#mythvoiced ( ambrosius. )

[stillresolved]

It's symbolic, whenever he and Ballister narrowly meet each other from these two different fronts they've taken on in a battle he'd never dreamed of seeing, not even in his worst nightmares, to be anything but at eye-level.

Ambrosius stares up at a shape he hates to call villainous, the menacing silhouette, the distance Ambrosius is himself participant in creating, and feels the squeeze of it in his chest.

"Bal!" he shouts, because as much as Bal doesn't seem able to stop whatever crazy crusade he's set himself on, Ambrosius can't let him go on it.

"Can't we talk? Can't we try to talk? Just once?" a pause, a harsh breath under widened, pleading eyes, shortness he can't justify, because he doesn't feel physically exerted... as much as he feels always on that precipice his heart is hanging from.

"Here," he throws his sword to the ground, symbolic and idiotic, and a reminder of what he did with it. He grimaces. "Let's talk."

((ONE FOR THE KNIGHT EXES!!!!!!!!! for some bizarre reason I feel like I've written something similar already SO FORGIB ME IF IT'S REPETITIVE OF SOMETHING OF THE PAST 🥺 also hope it makes sense, wasn't so sure about the writing here, MWAH ♥ ALSO HOPE IT'S NOT GOD-MODDY? to yknow idk i had this visual of Ballister 'having the high ground' Obi-wan style so hope it's okay~?))

@mythvoiced / so he picked violence today....

Oh Ambrosius. 

Bright-eyed, righteous, level-headed Ambrosius. Sweet, loving, hopeful Ambrosius.

That’s why Ballister was drawn to him, all those years ago, wasn’t it? Because Ambrosius, heir to the heroine herself, beloved child of the Kingdom, always saw the best in people and Ballister only knew the worst of people. Lived as if he only expected the worst of people.

Loving Ambrosius was an exercise in faith. Faith that against all odds, things would turn out okay. Even if the nay-sayers said Ballister would one day end up in the very prison cells they used to lock away the criminals threatening the good of the kingdom. Even if the nay-sayers said Ballister was only using Ambrosius for extra points with the queen. Ambrosius always told him to ignore those voices. Words said out of love, out of encouragement, Ballister knows, but how could he say such callous words when Ambrosius has always lived his life, knowing who he is, knowing what his destiny would always be?

( And to some degree, Ballister will only admit when he is alone, it came true. The faith that Ambrosius believed so fervently in did bare fruit. Or at least, it should've, if not for– )  

How? Ballister has always wanted to ask him- how did it feel to step forward in life, always knowing the summit would be the inevitable destination? What was it like, knowing that even if he did stray from the path a little, his destiny would still be there waiting for him, like an armor waiting for its knight to slip into the shell?

The ground shakes beneath them. Ballister keeps his feet planted on the ground as part the wall begins to crumble. Lower, at its foundation, a pink dragon metaphorizes itself into a rhinoceros. A speedier steed as the knights of the kingdom charge at her. Nimona will be able handle them by herself for the time being, but soon, Ballister will join her. The mastermind, hand in hand with the heart of the crusade. 

For now, there is another matter, one in the shape of his beloved a hero of the realm to contend with. A knight, it seems, who foolishly approaches Ballister, not as an enemy, but as a lover. Ballister tries not to let it show: the way his fingers twitch around his sword. When was the last time someone had called him Bal?

It doesn’t help that Ambrosius is looking upon him, pleadingly, like he knows, believes that Ballister will be a better man. Ambrosius, the hero of the realm, the champion of justice, light, and most of all peace. Ambrosius, who looks at Ballister like he is still that man from three years ago, a man who is better than the crude means of plundering and vandalism and violence he has sunken to.

Ambrosius is a man who sees the best in people. Sees and believes in the best of everyone. That is why he is considered the HOPE of the Kingdom, one who speaks and believes in the potential for peace and serenity in the realm for both humans and monsters alike. 

Ballister watches Ambrosius throw his sword to the side. Gloreth’s blade clangs against the ground– what scandal, what blasphemy, how far will the golden child fall now– the metal echoing against the cobblestones. Ballister keeps his grip steady around his sword with no intention of mirroring his love. Nor of sheathing said blade either.

However.

However much of a hero Ambrosius may be, he is still but one person in a system of thousands. And a system that keeps the walls of the Kingdom up, a system that declares monsters savages to be destroyed, a system that casts outliers like Ballister as no better than monsters themselves, is a system, which keeps the Kingdom at the top, that is inherently violent. 

“Talking won’t change anything. The Kingdom will never change unless something is done. You know that as well as I do– try speaking to the Director about the monsters as anything but vermin. She’s already closed her ears to any alternatives.”

Ambrosius can speak of peace and compromise all he wants, but the only thing that such a system will respond to, the only action that will bring about change is violence itself. 

Ballister points his blade at him, the man he once loved. “You’ve chosen your grave where you stand now, Goldenloin. Prepare yourself.”

[misassumed]

@mythvoiced sent in: " all of my wildest dreams, they just end up with you and me " - from Ambrosius >:3 (aLSO YOUR URL how!!!!! YOU'RE!!! SO GOOD AT URLS--!!!!!!!!!!!!) || lyric starters meme

Hasn’t that always been the case?

Ballister is no stranger to living life on the edge. Even before their death, all it took was one accident, one mistake to tank the savings his parents spent months building up. Their community was not much better either. Funds saved up to improve infrastructure, the community center, the mosque could disappear without any warning. 

And then one accident, one accident was all it took to take his parents and then his home.

And still, he dreamed, dreamed of standing at the side of the Kingdom as a hero of the realm.

Even when the queen inducted him as a squire, he could never find better footing. He knew; one mistake, that’s all he needed if he wanted to be put back in the streets. And yet that dream, his dream never strayed far. Stayed so close to him every time he reached for it, he could feel it, like silk, between his fingers before it to slipped away.

He thought being with Ambrosius would have been like that too. At first, it was a pipe dream- being friends with the descendent of Gloreth, herself? Impossible. Ambrosius falling in love with him? Gloreth’s descendent wouldn't do that. Dating and building a life with Ambrosius? A life that both Ambrosius and the Kingdom would approve of?

Only a fool would dream to do so.

And yet.

And yet, it had all been in Ballister’s hand, once upon a time. So close, sometimes Ballister’s phantom arm twitches at the thought of it. Silk, golden white like Ambrosius’ hair resting between his fingers. Sometimes Ballister doesn’t dare to move his arm in those moments because what if it still was all possible? Maybe if he’s careful enough, this time, it won’t slip away-

He’s only deluding himself. The world isn’t meant to be draped in sheets of white silk and Ballister doesn’t believe it’s all gray or varying shades of black either. It doesn’t have to be- Nimona taught him that- that splash of PINK on an otherwise pristine canvas.

Why should he have to keep chasing a future, a dream that keeps running away when he catches up?

He won’t do it anymore. He can’t, even if it’s Ambrosius who beckons him to come back. He won't trade a clad of black armor sprinkled with specks of pink for the pristine white and gold banner one he longed to wave once upon a time.

The day Ballister left the Kingdom, three years ago, he set aside that dream. Broke it in two alongside the life he once shared with Ambrosius. No more. No more.

( Even if he cried, staring at the remains of them. What they were. What they would have been. )

Now there’s only them, surrounded by the ruckus. And Nimona, in the back, picking off Ambrosius’ backup with generous strokes of her claws.

“Don’t say that, Ambrosius. You- you of all people don’t get to say that to me,” Ballister says, finally. The sword held by his mechanical arm feels heavy as he points it at his beloved enemy. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”