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Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! —Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Once, he would have burned the damn city to the ground just to keep her unharmed. Of course it was hard for him to hurt her now. It went against every fiber of his being. Every cell, every nerve—they had grown into place with one mantra: protect her, protect her. Even after knowing she had become someone else, even after hearing all the terrible things she had done in New York… she was still Juliette. His Juliette.
And what was love if all it did was kill?
Like twin statues reaching for each other, they both fell asleep at last.
“You just don’t get it.” “What, Benedikt? What could I possibly not get—” “I loved him!”
Marshall scratched his head. “Don’t tell me you went and got a lover,” he grumbled. “I’ve only been dead for five months and you’re already buying women presents?” Then Benedikt brought out a lighter and started to burn the ribbon. Marshall’s eyes bugged. “Oh. Oh, never mind.”
“I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.”
“I will stare fear in the face,” Juliette promised quietly. “I will dare to love you, Roma Montagov, and if the city cuts me down for it, then so be it.”
“Look,” Benedikt said faintly, hardly hearing his own words as they slipped out. “You got your resurrection too.”
“A rose is a rose, even by another name,” he whispered. “But we choose whether we will offer beauty to the world, or if we will use our thorns to sting.”