a wish that came true twice

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Me neither, Ronin admits freely, his grin half hidden in the pillow but no less boyish for it, and as he starts to relax and the silence stretches out enough to feel real and good, it becomes all the more sacred to him. The rest of the world ought to be afraid, though. Because so help me, if something wakes these two up before we've gotten less than an hour into a nap... The grin remains, but it's suddenly edged with a dragon's fangs, and the Knight doesn't apologise for it in the slightest.

Slowly he lets his hand lift from the baby's feather-soft cheek, reaching out instead to grasp for Remi's fingers. Brushing a thumb across scarred knuckles, he draws the Bastion's hand towards his waiting lips as if they're out on some first or second date, his kiss gentle even if the emotion that roars behind it is anything but. I love you. He whispers it, despite only the two of them being around to hear the declaration in their minds.

As for their twins, he blinks down at them with renewed curiosity. I was thinking the same, he admits. With how upset they've been, surely magic or shifts would have manifested by now, even if they didn't know they were doing it?

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi doesn’t so much as blink at the flash of teeth in Ronin’s grin, doesn’t temper it or soften it, only nods once with quiet, emphatic agreement, because if anything dares to shatter this hard-won peace, it will find them both far less patient than they’ve ever been with anything before. The thought of it settles between them not as threat, but as promise.

His hand turns easily in Ronin’s grasp, fingers splaying to fit more naturally between his husband’s, the familiar press of scar against skin grounding in a way that needs no words. He watches the motion of Ronin drawing his hand close, the softness of the kiss against knuckles that have known far less gentle things, and something in Remi’s chest loosens entirely at the sight of it; his husband, their children, the quiet hum of safety wrapped around them like a held breath finally released.

I love you more, he answers without hesitation, the thought shaped just as softly, threaded through with warmth that lingers even after the words themselves fade.

His gaze drifts down again to the twins, their tiny forms still pressed together, their earlier distress replaced by this strange, shared calm, and he nods faintly at Ronin’s reasoning. I thought the same, he agrees, watching the rise and fall of their small chests as though committing the rhythm to memory.

There’s a flicker of curiosity that follows, quieter but no less present, and one of his brows lifts slightly as the thought forms. If that’s the case, though... His attention lingers on them a moment longer before shifting back to Ronin, the corner of his mouth curving just a touch. I wonder if a spirit will ever come along to help us understand what it is they’re always crying about.

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Don't make me fight with you about our love, Ronin says, his mental voice warmed by laughter that only shows on his face in the twitch of his lips. He leaves another kiss against Remi's knuckles before releasing his hand, following his gaze back down to their children and the way the entire world seems suddenly and desperately peaceful. His eyes try to grow heavy with it before he catches himself, blinking up at Remi to focus on his voice.

I would welcome a spirit at this point, he admits wholeheartedly, shifting just enough to stay comfortable but to properly look down at Carlo and Calan. Though it looks as though the only thing they were really upset about was being separated... That won't be the case always, he's sure - and not even for that long, given things like hunger and boredom and exhaustion - but for right now at least all they seem to desire are each other.

And Ronin isn't going to disturb that, not after so recently finding it out. Or maybe they do have magic, and it's the same as yours, he suggests, hand raising again to brush across Remi's wrist, bringing with it the flush of his emotions. So they were crying because they could feel our stress and couldn't find each other.

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi inclines his head in quiet concession, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly in a knowing sort of agreement; there are some battles not worth picking at the best of times, and least of all now in Leafchange.

When Ronin lets his hand go, Remi’s fingers linger for a moment as though reluctant to lose the contact, before settling back against the bed beside the twins. His gaze follows naturally, drawn again to the small, impossibly peaceful forms nestled together between them, and he exhales softly. Any amount of translation would be helpful, he murmurs through the bond, a thread of dry humour woven through the thought. Or even nametags.

His eyes flick briefly to Ronin, a quiet, adoring smile touching his features, because the idea of separation—of being pulled apart and left searching—lands in him with a familiar sort of ache he knows his husband shares.

At Ronin's suggestion that they might share his abilities, Remi stills, the softness in his expression tightening into something more uncertain, his brow furrowing as he looks back at Ronin with sudden, unguarded concern. You don’t think so, do you? The thought is quieter now, edged with something that feels uncomfortably close to guilt.

His gaze drops again to the twins, watching them more carefully this time, as though trying to read something new in their calm. The idea settles too easily, slots into place with a logic he doesn’t like, and he swallows against it. Gods...it was a lot for me to handle, he admits, the memory of it still sharp enough to catch at him even now. I cannot imagine what it would be like for them.

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Gods, nametags, Ronin says, quietly awed by his husband's genius and letting a real, soft laugh escape his lips for a moment. Actually, I think I did write their names inside the onesies... Reaching out, he very carefully peeks for the label at the back of one of the twins' baby-grows, letting out a long sigh of relief. This one is Calan, he declares to Remi of the baby closest to him. And if he wasn't when he was born, he is now forevermore.

He hasn't intended to sour the mood, especially not with something as personal as the potential curse of Remi's magic, and as Ronin feels the way his husband seems to turn inward - even without the bond or the magic at play - he reaches for him immediately. No - no, I don't think so, he tells him with instant conviction, clasping his hand and squeezing it gently. Remember, you project your emotions out as well as absorbing them from others. If they'd inherited it, we'd know exactly what they wanted.

No, it's not impossible that they'd been passed some element of it, but at the same time, the likelihood is miniscule regardless of what evidence there might be. Maybe we should ask Flora if she remembers how it was when she and Enzo were little. I imagine they were also inseparable.

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi’s lips twist into a boyish smirk as he watches Ronin carefully inspect the label, the quiet triumph of the discovery settling something small but meaningful between them. He shrugs lightly, a soft, conceding motion of his shoulder as his gaze flicks between the twins. Agreed, he murmurs, the thought easy and untroubled; at this age, what harm could possibly come of getting it wrong for a moment or two, when the twins seem so determined to blur the lines themselves?

When Ronin counters his worry, the logic lands cleanly, cutting through the spiral Remi had already begun to follow. Relief shows plainly in the slow exhale that leaves him, in the way his shoulders ease and his brow smooths. No, of course. You’re right.

He bites lightly at the inside of his lip as Ronin suggests asking Flora, a flicker of something more complicated passing through him; something quieter, edged with the knowledge that he should already know these things, should have been there to learn them the first time. His nod is small, but genuine. Yes, he agrees softly, we should ask her and Enzo.

His attention drifts back down to the twins, their small bodies still nestled together, their earlier distress replaced by a kind of quiet contentment that feels almost unreal after the storm they’d been moments ago. Remi watches them for a beat longer, as though trying to read something deeper in the rhythm of their breathing, in the way their fingers twitch and settle against one another. Then his gaze lifts again to Ronin, softer now, more searching. Do you think they are happy?

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

I was smart earlier, now I'm right? Should I be worried you're going to break bad news to me later on? The humour is easy even if it's short-lived, and Ronin's lopsided smile fades immediately at the flush of shame that rushes, hot and uncomfortable, through their clasped hands. Hey, he says softly, reaching up to brush his fingers across Remi's cheek as if to keep his attention. That wasn't your fault - it was mine. It's easy to own the guilt of it now, and easier still when the alternative is for Remi to try and wrestle with some internal strife.

Resisting the urge to lean across properly for a kiss - in case it breaks whatever spell has fallen over the twins - instead Ronin sighs and drops his gaze to the two boys as well, letting their strange and easy contentment wash over him. If you had asked me a few minutes ago I would have said no, he admits, his laughter boyish and honest.

Now, though? And in general? I can't see why they wouldn't be. For all of our faults, they've been born into a family that loves hard and doesn't know how to stop. Ronin shrugs. That kind of love bleeds into everything, I think.

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi’s answering laugh is soft and quick, the sound carefully contained as his eyes flick back to Ronin with that same boyish glint. You got me. Actually you’re dying, only hours left, so I thought I’d let you feel what it’s like to be told you were clever and right in the same afternoon, he thinks back, the humour warm and lightly wicked, a thread of affection woven cleanly through it.

The moment Ronin’s hand finds his cheek, though, something in Remi quiets. His smile softens, turns fragile in a way that isn’t meant for anyone else, and he lifts his own hand to cover Ronin’s, pressing gently into the touch as though to hold it there. It was both of our faults, he answers, the thought steady but not heavy, more acceptance than blame. He swallows, a small motion, and gives the faintest shake of his head. Either way, it is a good idea to ask them about it.

He tilts his head slightly, angling his gaze down toward the twins again, watching the easy rise and fall of their breathing, the way their tiny forms remain curled toward one another as though the rest of the world is irrelevant. Ronin’s words settle into him slowly, not as reassurance forced into place, but as something that finds its own footing. Remi nods, once, quiet agreement passing through him. You’re probably right.

His eyes lift again, drawn back to Ronin, lingering there for a moment before drifting down once more, as though he’s trying to hold both realities at once; the certainty Ronin offers, and the fragile newness of what they’ve been given. He exhales softly. I just want to make sure we get it right this time. Or at least...as much of it as we can.

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Aw, isn't that sweet of you? Ronin smirks. I'll be sure to ask you to tell me all of it again when I get back from being dead. Because, naturally, those types of threats don't hit the way they used to, not unless Remi has secretly changed alignment to a different god in the days since the twins' arrival.

Ronin lets his amusement fade under the warmth of the Bastion's hand atop his own, and though he wants to absolve him of every drop of blame he places on his own shoulders, he knows better. Like everything important over the last decade, both good and bad, this is something they'll own together, learning from it and vowing for it not to go down the same way.

Which is, perhaps, why his answer to Remi's question had been so easy. Only probably this time? he quips. I must be taking steps away from death's door.

Glancing up as well as if sensing the other man's gaze on him, the smile he offers is tired, certainly, but no less warm and reassuring for it. I think we will, he says, softly determined. We're different men now. We've learned. Not to mention, we've got Flora and Mateo to hold us accountable - and the twins have both of them to rely on, too.

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi’s shoulders shift with a quiet, stifled chuckle, the sound caught somewhere low in his throat so it doesn’t dare rise high enough to disturb the fragile peace between them. He rolls his eyes in easy agreement, the corner of his mouth lifting. Mmm, best that you do. My memory is not what it once was, as we both know.

At Ronin’s quip, Remi only raises his brows in return, something boyish and faintly smug settling across his features as he gives the smallest, noncommittal shrug, as if to suggest that death might yet have a standing invitation, depending on how the afternoon unfolds.

His gaze softens again as it drifts back to the twins, then up to Ronin, and he nods slowly, the weight of Ronin’s words finding a steady place within him. That is a very good point, he agrees, the thought quiet but certain. There’s a pause, brief but thoughtful, before something else takes shape. Remi shifts his head slightly against the pillow, careful not to disturb the boys between them, his attention flicking between their small forms and Ronin’s tired, reassuring smile.

Perhaps at the start of Deepfrost, we could invite Vai and Aoife to meet them?

RONIN

THE WHITE KNIGHT

Ah, as long as you always remember how much I love you, the rest will fall into place, I'm sure, Ronin says warmly, caring not one jot about how corny he might sound. Here in their little houseboat with their children between them and only Remi present to hear it, he'll be as cringe as he likes. And as he meets his husband's eyes and can feel it, practically, as whatever tension lives in him starts to ease, he barely resists the urge to lean across and kiss him.

(He might love the Bastion but he's not willing to forsake this hard-won peace between them for anything in the world).

Instead, he reaches out to tease one of his curls back out of his face, raising a brow at the suggestion that leaves him. The adoration that floods out of him is palpable, Ronin seeming to soften at the edges in a way that can be considered a rarity this season, and he nods immediately. Yes. Please, he almost whispers through the bond. I would really like that. And he has no doubt that Vai, Aoife and the boys would too. We can invite Flora, Enzo and Mateo as well? he suggests.

now don’t you lose hope

I swear I never dream that we’re alone

I swear I still believe but I don’t know

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi’s expression softens as he looks at Ronin, the boyishness easing into something quieter, deeper, shaped by years rather than moments. He nods once, slow and certain, his gaze steady. Of that I have no doubt, he answers, and there’s no humour in it now, only truth, worn smooth by everything they’ve survived together.

The brush of Ronin’s fingers through his curls sends a faint ripple up his spine, subtle but unmistakable, and Remi’s eyes flick up with a look that is equal parts warning and promise, the kind that needs no words between them after so long. Carefully, deliberately, he turns his head just enough to press a soft kiss to Ronin’s fingers, letting the contact linger for a heartbeat before settling back.

A yawn catches him despite himself, muffled against the pillow as his eyes slip half-lidded. Mm, he hums in quiet agreement, nodding faintly. It would be nice, having everyone in one place.

Between them, the twins stir just slightly, a shift of limbs and soft sounds that threaten, for a fleeting second, to undo the peace they’ve managed. Remi stills instinctively, casting Ronin a sheepish little look as if to suggest even thinking too loudly might be enough to wake them. Then, slowly, he shifts his shoulders, releasing one wing to drape it gently over the twins, the feathers settling in a careful arc that extends just enough to brush against Ronin as well. His eyes close fully this time as the quiet settles back in around them, and whatever thoughts remain drift soft and indistinct through the bond as sleep finally begins to claim him.


~FIN