

"Fine. You can stay there," said Amparo, "But when you drop, and you will because you don't exercise regularly and therefore don't have the stamina to stay clinging for much longer, you will drop at least twenty feet, and whilst you will probably survive, you will break your legs and be stuck in a wheelchair for six months. You won't be able to sing and dance and do silly things for at least a year as after being in a wheelchair for that long, you'll still need physiotherapy. Or, if you break more than just your legs, you could be looking at two years of your life without being able to do anything you want to."

Mercutio stopped swinging, and glanced down, "Could...could one of you fetch me a ladder?"

Amparo gave the servants their orders, and soon enough, Mercutio clamoured down off the chandelier.

"What in god's name were you doing?" she asked, when he stood in front of her.

Mercutio stuck his chin out defiantly, "Being Miley Cyrus."

"And why would you want to be her?"

"For funsies."

"You're a very strange person," remarked Amparo.

"I know! It's great!"

Amparo ignored him, "I had a visit from your father-in-law."

Mercutio stopped walking away, "What the bloody hell did he want?"

"He wanted to stop me from passing the bill about equal primogeniture."

"He wants to be the next Lord Capulet, I take it," Mercutio rolled his eyes, "Well, he's welcome to it. Since he's so skilled at being a boring, miserable, stuck-up assho-"

Amparo held up her hand to stop him, "That's enough. I just think I ought to remind you that when the bill is passed, you won't be last in line for the throne anymore. You will be third."

"So?"

"So you ought to watch your back," said Amparo, "People will be after you, and your family, to try and get you out the way"

Mercutio's bright green eyes flashed dangerously, "If they so much as touch Allegra and my baby boy, I will fucking destroy them."

"I don't doubt that," Amparo said, "But your enemies will seek anyway to discredit you. Your unruly mad behaviour is a target. There's half a hundred psychiatrists in Verona who will diagnose you with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder on the orders of your uncle Edmondo or your cousin Paris for a few thousand Euros, just so that they can say you can't cope with the pressures of ruling and crown themselves Prince instead."

"I'm not a schizo!" protested Mercutio, "And why are you talking about this? Uncle Escalus isn't dead! And neither is Sofy!"

"Prince Escalus isn't dead yet," corrected Amparo, "And neither is his daughter. Hopefully they never will be for a very long time. But if something were to happen, you need to be prepared. You have plenty of friends, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"Well, that strengthens your positions, as you have people who will stand up for you and help keep any enemies at bay. By marriage, you'll be allied to the Capulet family. Well, not Tancredo, obviously, but he doesn't count as he won't be Lord Capulet. And by close friendship and being a godparent, you're allied to the Montague family. And if I were you, I'd stop pranking and annoying Tybalt and Rosaline, and you'll have an alliance with the Oftmoro family through Rosaline's desire to be on the good side of the Prince of Verona."

"Actually, they're not just alliances. They're my friends," Mercutio stated sarcastically, "And thanks to your nice little prank on Angelo last year, I haven't been in the good books of the Montagues for a while now."

"I did what I did because I saw it as necessary," said Amparo, "I don't think you've realised all the good that has come of Angelo's resignation. He's reconciled with his son, he has built a good relationship with his grandson, he's come out the closet, whilst here, I am passing bills that he was too scared too, changing the lives of the people in Verona for the better, and helping you to keep yourself and your family safe. The crazy act won't work for much longer, Mercutio. People won't just glance over you as just another cousin to provide for. I know you're not stupid. Stay close to your friends, keep a close eye on your enemies, and don't give anyone an excuse to discredit you."

"You still haven't said how I should get back into the Montague's good books!" Mercutio shouted after her as she left.

Amparo turned, "I said stay close to your friends. Your friends are the younger generation of Montagues. Don't worry about the elders. They'll be dead soon, and they won't help you."

Mercutio stared at her speechlessly.

Amparo smiled, "But...am I right in thinking that today is the 1st April? April Fools Day? Your birthday? And your 21st, too? Well, run along and join your friends out on the lawn, and have a wonderful day."

And with that she strode back to hear the petitioners.

"Is it done?" asked Sofia impatiently.

"Almost," replied Allegra, gently twisting the elastic around the end of the little princess' braid. She, Hermia and Juliet had always practised on each other's hair – well, on Juliet and Allegra's hair mainly, considering Hermia's had always been short, and it was fun to play with a little girl's hair again. Allegra let the blonde plait fall, and then turned Sofia around so she could adjust the stray wisps around her ears that had escaped.

"It's done."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Sofia, wrapping her arms around Allegra's middle. Allegra hugged her back, kissed her forehead, making the little princess giggle, and then held her hand as they walked through the gardens of the palace.

The birthday boy had just arrived, and had made himself comfortable by sitting upside down. His feet rested on the headrest of the chair and his crazy hair brushed the blades of grass. He wore a wide smile, as usual, and his green eyes glinted with mischief. Monty the dog sat slobbering next to him.

"Mercutio, you're giving me vertigo," groaned Benvolio, as he sat watching him. Eliseo chuckled, sitting on Hermia's lap.

"Hey, I'm the one who's birthday it is, you're supposed to give me stuff!"

"Then sit upright, you bloody clown!"

"Mercutio, sit upright!" Adelaide shook her head, "I can't believe I have put up with you for twenty one years now."

"Me neither, mum. We deserve a medal!" Valentine added.

"Happy birthday, Mercutio!" announced Sofia, as Allegra led her over "I have your present!"

"Aww, thanks Sofy!" Mercutio struggled upright, doing a back flip and a forward roll and almost accidently kicking his dog in the process. He staggered to his feet and picked his cousin up, giving her a hug. She squealed, and he set her down.

"Birthday kiss for the birthday boy," announced Allegra, leaping up to reach him. Mercutio grabbed her and held her up as he kissed her. She squealed like Sofia, and then he placed her down, ruffling her blonde hair. Allegra laughed, and reached up to ruffle his.

"Will you please just stop it with the public displays of affection?" groaned Romeo.

"Shut up, hypocrite!" retorted Mercutio, "You're one to lecture me on that topic. Anyway, where's my birthday present?"

"Don't be rude, Mercutio," warned Adelaide.

"I've got a card for you," Paris strode across the lawn and handed Mercutio a card.

"Oh, thanks Cunt Paris, I meant, Count Paris," Mercutio smiled mischievously, "That's what you like everyone to call you, isn't it?"

Hermia and Allegra both snorted. Mercutio started to unravel his card. He held it out.

"That's a card for a two year old," Romeo frowned, "I thought Mercutio was twenty one?"

"Well, he doesn't act it!" swarmed Paris.

Sofia glared at Paris with all the malevolence of an angry seven year old, "You're horrible, you are!"

"Yeah, you tell him Sofy!" Mercutio ruffled his cousin's blonde hair, as Paris ran away.

"He's such a prick. I don't know what Helena sees in him," Allegra rolled her eyes.

"Open the next present," instructed Hermia, "This one's from Gabriel."

"Ugh, let me guess, it's some sort of hair product," said Benvolio.

"It's..." Mercutio trailed off. He held it out, "It is a hair product!"

"What is it?" Allegra reached over and grabbed it, "Frizz Ease, for unruly mad curls?"

"And he sent me a comb too," Mercutio held it up.

They all looked at each other.

"Typical," shrugged Juliet.

"It's the thought that counts," Romeo snorted.

"I'm amazed he didn't send something nasty after what you did to Amparo," Hermia added.

"So maybe I pranked her office...that's not a crime."

"You filled it with balloons," Benvolio shook his head.

"And? I thought perhaps she might have liked it. Balloons are fun!" Mercutio grinned, "Anyway, are they still even together?"

"Who knows? His relationship status on Facebook is 'It's Complicated' and he doesn't say much when I see him and ask him," Hermia replied.

Mercutio rolled his eyes, "Ah well. Gabriel said he'll be over with Alexei and his brothers this afternoon to say hello," he raised his eyebrows, "I'll thank him for this thoughtful and touching gift then."

"I heard he got parental custody over those two," said Benvolio.

"Yeah, he did!" replied Hermia, "Rosaline came round and told us."

"Why, what happened to their parents?" asked Romeo.

"Earthquake," mouthed Juliet.

"Earthquake?" Romeo repeated loudly.

"Ssh!" hissed Adelaide, pointing at Sofia.

"Oh! Oh, of course," Romeo quickly shut his mouth. Young Princess Sofia had lost her mother, Escalus' ex wife, in the quake. With Escalus as her remaining parent, she had come to live with them in the palace. It was about time, anyway, as Escalus' only daughter, and heiress, that she learnt how to be the princess, and ruler, that Verona needed.

Luckily, Sofia hadn't noticed, and delicately nibbled at one of the little cakes laid out on the table. Everyone sighed, relieved. No one wanted to bring up the topic of the earthquake again. The repairs to the palace had been conducted, and the garden had been refurbished and replanted. Many of the houses and roads had been repaired, and if they weren't, then the plans for rebuilding were being drafted, the first bricks had been laid, and the foundations had been dug.

But what couldn't be repaired was the grief that everyone felt for their losses. Sofia had lost her mother. Raiden and Linton had lost their parents. Gabriel and Amparo had lost their unborn child. The Montagues had lost their Ranch, and the Menelaus family had lost their second son, Demetrius.

"What are Raiden and Linton like, anyway? And how old are they? Do you think we'll get on with them?" asked Allegra.

"Raiden's fourteen. He's a quiet lad," said Hermia, "And Linton is twelve. He's a bit more outgoing. Remember when he stood in for Tudor during the musical?"

"Ahhh, the musical," Mercutio grinned, "I've written heaps now. People are hailing Edouard: The Musical, as the new Rocky Horror. It's got heaps of views on Youtube now. Mummy, are you proud of me?"

"Yes, Mercutio," sighed Adelaide. Mercutio grinned even wider, got up, and plonked himself down on her lap, "No, no, Mercutio! You're too big for this! Get off, you fat lump!"

"But mummy, I want cuddle!" cried Mercutio "Hugs!"

"No, Mercutio, that's enough!" insisted Adelaide, trying to shove him off. Mercutio climbed up, disappointedly, and then sat back down in his old seat. As if to make a point, he grabbed Micro, from where he was toddling around helping himself to food, plonked him on his lap and snuggled him.

"Dadda!" beamed Micro.

"Here's another parcel. It has an English return address on it. I think it might be from Ned and Dickon," Hermia handed it over.

"Oh, that reminds me. I've got to Skype Anne some time tonight. She's stuck at her sister's and she wants some company," said Juliet.

"She hasn't married Richard yet? Bloody hell, what's slowing them down?" asked Mercutio, as he unravelled his present.

"Some crap about her and her sister's inheritance. Clarence is getting pissy about it," explained Hermia, "Seriously, if I were Richard, I'd kick Clarence in the balls and just marry her. To hell with castles and land!"

"If only it were that simple," said Juliet, "What did they give you, Merc?"

"Oooh, it's a boxset of 'The Only Way Is Essex' and 'Geordie Shore!'"

"Oh God," groaned Adelaide.

"Here's my present to you," said Allegra quickly, passing it over, "Well, it's from Micro and Monty too."

"Aww, cheers, Monty, who's a clever doggy going to the shops all by himself?" praised Mercutio.

"Actually he got himself thrown out for chewing a man's shoe," replied Allegra.

"Good boy!" Mercutio scratched the black Labrador's ears. Monty closed his eyes contently, and then sat down with his head on Mercutio's lap.

"You and that dog," sighed Adelaide.

"Monty is my best friend. Until Allegra moved in, he used to sleep in my bed," scolded Mercutio.

"He still does most nights," admitted Allegra, "He climbs up and starts licking your face and then decides to walk around on your belly. Bad dog!"

"Yeah, bad dog. Go and do that sort of thing to Paris," said Mercutio, scratching Monty behind his ears.

"Ugh, Mercutio," groaned Adelaide, "Aren't you ever going to grow up?"

"No," retorted Mercutio, "Why would I do such a terrible thing? Why would I act maturely? Why would I sacrifice every part of me that makes me awesome?"

"You tell them, Wooshy-wo," said Hermia firmly.

"Oh no..." whimpered Benvolio.

"What is it, Bennykins?" asked Mercutio.

"It's...it's my sister."

The whole group turned around.

"Oh shit," cursed Hermia.

"What the fuck have you done?" screamed Benvolio.

"My highlights," gasped Beatrix, running towards them, "They've gone all wrong!"

"I'll say! You look like you've got seaweed hanging off your head!" giggled Mercutio.

"Shut up!" yelled Beatrix. Her usually long bleached blonde hair was tinted with green. She looked horrified. Her hazel eyes were wide and outraged. She wobbled precariously on pink heels.

"Beatrix...why?"

"Well, I've been dyeing my hair blonde for years now, I was fed up of going boring old golden blonde all the time, and I wanted to try something a bit...brighter! You know how everyone had gone crazy for platinum blonde hair because of Gabe's natural colour?"

"Oh God, Beatrix..." groaned Benvolio.

"I decided to do highlights, just to try it out. And now..."

"You stupid girl!" snapped Benvolio, "It's too bright for you! No wonder this has happened!"

"What's your natural hair colour?" asked Hermia.

"I can't remember," replied Beatrix.

"It's the same as mine!" exclaimed Benvolio.

"Yeah, that's why I dye it, ugly face," snapped Beatrix.

"Don't call him ugly!" snarled Hermia. Beatrix looked taken aback.

"Anyway...what do I do?" she blinked.

"You could...hurry up and give me my birthday present," suggested Mercutio.

"I haven't got you one," snapped Beatrix.

Mercutio's face crumpled. He threw his hands over his eyes and began to cry loudly.

"Beatrix! You made him cry!" scolded Hermia.

"I'm the one who should be fucking crying, my hair looks like fucking seaweed!" Beatrix tugged at it, "Oh, god, it's coming out!"

"This is hilarious!" snickered Romeo.

"It's not funny!" roared Beatrix.

"You might want to leave before Gabe turns up. You know he will laugh, especially if you tried to copy his hair," advised Hermia.

"God, you're right," Beatrix quickly tucked her hair behind her ears, "So...shall I go and get it dyed back?"

"Not if it's green and falling out. It's too weak to take the bleach. You'll probably need it cut short and have to go back to your natural colour until it gets strong again," said Juliet.

"I don't want it short! I'll look like a man! No, worse, I'll look like Benvolio!"

"Fuck off Beatrix!" cursed Benvolio.

"Fine! And I'll have my hair back to normal before you know it!" Beatrix yelled. She spun around, green locks flowing, before bumping into Gabriel and his brothers. Gabriel's own platinum locks were perfectly styled and perfectly intact, and his brothers matched him perfectly. Even Alexei, as he was cradled in Gabriel's arms, had perfect hair.

"Oh my God!" he giggled "What the hell happened to you?"

Raiden and Linton exchanged glances, before giggling as well.

"Don't ask," Beatrix stomped off.