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mythology-void · 5 months ago

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Could you write Ambrosius and Nimona getting along while Ballister gets a well-rested nap?

Sure! I'm feeling a bit angsty, so, have this.

A golden wound.

Or the one where Nimona reluctantly decides to become something like friends with Ambrosius.

TW for slight, non-graphic mentions of self-destructive behavior and general relationship problems. Also, implied child neglect and abuse. And drinking but in a good way.

Putting a kingdom back together was hellish work.

Nimona had never, ever worked so much. She wasn't immune to exhaustion, but it had been a couple of years since she'd felt so tired. Her muscles ached, her breaths were uneven, her head was spinning. She had been at it all day — rubble and ruins had been her only companions for the day.

But, she was satisfied. The kingdom had done most of the work already, all while she slept and rested, so it was only fair to help the people now.

Ballister stumbled into the kitchen, and he looked as tired as Nimona felt. Ambrosius entered behind him, talking and gesturing at his boyfriend. Nimona got up to say hi, used to their stupid bickering, but she quickly noticed something different.

Ballister's arm, exactly in the part where flesh met metal, was dripping something, something that looked and smelled too much like blood to be considered anything else. Ambrosius's concerns seemed to be, for once, actually important.

"You need to get that checked, Bal!"

Nimona jumped over the couch, and her thighs ached, so she turned into a wolf, and now her back ached. She could only wonder how Ballister — mortal, soft Ballister— would be feeling. If she was worn out, he probably was in the verge of death.

"It's nothing, Ambrosius"

She turned into a cat, and jumped on the table. Ballister and Ambrosius didn't even glance her way, making her worry even more. They usually stopped their fights out of shame when she was near.

"You're bleeding. It is something, and it's something to be concerned about!"

Nimona recognized it before any of them did. She saw that spark, that surge of electricity. Fatigued lovers in a quarrel? A recipe for disaster. Ballister's eyes hardened, and he faced Ambrosius, snapping.

"I was bleeding when you mutilated me, wasn't I? Well, I survived that. I'll survive this. You didn't seem concerned back then, did you?"

Ouch.

Ambrosius's face contorted into a mix of every possible expression, and he looked ready to puke. Ballister went pale. Nimona froze.

Ballister never referred to it as "mutilation", even if it was. He never brought it up, neither did Ambrosius, and they seemed to be doing just fine that way, so, she stopped bringing it up. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"That's not fair" Ambrosius muttered, but his eyes were too shiny, his voice too shaky.

Ballister seemed unable to come up with an answer, any answers, so he just turned around, and left. He picked that up from Nimona, probably. Run from your problems, until they catch up to you.

She ran behind him.

When they came back, it was dark. Ballister's arm had been healed by an actual medical professional; he was out of it, asleep on Nimona's hands, who didn't have a problem carrying their boss all the way back to his house.

She was even more tired, now. The place where Ballister had decided to live was on the outskirts of the city, one of the old Goldenloin houses, spacious and elegant.

They got in quietly, Ballister had given her a copy of the keys. He left his boss on the first room he came across, too drained to try and find Ballister's actual room. It was somewhere in the second floor, and she didn't feel like navigating the maze of halls.

She looked at the resting man, and smiled. Ballister needed to rest — even if it was on a drug-induced sleep, at least he was sleeping.

Life could be peaceful, sometimes.

Someone screamed in the kitchen. She suddenly remembered that Ambrosius did, in fact, exist. She turned into a cat, again, since it was the form that ached the less, and ran to the kitchen, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Sure, she wasn't fond of the blond, but his dead would definitely have a horrible impact on her boss's life.

He was pathetic. She'd seen people drink themselves to death countless times, but at least they looked like they were having a great time. Ambrosius was just sobbing uncontrollably, quietly, kneeling down, while he tried to pick up the pieces of a broken glass utensil. She chuckled to herself, relieved and amused. What would the kingdom think of their perfect little hero, now?

A hero that wasn't stopping. A hero that didn't manage to put the pieces together. A hero that didn't look at her when she called out to him. A hero that, at the sound of her voice, suddenly pressed the pieces together. A hero with bleeding hands.

Her brief relief left as soon as it came. Ambrosius wasn't reacting. She called out for him again, using his actual name this time. He started hyperventilating. She took a step forward, and his sobs turned into silent tears. The kitchen was full with the smell of burnt food.

"Goldenloin!" She demanded, changing back to her human form, confused. Ambrosius had never acted like this before. They didn't even like this idiot, but it felt wrong, to look at the weeping mess. Ambrosius should be a jackass, a self-absorbed moron; that's how they worked. He said something stupid and she laughed. They mocked each other. They fought over Ballister, they argued and ignored the other.

But she couldn't ignore this, could she? That was how they got into this mess. Ballister ignoring the situation. Ambrosius ignoring the past.

Ambrosius finally looked up, hie eyes bewildered and unfocused. He wasn't here. He was pale, sweaty. Nimona decided that, perhaps, this was too much to ignore. Jokes and harsh decisions wouldn't get them out of this one.

"Hey, man" she whispered, unsure of what to do or say, "It's me. Nimona. The boss is fine. Just... needs rest. That's it"

Ambrosius kept looking at her, his already slit eyes looking even smaller, puffy from all the crying. She moved forward, lifting a hand. He flinched, shrinking in on himself, closing his eyes.

Oh.

Something in their rib cage moved. She simply kneeled down too, slowly placing her hand on Ambrosius's shoulders. He kept on shaking.

"Dude. Your hands. Blood. Com'on. Let's get some bandages"

He didn't say anything. It was up to Nimona to get him to stand up, directing him around. She left him on the couch, running quickly for the first aid kit. He didn't move, just staring at her like she was some sort of puzzle.

She worked in silence, picking out what she needed, opening up the alcohol. It was a methodical thing she'd done a million times before, for Gloreth.

She chuckled, again. What would Gloreth think of her little descendant? Of how he trembled when someone raised a hand? Of his fear, and his love?

They stayed that way for enough time to get Ambrosius's wounds cleaned and patched up.

"Bal" he whispered, breaking the stillness of the room, "Ballister. He's fine?"

"Fine as can be" she answered back, shrugging, "Took him to the hospital"

They both looked at each other, uncomfortable.

"Thanks" Ambrosius mumbled, looking somewhere over Nimona's head, "For, well, everything"

He vaguely gestured at himself, and she smiled.

"That's my job, man. Take care of Ballister's business"

He inhaled at this, sharp and hurt. Tears gathered in his eyes, without falling.

"I don't plan on that staying way. I'm moving out. Bal and I... we should break up"

"Yeah, totally" Nimona blurted out, automatically.

Ambrosius sniggered at her answer, blinking too many times. Nimona blushed in embarrassment.

"No, I mean- I don't like you. But Ballister does. I think"

"After what he said today? I don't think so"

"I like to believe" said Nimona, remembering childish play and soft hugs, "that you can say mean things to people you love"

"You do it often?"

Ambrosius's tone was incriminating, condemning. She wanted to scream at him, tell him that not as often as he did, judging by the amount of mini fights Ballister and him had.

Then, she thought about his trembling frame, huddled over himself to search for comfort.

"No. It's done to me often, though" Her eyes burned, so, she tried to change the topic quickly, "what were you even doing in the kitchen? Never seen you there"

"Aside from having a heart attack?" He laughed bitterly, closing his eyes, "Trying to have some food ready for Ballister. Turns out, I have no idea on how to cook"

The awkward silence returned. Nimona started to drift away.

Ambrosius suddenly got up, and Nimona was too tired to go and search for him, again. He came back, balancing a bottle of wine and two glasses. The bandages got redder and redder by the second.

"You're immortal, right?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. When Nimona nodded, he smirked, "That means you're above drinking age"

Nimona was, in fact, able to handle her alcohol. She'd been around for centuries, learning a couple of tricks over the years.

Ambrosius poured them both an acceptable amount, smiling even more. Then he took a swing, straight from the bottle, before setting down again.

"Even if he does love me" he explained, moving his hand in an arch, "I am, clearly, not the best suitor for your boss"

"I think he should get to decide that, truly"

Ambrosius lifted his eyebrows, amused. Nimona usually told him to leave Ballister alone five times per day.

"My mom had a lot of partners" he confessed, before swallowing the contents of his glass in a swift movement, "They all chose to be with her. She was shitty to most of them. Perhaps it's inherited"

Ah, yes. The Goldenloins and their very good communication skills.

"Your great-great-really-great-grandma was a shitty friend to have, too"

"That helps me feel so much better. Thank you very much"

"Hey, man. I'm not really interested in the whole 'helping' thing"

But her body still ached, Ballister was still asleep and Ambrosius was still here, downing glass after glass as if the wine would run away from him at any second.

"I guess Goldenloins are just fucked up people, uh? We ruin everything we touch"

Nimona shrugged, "I'm not gonna debate that. But, you know, maybe it's time for you to start fixing the stuff you break"

Ambrosius smiled, and this time he looked a little less like a dying man and more like a recovering one. He lifted up his almost empty glass, and they toasted to that.

The last thing Nimona heard before falling asleep was the start of a cooking tutorial on Ambrosius's phone.

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