If you want to read SOBH, but don't really know where to start, this post is for you. Cassandra Clare never really added an index to the official SOBH tumblr page, so reading it is a bit messy because you have to go to the archive page and go all the way down. That's a waste of time, so here you have a list of all the chapters of this short novel in publishing order. You just have to click on each link to read it.
thinking about beatrice always being there for ava every step of the way until the very end, until ava went into the portal and that’s when, for the first time, bea realises that she won’t be there for ava and ava will be alone again im SICK
beatrice fr better than me because if ava looked at me like that bitch u better believe i would get on my knees right then and there and beg for her not even kidding
starting warrior nun was the best decision of my life and if it gets cancelled i’m ending up on national news and the only christmas present i’ll get this year is visitation rights because my god i’ll be fucking pissed
finally I get to share my hyperfixation with y'all
ao3
word count: 1.8k
The trip to Zhouzhuang was a risky one. It had been a year since the incident and Benedikt doubted anyone would wonder where they were going, or even recognize who they were so far into the train ride, their compartment empty of all patrons except for the old couple sitting near the front. Still, it unnerved Benedikt to the point where all he could do was tap his fingers on his bouncing knee.
A hand came over his, effectively stopping the tapping and bouncing. “Relax, my love. We’ll be there soon enough,” Marshall Seo whispered in his ear. It calmed him down a bit. Benedikt could say that a year of living together in Moscow gave Marshall the exact words he needed for the situation, but that would be a lie. Marshall had always had the right words to say, even when they were fifteen and running from their feelings for each other. Marshall could agitate and persuade and calm and a million other things that started up the fire in Benedikt’s chest.
The speakers overhead announced their stop. Marshall let go of Benedikts hand in favor of pulling the brim of his hat lower over his eyes, his other hand stuffed in his pocket as they stepped off the train. Benedikt cursed under his breath as he saw a swish of familiar blonde hair. Of course, she would be here, today of all days. Alisa Montagova was walking right toward them, lost in thought. Marshall, apparently also lost in thought, did not see her. Benedikt had to pull him out of the way just so they wouldn’t collide.
Oddly enough, Alisa didn’t spot them, her thoughts apparently being enough to derail her expert observation skills. Benedikt could guess as to what they were, being they were in the place her brother spoke so fondly of on the one year anniversary of his and Juliette’s supposed deaths.
Celia Lang, who was walking beside Alisa, was not so lost in thought. Her eyes locked on Benedikt's as she made her way toward the platform to catch the return train to Shanghai. He knew about their efforts with the Communists. Celia had been the one to keep them informed while they were away, had been the one to tell them about Roma and Juliette the day their obituaries were printed in the papers alongside their marriage certificate.
Benedikt remembered hearing the words, remembered falling to his knees and sobbing in relief as Marshall laughed through his tears, crouching down to place a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Those bastards,” Marshall had said.
Those bastards indeed, Benedikt thought as they walked away from Alisa and Celia. Despite the fact that the three of them knew, they never told Alisa. It was too dangerous with all the happenings still going on in Shanghai, and the fact that Alisa was now a Communist spy. Though, she was smart. Even after a year, she still didn’t quite believe the ruse. Maybe one day they would tell her, but for now, her hope had to be enough.
Marshall linked his hands with Benedikt’s again once they were farther into town. Here, no one really paid them any mind. While Moscow provided the hustle and bustle of a city that Marshall so deeply craved, that Benedikt himself would feel lost without, he understood why Roma and Juliette had such an adoration for this peaceful town.
“Look, yeobo, by the canal,” Marshall said, pointing in the direction of one of the willow trees.
Benedikt finally let himself smile, let himself relax as he saw the couple lounging there. The first time Benedikt saw them after the incident, which had been one of the most impulsive and dangerous decisions he’d ever made in his life, they were covered in ash, the smell of gasoline lingering wherever they went. They were hurt and broken, leaning on each other, holding up the other so fiercely, even though they could barely hold up themselves.
Their knees were wobbly, but they welcomed Benedikt and Marshall into their temporary lodgings with tired smiles and hoarse offerings for food and drink. When Marshall handed them their forged marriage certificate, their smiles grew despite their exhaustion.
Juliette set it aside and gently hooked her arm with Roma’s, her hand resting on his bicep, her hand on his shoulder. She hummed contentedly, letting her eyes fall closed. “My husband,” she said softly.
Just as gently, Roma combed a lock of hair out of Juliette’s face. “Dorogaya,” he whispered. “My wife.”
Now, their faces were unmarred by ash or exhaustion or hurt, the smell of gasoline no longer lingered in the air. Their smiles were no longer tired, their laughter no longer hoarse. Roma pressed a quick kiss to Juliette’s lips, Juliette still giggling at whatever Roma said. When he attempted to pull away, she pulled him back, unbalancing him from his position on a propped up elbow. He fell on top of her and their giggles got even louder.
The scene was so different from a year ago, the only reminder of the incident being the permanently blackened string around their fingers that they were too stubborn, or too sentimental, to give up. Juliette’s string was accompanied by another ring, a simple one made out of steel with a word Benedikt couldn’t quite make out engraved on it.
Marshall was the one to announce their arrival. “Alright, you two giggle monsters, let’s remember to breathe.”
Juliette laughed even harder at that while Roma pushed himself up into a sitting position, hauling Juliette up with him from where she was lying on the ground. “Did you just call us… giggle monsters?” he asked with a look of disgust on his face.
Marshall grinned. “I sure did.” He dug around in the pocket of his thin coat and pulled out a brown paper bag, tossing it to Roma who caught it smoothly. “A gift.”
Juliette’s eyes lit up as she looked at its contents. “Piroshkis!”
“All the way from Moscow,” Marshall said. “They should be a little warmer than last time too.”
“I should hope so since last time it was freezing cold in the middle of January,” Juliette said, grabbing a piroshki and taking a big bite, moaning at the taste. “Definitely still cold, but I’m starving. I’m going to eat this whole bag.”
“Hey, back off, lady. You’re not the one who’s been travelling for days just to get here.” Marshall sat down and made a swipe for the bag, but Juliette was fast, holding the piroshkis just out of reach.
“I thought they were a gift,” she said.
“A gift that is meant to be shared,” Marshall said.
Benedikt and Roma shared a fond look as they watched their loves fight over food like children.
As a breeze washed over them, so too was Benedikt washed over with a sense of peace. It solidified in his mind that the worst was finally over, that he could finally breathe .
Benedikt sat down next to Marshall as Marshall at last managed to snag a piroshki away from Juliette. As he was about to take a bite, Benedikt snatched it from him and sank his teeth into it instead.
“Hey!”
Benedikt smiled. “Should’ve been faster.”
Before he could continue eating, Marshall leaned over and took his long awaited bite, not even bothering to try and steal the piroshki back from him. A smug smile crossed his face as he attempted to chew the big bite he’d managed to get. “Payback,” he said, mouth still full.
“Keep your mouth closed, Mars. Where are your manners? We are guests,” Benedikt said.
“Guests? We’re outside,” Marshall said after he finally swallowed his food.
“Still, we are from out of town.”
“I don’t think that qualifies us as—”
Marshall was cut off by Roma's gasp. Their heads snapped in his direction, searching for any sign of danger, though when they saw his face, he wasn’t looking at any outside source, he was looking at their hands. Specifically, the strings tied around their fingers.
“You guys got married?!” Roma exclaimed. Juliette caught sight of their hands as well, eyes lighting up like a fire.
Marshall dropped the argument immediately and laced his fingers with Benedikt’s, bringing his hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “We got the idea from you.”
“We know it’s not real,” Benedikt said quietly. “But it’s real enough.”
Marshall’s smile softened as he looked at his husband. “Alisa gave us a certificate as soon as she saw the rings. I don’t know how she got it done so quickly.”
Roma and Juliette's excitement melted into soft smiles, twin expressions they’d adopted from each other after loving and being for so long. Benedikt assumed they got to see that smile a lot more lately. He smiled back, leaning into Marshall as Juliette leaned into Roma.
“Your marriage is as real as ours,” Juliette said. “Our papers are forged too.”
It was true, of course. Benedikt pressed a kiss to the back of his husband’s hand, a gesture he’d picked up from Marshall. It’s not that he’d never been a big fan of physical affection, he just never knew how to do it. He was learning, slowly, through Marshall’s example, though Marshall didn’t even know he was teaching him. Not that Benedikt would ever tell him. It would go straight to Marshall’s ego and he’d never hear the end of it.
Me? Teaching the Great Benedikt Montagov? he’d say.
Benedikt couldn’t help but grin at the hypothetical. For years, he’d lived on hypotheticals, but he didn’t need them anymore, not when Marshall was sitting right next to him, watching him so softly, Benedikt feared his heart would burst.
“Are you alright, Ben?” Marshall asked, voice barely heard over the sudden burst of wind that swept over them yet again.
“Mhm,” Benedikt hummed, inhaling deeply.
Across from him, Juliette did the same, her eyes falling closed as she leaned back against her husband. Roma wrapped his arms around her middle, placing a kiss to her temple. Juliette looked rejuvenated as the wind kept blowing, like she was fifteen again, running around her city, sneaking around with the heir of a rival gang.
But she was not fifteen anymore. None of them were. Benedikt was rather glad for that fact. Now, going into their twenties, he could finally hold onto the hope of a more peaceful life. It looked like Roma and Juliette’s hope, their fight, had already paid off. They looked so at home in each other's arms, so safe, so calm, so happy . Did Benedikt look like that with Marshall? Whether he looked it or not, it was how he felt.
The wind had snatched up all their words. Once it was done flying around them, it gave them back. Juliette was the first to use them.
“You know, I used to think I’d never stop smelling that gasoline,” she said with a contented smile. “But now, all I smell are the willow trees.”
having a breakdown again about romajuliette like. they’re alive. they’re alive and well and we get them back alongside benmars in february. like it’s still hitting. my babies are coming home. sobbing into a pillow as we speak brb