you cut it but it never breaks

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flowerbirth is in full swing, and the water is a mosaic of colour—reflected sails, floating blossoms, and the shimmering sway of fish beneath the surface. But Flora’s steps are slower today, her braid heavy over one shoulder and her mind somewhere else entirely.

The Northaven comes into view, bobbing gently at its mooring, and Flora climbs aboard without ceremony. She raps her knuckles against the door (new, she notices) once—twice—and calls out, voice raised just enough to carry. "Helloooooo."

She waits, fingers twisting one of her rings absently as she looks out over the water. There's something soft and nostalgic in her gaze, like she's already picturing herself out here someday—her own boat, her own peace. But the why of it still tugs at her chest, heavier than she'd like.

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Come in! Watch your step though!" Ronin's voice echoes out to Flora through one of the open shuttered windows - also new, she might notice. Within, the Knight is putting the finishing touches on the boat he's been painstakingly repairing after his little moment coming out of infection by the Family. And when the Doubletake steps inside, she'll have to dodge around a few freshly varnished planks of wood and their stacked table and chairs.

Sitting up from where he's been painting the wood surrounding the window interior, Ronin plops his brush back into the pot and wipes his hands on already paint-streaked pants, offering Flora a cheerful smile. "I almost thought you'd forgotten where we lived," he tells her with playful haughtiness, rolling to his feet and pushing the sleeves of his shirt up where they've started to roll down.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ronin asks. "Assuming I'm the one receiving your company. If not, I hate to say it, but Remi is out getting breakfast, so I'll have to do regardless."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora slips inside carefully, stepping lightly around planks and chairs stacked neatly to the side, her gaze flickering briefly around the interior with raised brows and the faint curve of a playful smile. "Gods, when you two go at it, you really go at it, huh?" she teases, but there's warmth beneath the amusement as she takes in the careful repairs—the fresh varnish, the new windows, the smell of wood polish in the air.

Her teasing falters for a moment as she turns fully toward Ronin, blinking rapidly as the lingering void distortions ripple and fade around him. For a heartbeat, his form shimmers oddly, purple mist threading softly through his hair, too many eyes momentarily blinking open along his neck and jaw before melting away again. Flora hides her discomfort quickly, though her fingers tighten slightly against her folded arms. She recovers swiftly, masking it all beneath a deliberately exaggerated once-over, taking in the paint-stained pants and shirt sleeves rolled in a way that screams domestication. "You're very 'retired demigod chic' today. It's a good look." Her grin softens then, affectionate and relieved, silently grateful that despite the afterimages, he’s still standing here—himself, whole, and blessedly normal underneath it all.

"And for the record," she adds, folding her arms and lifting her chin primly, "Yours is the only house I know that constantly moves around, so.." She wrinkles her nose, before checking that the wall behind her hadn't been covered in fresh paint before leaning against it. "But yeah—you're exactly who I wanted to see. Although don’t tell Dad I said that or he’ll sulk for days."

Her tone is teasing, but there's a flicker of seriousness in the aqua eyes that lift to meet Ronin’s. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something kind of important." Flora pauses, a little hesitation creeping into her voice. "I have to move out of my place soon..temporarily, at least, and I thought... maybe it was time for me to have my own boat? You know, since everyone else in the family does?"

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"If only," Ronin says with a soft bark of laughter, looking around at the interior as if trying to see the whole of it properly instead of the details he's been working on for the past day or so. "This is what happens when your father tries to give me flowers, apparently." Smirking and letting his gaze land properly on Flora as well, it's as though they both see each other, really see each other for a moment. The Knight freezes, his eyes flicking from Flora's face and hands - too many teeth, eyes in the wrong places, a haze of bile inducing horror - away and then back again, and he clears his throat when it seems to pass. "Are you alright?" he asks in a voice just beyond a whisper. "Is... I assume this is what you meant at the meeting, with your creative risk-taking?"

As for his aesthetic today, he makes lets himself relax enough to offer her a lopsided smile. "Thank you - I've been working on my wardrobe for it," he says, crossing the room to press a fatherly kiss to her cheek and moving to the newly built countertop so he can make them both a drink. "My lips are sealed - though I'd like it known that our house doesn't move all that often right now." Waggling a finger at her as he puts the kettle on the stove for tea and sets out two mugs, Ronin turns to face her.

Tilting his head at her request - already halfway to saying of course before realising the details - he can't help but furrow his brow as he properly listens to what she's saying. "Why will you need to move out?" he asks. "And I kind of assumed you already had your own boat. It's just captained by someone else." Someone whose name rhymes with the end of the word ballsack.

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora leans one hip against the counter, bracing her palms against the cool wood as the kettle hums softly behind Ronin. "I’m fine," she says, and this time the words don’t wobble. Not because they’re entirely true, but because they’ve been rehearsed in her head enough times to come out smooth. Her aqua gaze lifts to meet his briefly, softened by his whisper, by the flicker of something haunted in his expression that she doesn’t need explained. "I had a rose ready. I planned it all out, sent letters before I went to Stormbreak so that Hadama could prick me as soon as I came back. And—" She gestures vaguely around the boat, toward the quiet water beyond the window. "We didn't destroy a single houseboat in the process, I might add." Her smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, before fading at his next question.

"I didn’t say anything at the meeting because I didn’t want it to sway the vote," she says softly, folding her arms over her stomach like it’ll hold her together. "But when Dahlia gave me the blood, she said I couldn’t benefit from it." She doesn’t need to explain what that means—Ronin's smart enough to make the jump—but still, she nods toward the open window, toward the streets that wind back to the Hanged Man and her house beyond. "So now that we’ve decided to protect Haulani, that means I can’t stay there. The protection magic can’t cover me, or else I’m violating the deal."

The words taste bitter, and she swallows hard, twisting one of her rings until it presses too tightly. "So yeah," she adds, a little too flippantly. "It was either a shack on the beach, or a houseboat."w

Her voice goes quieter as she looks past him, toward the far side of the kitchen where the morning light touches the edges of the countertop. "Jack left me a few weeks ago. Said I was making Torchline into a prison. That he didn’t feel safe around me anymore." The words drop like stones, flat and unadorned, and she doesn’t offer any defense for them. Just a shrug, like maybe if she keeps it casual it won’t split her in half.

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Nodding slowly - both at Flora being fine, which is a lie Ronin has been practicing on and off for many years now, and so he doesn't question it - and at her plan, the Knight lets out a long sigh. It's a plan as genius as it is insane and foolhardy, and like it or not, it's precisely the sort of shit he and Remi would consider pulling if things had been different. Which, yes, means that despite wanting to lecture on it, Ronin settles for little more than a gently disparaging frown. "First of all," he sasses, "I wasn't in charge of where the flower was presented to me, so that one's all on Remi. Really he ought to have known there'd be collateral damage."

His expression softens as he regards her. "And secondly, I'm proud of you. But do the growing amount of grey in my hair a favour and maybe try not to do it again?" Letting his shoulders relax and turning to get out a couple of mugs to prepare their tea, clearly Ronin thinks that's the only bomb she's really going to drop today, because when she continues, he damn near drops one of the cups in his hands. "What?" he blurts, blinking at her and tilting his head.

"I... forgive me if I sound stupid, but surely once you're behind Haulani's protection, Dahlia can't do shit to you anyway, even if you did violate her deal? Besides which, I don't feel like The Family are the most honourable among us, so... to hell with the agreement you made?" That's fine, right?

As for Jack, his expression softens, and not for the first time in this conversation, Ronin feels like perhaps he hasn't heard the full story. "...I'm sorry to hear that. I am," he tells her. "Is there anything I can do? Besides building you a boat?"

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora laughs—softly, faintly, but it’s real—and scrubs a hand over her face like she might wipe away the weight of it all. "Here I thought the grey was just so that you'd look more distinguished," she murmurs, grinning, unable to hide the way her chest swells when he mentions he's proud of her, because gods if she hasn't heard everything but those words the last few weeks.

She takes the tea he offers, warming her palms with it as she leans against the edge of the newly finished counter, aqua eyes trailing along the grain of the wood. Her smile fades a touch when he reacts to the rest of what she’s said, though she’s not surprised. "I thought that too, about the agreement," she admits quietly, thumb tapping against the ceramic mug. "But... it wasn’t just about me. The deal said if I benefited personally from her blood, she’d go after the people I care about." Her gaze lifts to meet his, steady now. "And I can't risk that. Torchline really would become a prison."

She doesn’t comment right away on Jack. Not until the quiet stretches again and his words—I’m sorry to hear that—settle somewhere behind her ribs. "Yeah," she says eventually, voice softer than before. "Me too." The tea burns a little on the way down. She welcomes the sting. "But no... there’s nothing to do, I don't think. At the end of the day...I think I'd make the same choice again even if I knew it'd cost me him, and.." For a moment her throat tightens, and it's all she can do to look at the ripples in her tea rather than letting the cup fall from her fingers and shatter at her feet. "..I guess I thought love meant you never found yourself in these kind of situations, you know?" And, given the sort of love between the Knight and Bastion, she was pretty sure that Ronin did.

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"If I want to look distinguished, I put on a suit," Ronin informs Flora, looking for all the world like a baron for a moment, paint-covered clothes and all. Passing her a mug of tea before settling back against the counter with his own, he hears the stipulations about her little agreement with Dahlia with growing unease, chewing at the inside of his cheek and letting out a long sigh that suggests he has not only been in this sort of situation before, but he lives and breathes it now.

"And I suppose Jack doesn't know that little caveat? About the people you love being in danger only if you take advantage of Haulani's protection?" he says softly, taking a quick sip of his tea before setting the mug down and scooching across to wrap an arm around Flora. "It's hard, when your heart is always in the right place, mm?" he says with a faint smirk.

But gods, there's so much at stake regardless of the course of action. "How do you know Dahlia isn't going to come after you and the people you love when she realises you cheated her and got cured? I imagine she already knows, if I'm honest..." Ronin winces. "But also... selfishly... you know if you and your brother go behind that barrier, Remi and I can get back in the fight, right?" As much as I'm a fan of retired demigod chic, it's not where I prefer to be."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora snorts into her tea at the mental image of Ronin in a suit, a little of the weight around her shoulders lifting at the sound. But it’s short-lived, chased away by the ache that returns when he mentions Jack. Her head shakes before the question even finishes. "He didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain," she says quietly. "He gave me about three minutes before he spat at my feet and left."

She sips again, more to stall than anything else, before flashing Ronin a crooked smile. "Honestly? Life was way easier when my heart wasn’t in the right place." Then, with mock accusation: "I blame you. And Dad. And Remi. And Mom. And Sunjata. Honestly, this whole damn family is the worst influence. Should’ve let me stay shallow and manipulative. I’d be a lot less stressed."

At his next question, her expression sobers again. "Being cured was never part of the deal," she says simply. "She said I could take the blood. That I could use it so long as I didn't benefit. Nothing about what came after." Her gaze lifts to him again, sharper this time, but not unkind. "Why did you follow her rules for so long if you didn't expect her to hold up her end?"

When he brings up Mateo, Flora stiffens, just slightly, her fingers tightening around the ceramic. "You don’t have to worry about me," she says, her tone carefully measured. "I’ve already got a target on my back, whether I’m in the city or not. And Mateo…" She trails off, her lips twitching into something softer. "I mean, we have both channel you or dad if something happens, and you can bring us both back if it comes to it." She glances sideways at him. "So maybe you and Remi should get back in the fight. Or at least ask Mateo what his thoughts are. Maybe he'll be perfectly happy staying in the city."

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

Wrinkling his nose and barely suppressing the flare of radiant light in his chest at the news about Jack's reaction, Ronin clears his throat rather than deciding to go and blast The Ark out of the sky with dragonfire. Instead, it's with a low and good-natured chuckle that he turns to press a kiss to Flora's hair. "Blame me all you like - if you being brave and heroic and looking after people is my fault, I'm glad to take it," he informs her, before his gaze hardens a fraction and he stares out of the open window.

"Dahlia has lost a lot more now than she did when she infected me and made my deal. Something is going to boil over soon, I can feel it," he mutters, before glancing back to Flora. "But honestly, if I'd had a way I could keep you and Mateo safe right away, I'd have reneged on my deal with her instantly. Wouldn't have felt bad about it for a second." And as for jumping back into the fight regardless, he shakes his head.

"I don't think you understand," Ronin says softly. "She wouldn't kill you once and be done with it. She'd kill you again and again, until there was no bringing you back. Besides," he adds, frowning to the Doubletake and shifting to look at her properly, "it isn't easy, you know? Remi hearing your voice from the other side and realising you're dead, finding your body all torn up by whatever has killed you, rushing to make sure I'm there in time to pull you back. It takes a toll on us, every single time."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora huffs as Ronin presses that kiss into her hair, swatting gently at his chest like she’s brushing him off—but the sound is too soft, the touch too familiar, to be anything other than affectionate protest. Still, she straightens after, spine stiffening like a blade being drawn. "Yeah, well, I’m not you," she says, voice low but steady. "I don’t just have two kids and an immortal husband who’d burn the world down for me. I’ve got a region. An entire coast of people who’ve already lost too much and are about to lose more if we don’t keep pushing back."

Her knuckles tighten around the tea mug until the ceramic creaks faintly. "You think any of this is easy?" she asks, her tone bordering on accusatory. "The man I wanted to marry left me. Not just broke up with me—left, spat at my feet and flew off like I was a monster. I’m the one who got infected, the one who cut the deal, the one giving up the home Enzo and I lived in and my bar." She lifts her eyes to Ronin again, jaw set, expression fierce. "So no—I’m not going to stop fighting just because Dad has to hear my voice in his head and you might have to see me dead again. Because as far as good reasons go, that’s not one."

The breath she lets out is shaky, though, and she tips her head toward the window, watching the water dance in the light. "Maybe I’ll just stay invisible all the time," she mutters, quieter now, though not joking. "Make it harder for Dahlia to find me if you and Dad get back into things. If I’ve got the compass and I don’t stay still too long, I’ll always have a way out." She shrugs a little, curls shifting against her shoulders. "I’m not asking you to like it. But I am asking you to respect it, because if I stay in Haulani, it puts way more than just Mateo and I at risk and that's not something I'm willing to do." It would be Jack and Sohalia at risk, Hotaru and Sunjata, Koa and Kaisel, Danta and Asta.

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"You think I don't know that as well?" Ronin says quietly, raising his eyebrows at her despite the sudden flare in her temper. "I co-ruled in the Grounds when your father and I were first thrown here to Caido. And I was on his council when he ruled here, and in the Greatwood. I held Stormbreak right up to the war - I know exactly how it is to have everyone looking to you for answers, and to be the example. I know how it is to dig through the rubble for bodies of people who depended on me."

Straightening up from the counter and setting his mug down, Ronin inhales deeply and lets it out again. "I didn't ask you to stop fighting, besides. I can respect your decision - you're a grown woman and a queen of a region, of course I can. But similarly, I can ask you not to treat your life so flippantly just because you're gifted with the privilege of second chances. You're no good to anyone dead, Flora, even if it's for less than 24 hours at a time."

His jaw feathers, only briefly, before Ronin nods. "I'll help to build you a boat - and I'm sure Remi will too, when I explain things to him. And I won't go back into the fight. If you're stuck outside Haulani, at least you'll have us with you."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting

never be so kind you forget to be clever

Flora doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers tap against her mug, slow and deliberate, as Ronin's words settle like silt through her chest. She knows he’s right—or at least, not wrong—and that only makes it harder to swallow. When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter, less defensive but no less firm. "I know you’ve carried the weight, but you aren't carrying it right now." Her gaze flicks sideways to him, expression softer than before. "And I know you don’t want me treating my life like it's disposable." She pauses, the corner of her mouth lifting, bitter and dry. "But isn't that the point of your abilities? That we can take certain calculated risks?" She shrugs, curls slipping loose from the braid over her shoulder. "I'm of way more use to people even temporarily dead than I am hiding away in Torchline and putting a target on the backs of those I care about."

Drawing in a breath, Flora glances down at her mug. "Thanks for helping with the boat." She takes another sip of tea, wondering if this was the part where she was meant to awkwardly shuffle out of the houseboat.

we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead

"Believe me," says Ronin, "I'd be carrying it if I could. Especially seeing how much weight is on your shoulders." His smile is a sad thing, and he looks less like a retired demigod and more like one hobbled, tied down by circumstance and bound by promises. Still, taking one last (and belated) sip of his tea, he steps away from Flora properly and rolls shoulders made stiff from being crunched up to paint the houseboat interior.

"You're not wrong," he agrees, about his abilities and the point of them. "But you being more useful temporarily dead might mean that someone fighting on Starfall is permanently dead as a result. It's a balancing act - and it's why it's so important for people to communicate and plan things together. Something I'm sure you're learning as well, with all those big important meetings you're forced to attend now." A ghost of a smile curls at his lips.

If she wants to scurry out of the boat he won't stop her, but if not, Ronin crosses back to his paint and sits himself down by the window regardless. "You want something like this?" he wonders, of her boat. "Or more like a sailboat? My only caveat is you need to learn how to sail it if so. It's bad enough your brother not knowing how to pilot."

THE WHITE KNIGHT

and continue fighting