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Whimpers. That’s the first thing Ambrosius hears as he groggily opens his eyes at some ungodly hour of the morning. Not the kind of whimpers that he’d enjoy, the kind Bal makes when they’re tangled in the sheets and praying Nimona isn’t listening in. No, the shuddering, cut-off noises from outside the door could only be borne of soulful pain, noises Ambrosius hopes never to hear in the lair again. He shifts in the bed, checking to see if his lover’s still asleep, but instead finds a distinctly Ballister-less hole left by the mountain of pillows he sleeps with, confirming his fears. Bal was the one crying, Ambrosius realizes as the keening noises behind the door intensify in their grief. The golden-haired ex-knight scrambles from the bed, far more awake than he should be at this hour, and makes for the door, determined to be there for his love (the this time is said only in his thoughts). He reaches for the door handle, but jerks back as if burned when a flash of pink light reveals Nimona’s teenage form standing in his path, baring their teeth.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” They grit out, eyes consumed by pink light in his rage.
Shocked, Ambrosius is left merely staring in silence as Nimona stops him from comforting Bal, whose cries only get louder the longer he’s left alone
“Well?” the kid prods expectantly. “Promise you’ll stay here.”
“Promise- absolutely not!” Ambrosius stage whispers, his voice returning to him at the absurd request. “He’s in pain! I have to help him, I can’t just leave him-“
“You can, and if you really wanna help right now, you will,” Nimona spits at him, before softening slightly, his eyes returning to their usual state. “Listen Goldilocks, I know you wanna ‘make up for being the worst boyfriend in history’ or whatever, but this? This isn’t the time to do it, trust me. He doesn’t need you right now, in fact he needs to be as far away from you as possible.”
Ambrosius’s mind spins at their words. Bal… can’t be around him? But he’s always needed comfort in moments like these, always needed a shoulder to cry on, what changed? He nearly voices this, before reality comes crashing down on him.
The ceremony. The queen. The arm, sweet Gloreth the arm. Of course Bal doesn’t want him right now, why should he? When Ambrosius couldn’t, wasn’t there for him when his lover needed him most? But, they’d been doing better, haven’t they? Ambrosius has been going to individual therapy, they’ve been communicating more, hell, they’ve sparred together, something Ambrosius thought to be impossible after everything. Why is it still so hard for Bal to come to him?
“Because once trust is broken, it’s pretty damn hard to mend,” Nimona says, because apparently he’s been saying everything out loud.
“Still are Goldilocks.”
“….Shutting up”
“Thank you. Now listen here Goldenboy; you cannot, under any circumstances, leave this room until I say so, got that? I’ll explain everything later so I don’t have to waste time on this next time Boss needs me, but for now just shut up and do as I say. Not for me, certainly not for you, but for Boss. Promise.”
Ambrosius hesitates for a moment, but just then a crash echos from the hall, with a pained cry close behind, making his decision for him.
“I promise.”
Nimona stares at him for a moment, as if assessing his sincerity, before something in his gaze satisfies them enough to turn around and shift out of the room. Ambrosius immediately rushes to the crack in the door to listen in, needing to know if his love is alright. Ballister’s sobs fade into harsh whimpers as Nimona’s voice enters the equation. They sound soothing, a tone Ambrosius previously thought was impossible for the kid to use. Eventually, his curiosity overtakes him however, and Ambrosius gently pads out of the bedroom and down the hall, until he’s just able to make out the shapes of his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s chaotic shifter child.
Ballister looks wrecked. His normally perfect hair is in disarray, and his body trembles violently within the fetal pose he’s taken up. His face isn’t visible, but it’s not hard to imagine the tear stained face his beloved undoubtedly wears. Nimona calmly sits beside him, gentle words of encouragement flowing out of their mouth almost like a prayer
Don’t just sit there kid, Ambrosius wants to say, he needs touch when he gets like this. Hug him damnit, this clearly isn’t helping. Nevertheless, he silently watches, unwilling to break his promise to the kid. And as he listens to what exactly the kid’s saying, he’s glad he kept his mouth shut.
“It’s ok Boss, it’s alright,” he was saying, “we’re ok now, everything’s ok yeah?”
“But they hate me, he hates me, Ambrosius-“
“Loves you more than either of us could’ve imagined,” the kid interrupts his stuttering ramblings with. “Listen I might not like the guy but it’s clear to see he loves you, and that’s really all that matters.”
”But he thinks I killed her,” Ballister echos disbelievingly. “My mum, he thinks I killed- “ he breaks off with a choked sob as he finally, finally, reaches out to Nimona’s waiting arms. He wraps him up into an embrace, shushing Bal’s newest round of sobs with soft words to his hair.
“I’ve got you boss, you’re safe here. We’re gonna be ok, shh, it’s alright, I promise-promise-promise everything’s alright.” If not for the shaking wreck of a man in their arms, Ambrosius might’ve thought the kid was comforting themself, what with the tears now flowing down Nimona’s face as well. But Ambrosius wasn’t focused on this, he was far too busy keeping a hand pressed to his mouth as he stumbles back into the cover of darkness and away from the scene he caused. Because he caused this didn’t he? At least in part, for if nothing else before all of this he was Bal’s safety net, and Bal his. Now it seems he’s lost that privilege, and the trust that comes with it, to the miraculous pink-haired shifter currently holding the broken pieces of his love together on the kitchen floor. Pleads of “I didn’t do it,” “I’m innocent,” and worst of all “Please Ambrosius, I’m sorry, please-“ haunt the golden-haired man as he creeps back into the bedroom like the monster he must be. He shuts the door as quietly as possible, before falling into the bed and letting his own sobs free, if not muffled by a pillow or two, as he falls into a fitful sleep
← —————→
Nimona draws a shaky breath as she watches the panicked form of Ambrosius Goldenloin retreat back into the shadows. Now able to focus all of their attention on their fa-boss, she continues to mutter sweet nothings his old self would be ashamed of while stroking Ballister’s sweat-soaked form. After a time unknown to them both, Ballister slowly lifts his head up until his eyes find Nimona’s, where the latter lets out a relieved breath.
“You with us Boss?” He asks hesitantly.
“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Bal responds with a breathy chuckle. “Sorry you had to deal with that kid, I should be able to take care of myself.”
“How many times have I gotta tell ya Boss, that’s the most unhealthy shit I’ve ever heard of,” Nimona’s usual spunk returns to her voice as the situation deescalates. “You’ve gotta come to me next time ok? We both know I’m gonna find you anyway, and it’s much better for everyone involved if I catch you before the mental breakdown starts. Now then,” Nimona holds up a few fingers, a toothy grin on their face, “how many fingers am I holding up.”
“Come on I wasn’t that bad,” Ballister laughs, pushing Nimona’s hand down with his prosthetic.
“No c’mon I gotta make sure you didn’t get brain damage from all the wishy-washy stuff!” they’re both laughing now, Nimona trying to shove his fingers as far into Bal’s face as possible while the latter attempts to tackle her to the floor.
Laughter dying down, Nimona’s face takes on a more solemn look. “Seriously Boss, you ok?”
“Yeah, just a nightmare I couldn’t seem to get away from. I’ll be alright in the morning.”
“Alright then,” Nimona says, brushing themself off as he stands, “but if you need me-“
“I know where to find you,” Bal finishes with a wry smile. “Now get some sleep kid, we’ve got a big day of breaking stuff tomorrow.”
“Only if it’s Institute property.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”