#Because He Loves Bal or whatever

[arcxnumvitae]

The Inevitable

How he'd missed his beloved...! The burning, searing urge within him that had festered over the days and weeks meant that the paltry guard that stood between him and freedom from the quarantine area meant nothing. The trek towards the palace, always in the direction of the palace, meant nothing.

The only thing that mattered was the lone figure that had appeared in the distance approaching him.

Mhoirbheinn's mind, deep in the Corruption's clutches, only knew the desire to be with Bal again, to hold him again, to feel his lover's touch. To grant his love the gift of hearing It's Voice like him. Balmoral did not want to accept his gift, but that was alright. He would thank him eventually.

Words flew first, then blades. A brilliant clash of two who knew each other's skills like the back of their own hand. Yet Bal had never fought against his lover so uncaring of his own safety. Blows that could be dodged or parried, Mhoirbheinn leaned into, all for the chance to catch his love off guard. All it would take was one touch.

Words and concern for his Protector's safety had affected Bal, and Mhoirbheinn had grinned with delight. One last move, his own blade turned towards himself and thrust towards his heart, was all it took to cause Bal to abandon his own defenses and leap forward in a panic. It was there that Mhoirbheinn got him.

He tossed his own blade aside and lunged for Bal, sending them both crashing down to the ground. Straddling the man below him with a savage grin, Mhoirbheinn's hand pinned Bal's wrists above his head, and a manic light gleamed in his own eye. Using his other hand to grasp Bal's chin, Mhoirbheinn bent down and stole the other's lips in a fierce, longing kiss. Bal's eye fluttered closed as Mhoirbheinn deepened it, and a surge of glee raced through him at his lover willingly accepting his touch.

He had finally managed to grant Bal his gift.

[palskippah]

Hi! Over the last few months I've made these drawings of my Goldenheart fankid :D

He's Cyrus Goldenheart and he's my newest coolest baby and I love him very much.

Some stuff about them under the cut! And also other things and more drawings sjsj

-First off, know that Cyrus is his English name, because in Spanish he's Ciro Goldenheart- because Ambrosius is Ambrosio in the hispanic dub and that's very cool (also, I'm glad they didn't change Ballister's name to Trabuco and just left it as Ballister askdjsa)

-Also, I love the headcanon that in this universe family names come from the mash-up of last names to whatever sounds coolest. So Ballister and Ambrosius picked the last name Goldenheart (they could've been Boldloin but both were like hell no- And in Nimona's humble opinion, they were cowards)

>ALSO did you know that in the Latin Hispanic dub Ambrosius calls Ballister 'Balli' instead of 'Bal'? It makes it seem much more like a pet name and I love it.

>Also, headcanon that Ballister calls Ambrosius 'Ambrosito' when he's being particularly corny. (It works as a diminutive of his name with the -ito but also, osito means 'little bear' in Spanish, so it's a very cool pet name)

>Also, Ambrosoli, because that's a Chilean candy company, and I think it's funny.

>Now, since they're famous as knights and whatnot, imagine that Goldenheart was the name in which their fans referred to them as a couple- (I know that Balli had been considered a villain and an awful person and stuff after being framed, but I bet his fans came back after the movie ending and whatnot :''v) and then they got married and became the Goldenhearts for real, and people were like YEAH WAHOO bc they love them.

-Years after the movie, and after Nimona coming back and all the fixing their relationship thing, they got married and all, and had planned to adopt a kid some years later (because Ballister didn't want to have any babies himself), but then they found out they were expecting and were like 🧍🧍 (maybe my guy got too nervous and made the wettest wet cat eyes ever and that made Ambrosius be like Balli, it's okay, don't worry D: let's talk about this)

>Anyways there was the thing of do we have them or not, and then they had a conversation, like:

(Ballister, still with his puppy-under-the-rain eyes) "...do you want them?" (Ambrosius makes some noncommittally noises) "Do you?" "But do you?" "But do you? You should decide" "Yeah- I just want to know your opinion." "Yeah, but it's your body." "Yeah, but I wouldn't raise them alone, both of us would. Do you want a baby right now?" "But I don't want my opinion to affect your opinion, because you would have the baby and I know how you feel about that and I don't want my decision to affect your decision because it should be your decision... So, what's your dec-?" "For Gloreth's- Stop saying decision! (Ambrosius' stupid attempt at lifting the tension was successful, because Ballister's laughing) Do you want them, yes or no?" "Yes I do, but only if you want them too, and if you don't that's alr-" "I think I do!"

>Then, later that day, there's Ambrosius' like, so... are we going to have a baby? (doubtfully) and Ballister's like I don't know :( (apologetically, because he genuinely doesn't know pipipi)

>So anyways, after some more days of thinking (because he had the final say in it, of course), Ballister's like yeah let's have them and they're both like WOO WE'LL HAVE A BABY :D, and Nimona's like HA! You'll get huge! And congrats too, I guess, when she's told.

>And then like eight months go past and Nimona's like HA! I knew it! and Ballister's like shut the fuck up >:( I'm not in the mood right now and Nimona's like (waving her hands) fine, chill, boss. i'll make the joke later then. And Ballister stares blankly and goes ...thanks (y'know those silent stares he does like three times in the movie?) (I want to write down all the expecting headcanons I got but whwhwh)

-Ambrosius' like we have to name them something with C, so we're A, B and C :D and Ballister's like yeah :D! so they look for names with C, that's their only requirement.

-Ballister and Ambrosius had a long as hell list with names with C and whenever Balli was like hey we should decide on one soon, no? D: Ambrosius was like yeah let's pick one :D, but it never led to anything because they couldn't decide.

>As a placeholder they called the baby Baby and then forgot about choosing a name, and then they were the same day in the clinic/hospital going through the list while holding their very much already born baby and being like this one? no- or this one? what about-? and the problem with having so many options was that they couldn't decide on one.

>They weren't truly that much of in a hurry, because they could name him later, but still they felt guilty because they had had several months to have that ready (literally everything had been ready for their baby's arrival, except his name)

>Finally Nimona, after taking a small peek at their list, was like, y'know what? he looks like a Cyrus, he reminds me of the sun, (bc he was wearing soft yellows and stuff, maybe, and the bed's sheets in which Ballister was lying were a light blue) and both Ballister and Ambrosius looked at their baby and considered the name. So, he's named Cyrus.

-The news refers to him as Baby Goldenheart though. Very cute baby, the public agrees on.

>Then there's the debate of which dad he looks like the most, and baby pictures are pulled from years back and they're like LOOK (posts a pic of baby Ambrosius with his Gloreth's descendant mom) THEY LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL (and they actually do, same eyes and nose, same curlier hair and round cheeks)

>Then when he grows up, he actually looks too much like Ambrosius, but also a tad bit like Balli (it's the black hair and eyebrows).

-Even after he's all grown up, his family still calls him Baby instead of his name. And he knows that if either of his dads call him Cyrus is because he probably fucked up.

-I have a headcanon for Ballister's father, he looked almost just like Ballister but had a more hooked nose and curlier hair, but same big eyes, also had a beard and stuff. The thing is that Baby has black, curlier hair too and people think it's just like a combination between Balli's dark hair and Ambrosius' curlier hair BUT NO it's his grandpa's 😭 pipipi

(Translation) Blackheart (in my head he's Blackheart idk why ashjds maybe Boldheart had been his unmarried name, and Balli changed his to that alongside his name): My love, you're the prettiest girl with that cloak! <3 Kid Ballister: Abba, but I don't want to be the prettiest girl :c Blackheart, grabbing Balli's nose: The handsomest then! Kid Ballister: Hehe! (thinking about Bluey's laughter for this one pipipi)

>Also, know that Ballister's name was an inside joke between the two, were his abba had said he was his 'ballister' (the pillar that kept him upright) (they usually talked in Urdu, not in English, Balli had a better vocabulary than him from watching TV and going to an English-talking school), and Balli had burst out laughing, saying 'abba, it's baluster!' and his dad was like 'nope! I'm pretty sure it's ballister!' just to see his little girl still laughing.

>Anyways, then he got arrested and stuff and Balli changed his name to that, and then there's this moment a year later where, in jail, he sees his girl (now a boy) for the last time in the news, where they show him as he will start his training as knight and Blackheart's super happy because his son is actually alright (he had been worried sick about him all this time) and y'know, point is that he dies shortly after that and Ballister finds out years later when he tried looking for him D:

>(If you tell me but Kym, ballister is already the correct word, I'll tell you huh because I actually have no idea, you know I speak Spanish :'''v I tried translating Balli's name and it got corrected to baluster each time ajsdka)

>By the way, Ballister's scar over his eye is from when he had been like three and had fell against a sharp end, causing a slash and a lot of bleeding that had almost made Blackheart die from a heart attack. He had hurried to take him to the nearest health center, all while Ballister had been crying with his face all drenched in blood, and his dad had been genuinely thinking that his little girl was about to die from his carelessness (he hadn't been looking when Ballister fell).

>The slash over the eye is the reason he knows for sure that that's his child on TV, standing beside the Queen.

>Anyways, I love angsty headcanons with parents.

>Got another headcanon that Ambrosius got two moms, both don't spend much time with him from being too busy, but they love their son dearly (and y'know that Ambrosius' voice actor said that the Director was his parental figure? Maybe since his moms weren't around much, he started to look up to her as a mother and- wa, IT'S JUST I read a headcanon/theory (?) about the Director grooming Ambrosius for her benefit and it made a lot of sense 100/10).

>Ambrosius' moms are cool, although they did sort of force him to start his training to become a knight when he was of age to go into the Institute (he either went to knighthood or the family business, his knight mom (who's currently retired from knighthood and working at their family company) showed him her cool sword to lure him in, and his businesswoman mom showed him some colorful statistics- of course the sword won), but he ended up loving knighthood (despite everything), so he doesn't hold a grudge against that.

>(wait i remembered that Korean tradition of sitting babies of a certain age in front of objects so they choose one and that dictates how they'll be in the future? pipipi)

>Random headcanon, but Ambrosius is actually a blond and dyes some parts a darker color to achieve the cooler hairstyle. Also, the 'every descendant of Gloreth was/is/gotta be blonde' is interesting and gives place for analysis and stuff, but I've got this one where every descendant of Gloreth has somewhat of bunny teeth or a silly smile, and that's better in this case because I don't have to make Baby a blond- but his smile, when he's older, reminds Nimona of Gloreth's.

-Baby is a sweetheart with absolutely everyone. He smiles and coos nicely whenever people try to entertain him.

>Except with Todd. Whenever he sees him he spits up his milk and Ballister's pretty sure that it's a very weird coincidence, but Ambrosius and Nimona hold up a debate, convinced that the hate for punchable faces must be genetic and untaught, given that Todd had always been nice with Baby. Ballister throws Nimona a look and she says, my trauma, my jokes, Boss. And Ballister has to reluctantly agree and accept that he can't argue with that.

>Headcanon too that Ballister had called his father abba (looked it up and that's a fond way to call fathers in Urdu, if I'm wrong sorry :'v), until he was arrested and eventually died, so he taught Baby to call him abba too, and Ambrosius taught Baby to call him daddy, and even in adulthood he calls them that. And then there's Nimona who tried to teach him to call them Boss and Goldie, but she never succeeded.

(Imagine Nimona and Baby sat in front of eachother on the floor of the living room or something) Nimona, who had turned to look like Ballister, pointing at themself: Who am I? Baby: Abbababa- (he's a lil confused but he got the spirit, he's getting there in understanding askjdsad Ambrosius is currently Dadada) Nimona: No, Baby, Boss! Boss, say boss! :D Baby: Abbababa (happily reaching for him) Nimona: No, Boss! I'm your boss! (a cutesy tone) I'm Boss, Baby! Yeah, who's a cute baby? :D It's you! (then she got distracted and started playing with him)

-Nimona is Baby's sibling/cool aunt/mentor/bad influence/babysitter/something something. She's not a Goldenheart (and she doesn't want to be, she's just Nimona) but she's happy to be a part of their family anyway.

>They're the Goldenhearts + Nimona :''v

>Also yeah, Nimona is Ballister's sidekick/child/lil' sibling/friend/little menace/something something. The point here is that they love and care for each other very much <3

>Also, Nimona is Ambrosius' first ever, #1 hater, and he doesn't blame her for that. (They got a cool relationship though, like they like to bicker and wrestle with each other, and Nimona always wins because Ambrosius isn't very trained in fighting snakes, crocodiles or gorillas or any weird animal for that matter) Both love Ballister and that's sort of their main point in common, among other things.

-For a very long time, Baby had thought that in the world existed several pink creatures named Nimona, just as several adults named Daddy existed, and many kids like himself were named Baby. His Abba's the only one named that though, it seems. Then, when he's like three, he starts to realize that Nimona is just one person, and that apparently his Daddy and Abba's names weren't that. Abba's name wasn't even Boss, like he had suspected, and Daddy's wasn't Goldie. And then, as if that wasn't enough for the day, they tell him your name is Cyrus. Imagine his surprise.

-Baby is a daddy's boy for real and he loves both of his dads so so much :'v He also loves Nimona very dearly.

>He sees both of his dads being affective with each other and he copies that, as well as other things. Holds Balli's face to look into his eyes directly (he doesn't know that what Ambrosius does is just touch their foreheads together), he smacks his mouth against Ambrosius' face, harshly, and leaving him full of drool as he tries to bite him (doesn't know how to kiss yet, but when he figures that out he's always giving them), smacks Nimona's head with his little hands (he's trying to pet her hair, like he usually sees his abba petting the pink creatures) and all that. He's very sweet I'm telling you waa :'''v

-Ballister and Ambrosius try not to make Nimona take care of Baby too much, but Nimona herself looks for chances to take care of him.

>Also when he had been just born, of course Ballister and Ambrosius were all sleep-deprived and busy, so she would transform to look like either of them and Baby wouldn't tell the difference. If all, he was happy when all of a sudden there were two of either of his dads :''v

-Dumb headcanon that when Baby cried at night, they usually went 'ro-sham-bo' about it, and every single time they do the same hand gesture, and at the fifth or fourth (depending on how tired he is), Ambrosius will go ah fuck it >:( and just stand up himself to see what Baby needs. This happens way too much, and Ballister knows, and Ambrosius knows too. Baby doesn't but he's glad that every time he cries, it's very likely that his daddy will show up after a while.

-I'm thinking that Ballister would be that kind of dad that used to be afraid of holding his baby when they were a newborn, and then plays with them roughly when they stop being too fragile.

(Translation) First part Ballister (walking): Okay- Careful... (First day out of the clinic) Second part: Ballister: Do I throw him your way, Nimona? Nimona: Yeah, throw him!

-Ballister is one for darker clothes and all that, but when they found out about Baby, he started getting the most colorful clothes for them. Whenever he went out for whatever reason during those months, he came back with at least one piece of clothing, be it a onesie, a pair of socks, a hat, or some cute overalls. Baby's clothes drawer had already been overflowing with clothes just a few months before he had been born, and they had to get another one to fit in all the clothes because Ballister refused to stop getting more.

>Something something him only using darker clothes since he was a little kid and his dad not being able to afford him a bigger wardrobe and wanting to give Baby all the stuff he didn't have - thinking about my mom in this sense, she said she had bought me so many cute clothes when I was a baby bc she had had to share all her clothes with her sisters and their clothes had never been that nice bc of money and :'v

-Broskii I got more headcanons from when they were expecting Baby and I want to tell them all to you BUT I gotta make another post exclusively about that pipipi

-I know that the creator of Nimona said that the Institution most likely got dissolved, but I think this thing works as the cops and police of investigations and stuff, so maybe they didn't dissolve it, but rather stated new policies and values to be taught to the current knights and also to the future generations. And this change still takes a lot of time to happen but it does happen so- yippie ?

>Sorry I say this just so Ballister and Ambrosius can still be knights pipipi. Ballister is Sir Goldenheart and Ambrosius is Captain Goldenheart.

>With that, comes this thought that Nimona gave a knife to Baby once and was like, be free, my child! like taping a knife to a roomba, and then Baby used it like a sword and ran happily to show his dads that he too was cool and had a very big knife like they do when they use their shiny clothes.

>(debating this one bc yeah Nimona loves chaos and hurting people and breaking stuff but she definitely wouldn't like Baby hurting himself, but I still drew this waa I love when babies want to be like their parents)

(Papi means daddy)

-When Baby grows up, he isn't very passionate about becoming a knight (like Ballister had been) and neither of his fathers were keen on forcing him on knighthood (like it happened to Ambrosius), so he dosn't become a knight when he's older, and takes an interest in sciences (blitzmeyer mentioned?? I know her design was used for the queen, but I don't care I'll fit her here one way or another she's my fav scientist) and goes to college and all that, he also likes mechanics and overall stuff that Ballister likes.

>And it's definitely because his abba had been talking to him about this stuff whenever he could (because he loves this stuff, and even before Baby was born, and since they were supposed to talk to the baby so they could recognize their voices, Balli just rambled about this and that, and sometimes even narrated what he was currently working on and stuff :'''v Expecting Headcanons my beloveds)

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are like: Yeah, see? Even he agrees (about him forgiving Ambrosius a tad bit too quickly, even if both knights had been manipulated and stuff), while Ballister doesn't know if to be exasperated that they don't let the topic go, or laugh because it's pretty amusing how offended Baby is in his behalf over something that happened nearly five years before he was even born.

>Eventually they have to explain everything that surrounded the whole thing and Baby feels actually a tad bit bad for getting as angry as he got at Ambrosius. He's like oops sorry daddy 🧍(I'm still petty though)

>Baby hadn't talked much until he was around three or four, usually just answering things or repeating stuff whenever his dads tried to teach him new words, but then one day he answered a very long rant from Ballister about animals (nerd, had said Nimona) with more animal facts and both Balli and Nimona were like :0 And since then Baby hadn't shut up, and he's always talking.

> Since they share interests, he and Ballister talk a lot about stuff (Balli is like nice, there's two of us now, because Nimona doesn't have it in themself to listen to him talk 23348 hours about one thing, and Baby actually responds with yapping of his own, unlike Ambrosius who is glad to attentively listen to him for hours but doesn't do much more than be receptive of the information most times pipipi) (y'know when someone is talking passionately about something that they like but you don't, but you're happy to hear them talk anyways? that thing sjdj)

(is yapping the correct word? Over at TikTok they use it as talking a lot, so I picked it from context, I hadn't really looked up if it's correctly used sdjksd)

-Baby is a simultaneous bilingual and learned English, Urdu and Korean from his dads and Nimona.

>With this, I'd think Ambrosius was one too (given that he was exposed to English and Korean since he was a baby), but Balli had had to learn English when he was past three maybe since his dad hadn't been very good at it and had mostly spoken in Urdu? Not sure how languages would work in the kingdom, but I guess it's the same as countries where there are different dialects or languages in different regions. (? La verdad no sé, toy chamuyando skjds)

-When he's 14 he gets a growth spurt as expected but then gets even taller than Ballister, and Nimona finds it hilarious (she got surpassed in height two years ago) And he was expected to be tall anyways because both his dads were tall too, but Ballister was like c'mon >:(

-When he got old enough and learned about the whole Queen's death thing, he spent the whole afternoon throwing Ambrosius angry looks, arms crossed and all. And after a beat of silence, he'd suddenly say: No, and you know what angers me the most? and then would ramble about literally everything the man had done wrong at that moment, all while Ambrosius himself nodded in agreement. Then Baby would say (to Balli): You forgave him way too quickly, abba, I would've burned his house down or- I don't know- but how?! And just like that?!

-Nimona was determined on teaching Baby all she knew, and Ballister was like yeah it's okay if he turns out like you, but turned out that Baby is the most chill kid ever actually, like he lacks this wish for mayhem that many kids have, like Nimona hoped he'd have (like she expected the antichrist/chucky or something). In execution, at least, because he has great ideas, if Nimona's willing to make them true.

Baby, about seven: Nimona, and what if *a plan in excruciating detail of the most deranged nature* Nimona: HEHE YEAH >:D Let's do it! Baby: No, but you do it :) Nimona: huh ??

>And this is because he knows that Nimona can do all this better and he thinks it's funny to watch her wreak havoc, while also not getting in trouble himself. (His dads tell him be a good kid and he's like yup I'll be a good kid c:)

-Nimona draws Baby like a little star because he's small (plus there's Ballister drawing over her drawings, thinking about him picking Nimona's drawing habits of scribbling on top whatever comes to mind)

(Nimona's saying: make your own drawings! while trying to push him away, and Ballister's laughing - their arms are like in a weird position that in my head made sense shdjdh)

-Plus here's a drawing of Nimona having cat behaviors (becoming a loaf anywhere) (ronroneo means purring).

>When Baby hadn't been born yet, she'd loaf right over Ballister's belly and simply sleep or make biscuits sometimes, and when he tried to take her off himself, she'd try to not use her claws but she'd grab against his shirt anyways, going BUT BOSS- Baby and me are chilling! And this translated as Nimona loafing on top of Baby whenever he's quiet enough, after he's born.

-I made another post about the comic versions of Ballister and Ambrosius on TikTok, and added a comic version of Baby too, following the logic on his current design (Balli's hair and eyebrows, Ambrosius' nose and eyes, and all that)

>'Papito Corazón' in other countries means a very good, diligent father (? I think), and at least in Chile is used sarcastically for men that are emotionally or financially neglectful with their children 😭 Comic Ambrosius is one at the beginning, but he becomes a better father later on, promise sdjsjd

>This Baby had a hard time recognizing Ambrosius at the beginning because they didn't spend much time together, and Baby has no object permanence yet.

>Anyway, Ballister and Ambrosius aren't a thing here, it was sort of a enemies-with-benefits kinda situation that led to Baby :'v

>(also know that I haven't read the comic yet, so if this seems ooc I agree with you, because I really don't know these characters askdjsa sorry)

-ALSO here's the first drawings I made of him before settling on this design, also it's from when I was trying to draw Nimona sjjs

>He had brown hair instead of black, but the rest is all almost the same.

And that's it so far!

If you read till here, I hope you liked it!

Have these sillies kissing, it's from a video I did 🧍 Ambrosius gives Ballister 23783 kisses and Balli gives him one (1)

Also, the limit for images is 30, which is a shame because I wanted to add more stuff sjdjsd I'll make another post if I compile enough drawings to make a big post, or make that post about them expecting Baby

(I love the Nimona mains so so much, they're 24/7 in my mind)

[pawprintsonpavements]

My absolute most favorite nimona scene is ambrosius' little outburst in his head in the ufo plane thingy when the director asks him what's wrong

Because here's this dude, descendant of Gloreth, protector of the kingdom who has been basically brainwashed to do whatever it takes to protect his kingdom from any sort of "threat". We see it in the arm chopping scene, we see it when bal is standing in front of him, pleading him to trust him and ambrosius points his sword at bal and then they have that fight-

And yet, in the middle of this whole kingdom wide crisis this little baby is worried about what? About the fact that Bal has a new best friend and that aRM CHOPPING IS NOT A LOVE LANGUAGE.

I love his priorities

I love how completely crazy he's going over this in his head

I love the way the tempo of the scene slowly increases till ambrosius is screaming and then abruptly cuts back to reality

And I love love love how much Ambrosius loves Ballister.

Also special mention to the scene where right after ambrosius points his sword at bal he goes "you wanna know what she is?" And he and nimona are just so in sync it's beautiful that scene

Also special mention no. 2 to the scene where bal is standing over ambrosius with his sword and ambrosius goes "go ahead kill me too" and bal just goes "if you really think I'd do that then you don't really know me at all" because my hEART.

[starrycassi]

Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

[madlad-sadgal]

So I was re-watching Nimona for the I-don't-even-know-at-this-point time, as one does, and it got to the part where she's asking Bal if he's ever been over the wall and he's talking about the fact that going over the wall is basically a suicide mission, and it got me thinking...

Like I said in my previous post, everything about the realm (the wall, the institute, the toys, even the goddamn food) is built around/exists because of her. If it wasn't for her meeting Gloreth a millennium before, none of this would exist. Therefore...

Nimona knows that there is nothing beyond the wall. She knows that there is nothing to fear and that the wall is there to keep her specifically out (and it is doing a very poor job considering she is inside that very wall). So what she is basically saying is, "I know there is nothing to fear, but I want to see if you can really look at what you were taught and realize how shitty and non-sensical it is."

She is basically trying to see how much he actually believes in all the lies the Institute had told him. She asks him, "Have you even been outside the wall?" And honestly the phrasing kinda resembles, like, "Do you even know what you're doing?" Like when you know someone is doing something incredibly stupid, but they haven't realizes it yet and you're trying to make them realize it.

And Bal responds with, "Uh, yeah, because I have a death wish. NO!" He is not only telling her that he believes that whatever is beyond the wall is dangerous, but also that he has no solid proof that there even is something beyond it, and still chooses to believe whatever lie he was told.

So yeah, just a little something I realized and I am definitely reading into this too much, but oh well. I just love this little shapeshifting gremlin with all my heart is all ♥️

[kanzakurawrites]

Random Thoughts I Had While Rewatching Descendants 1

So I'm guessing Auradon is the size of Eurasia? Cause Europe seems too small, and most of the stories take place in Europe.

Are there Isle guards? I'm guessing because how else do the posters of Beast get put on the Isle?

Beast's crown looks so fake

So is that Ben's dorm room? Or is that his castle room? Is he a day student? (Which, considering he's becoming High King would be smart) I'm curious now

How many outdoor string lights do people in Auradon throw out?

HOW DOES THE ISLE HAVE ELECTRICITY? Are there villains dedicated to keeping it running? Actually, that would be hilarious, especially if that means people don't mess with them. OR they do mess with them and there are just frequent power outages. More likely, now that I think about it.

CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT MALEFICENT'S LETTER MAGNETS! Ha, what if Hades left them there and she just never threw them out? He seems more like the one to have letter magnets.

I don't care about the book timeline, the villains and core four all seem a lot more familiar with each other than just a few weeks or days or whatever. I'm saying its been months at least since the core four became a gang. If not a year.

I know its a Dcom, but I kinda wish that the villains weren't treated as comedy relief. Like, its implied that the kids aren't loved, that they are scared of their parents, but the way the parents are written... excluding the end with Maleficent, they don't seem that scary and all.

Seriously, there must be royal guards, right?

Really wish we had gotten to see the limo driver again.

Have to admit, I really like Ben's darker suit jacket. But why, why the yellow pants.

Ugh, I love Mal's D1 hair.

So... where are the magical people. "Most of us are ordinary royals." Yes, but, but, there is a lot of magic is Disney movies. Where have the magical people GONE. This is concerning.

Auradon Prep is FILLED with royal children, including the soon-to-be High King. The museum is filled with priceless magical artifacts. WHERE IS THE SECURITY. WHERE ARE THE GUARDS.

The beginning of Evil Like Me makes me want to hug Mal.

Are there NO SECURITY CAMERAS?? No other alarms??

WHY ARE THEY HAVING REMEDIAL GOODNESS OUT IN THE OPEN. That should be a PRIVATE class.

Ben, how did you not notice Carlos screaming?

How I wish they would have kept Evie's wavy/curly hair

I really wish there had been more Mal-Jay moments

They were in a public area. How did no one notice what was going on with Ben? DOUG WAS RIGHT BEHIND THEM

You know, none of Ben's classmates seem surprised by his love declaration. Or surprised by the "break up" with Audrey. Hmmm.

You cannot convince me that Ben didn't purposefully tell his parents about Mal right then JUST so he could have a picture of their reaction.

Baby Bal is so cute DX

Honestly, the Family Day fiasco was Audrey and Chad's fault KING BEAST

"No son, its yours." EXCUSE ME SIR

I wonder how much magical strength one must have in order to wield Fairy Godmother's wand. And I feel bad that Jane couldn't.

"I want to go to school. And be with Ben. Because Ben makes me really happy." Don't mind me just crying.

This whole scene makes me cry DX

"Gaston should be jealous." Ew. No. Stop. Creepy.

So whatever happened with the Jay/Audrey thing? I CANNOT be the only one who remembers the shipping days for them.

Other thoughts:

Nostalgia hits hard every time

I miss the D1 clothes! D2 and D3 felt more "costumey" if that makes sense. D1 feels more like... teenagers. And, at least for the Isle outfits, more thrown together. Not as polished, in a way.

I have to admit, kinda wish there was more Aladdin related stuff in the movie. You have Audrey and Mal, Evie and Doug, and Carlos and Dude, but no Aladdin-related characters for Jay? Sure, Aziz is mentioned in the books, and Jordan is in Wicked World, but still. Oh well.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons part ? (I don’t even know I lost count last week)

Ambrosius stopped wearing socks in the house

Because every once and a while he would walk around on their carpeted floors and then go to grab Bal’s right hand and get shocked 

He would jump away with a small curse while Nimona would cackle in the background   

Whenever Nimona wants attention or doesn’t get their way they make noises that they know annoy Bal and Ambrosius 

She’ll ask if she can pick the movie that night and Bal will tell her no cause she picked the last two nights 

And she let out the most annoying high-pitched “aaaaa” they’ve ever heard 

Whenever he gets bored and doesn’t want to terrorize the citizens he’ll make random animal noises and makes the boys guess what animal it is 

They’ve got good at telling a difference 

But it also leads to very weird sentences like “growl like a grizzly bear one more time and you’re grounded for a week young man” 

I feel like board games are hell for Bal 

This poor baby just wants to get through one normal game of Monopoly (or whatever off-brand game they were playing) 

And every time Nimona will find a way to turn the game on its head so she wins 

And Ambrosius the love of his life the apple of his eye the sunshine to his moonbeam plays along 

This man goes out of his way to make it difficult for him to win

He’ll twist the rules or come up with brand new ones on the spot that sounds so legit it makes Bal search for the damn rule book

There have been times when he’ll look Bal in the eyes and say “Sorry love the rules state that the leader of a successful coup wins the game” 

And he can’t even get mad cause Nim and Ambrosius have the cutest little matching smiles on their faces when they think they’ve successfully fooled him 

When Ambrosius cleans on a normal day it’s not uncommon for him to get sidetracked 

He’ll play music and he’ll sing or he’ll dance (or both if he’s feeling especially bored)

He’ll always manage to drag Nimona and Bal into it 

Sometimes when it’s just Bal and Ambrsius in the house he’ll play slower songs and drag Bal out into the living room and slow dance for a bit

When it’s Ambrosius and Nimona alone he’ll let her take over the aux and play her favorite songs 

When it’s all three of them together they have a little dance party 

I’ve seen so many videos making fun of Bals “amazing” sneaking skills and I feel like Ambrosius is good at hiding  

He’s been in the limelight from the moment he was born and there were times when he was sick of it

So he got good at blending into a crowd and sneaking 

It used to freak Bal and Nimona out when they first met him

When Bal first met Ambrosius he assumed that he would be a showboating prince of the school

And sure there were moments when he would play that part 

But that’s all it was a part 

When he’s out of his armor he’s quiet as a church mouse 

Bal got very used to hearing Nimona yell from across the house “fucking hell do we need to tie a bell to you or something make a noise Nemesis”

After she gets used to it she finds it kind of impressive 

Cause he’s able to sneak up on both her and Bal and they’ve both got really good hearing

It doesn’t take long for them to convince him to use his powers for evil

You see Bal has a bad habit of getting stuck in his head and when he does his reaction time is shit

So it's fucking hilarious to watch as he flails when Ambrosius snuck up on him a minute before 

It always gets a good laugh out of the trio and it gets Bal out of his head for the rest of the day

[walrus150915]

Goldenheart headcanons for when they have only started dating and were awkward as hell

(because I am a trans bi teenager who wants to experience mlm love yet can't because I'm afraid to date boys due to my dysphoria)

I noticed you people like when I make long posts like these and I love them too so I think I can share some hcs of mine about this stage of their relationship bc I have a lot honestly :]

- they started dating when they were around 16yo

- none of them actually had feelings for each other before puberty hit and they were like "damn my bestie is kinda fine- WHAT"

- Bal fell first. Ambrosius fell and broke the floor under him bc boyyyy did he fall HARD

- Bal navigated his feelings like "Ugh okay I guess that's what happens when you're friends with a handsome guy everyone has a crush on. That'll pass. That's part of puberty. Stay calm" meanwhile Ambrosius screamed in his pillow and freaked out and cried only to pretend nothing bothered him. It was hard to pretend when you literally study at the same academia/school/whatever and see each other every day bc you're best friends

- during the mutual pining era the PE lessons were DIFFICULT. Especially when they were put up against each other

- they look like friends who had no problem hugging/brushing each other's hair/being close physically in general yet when the feelings appeared, the things which used to be very easy turned torturous

- Ballister was the one to ask if Ambrosius saw that their friendship changed. Ambrosius couldn't hold it in anymore and mumbled through his confession so fast and awkward Ballister has only understood phrases like "I really like you" and "romantically I mean" and "you're very cool and that'd be sick if we became boyfriends"

- Bal turned his face to the side and muttered something like "yeah I think it would"

- and so they became boyfriends!!

- has something changed in the way they behaved around each other? Yeah but also not really. They were still besties and the physical contact became A LITTLE easier now that the sorta relationship they had was clear between them, but they just couldn't help but blush while touching each other

- their first kiss was a mess dude😭😭

- Ambrosius wanted it to go as smoothly as possible so he watched romantic movies and practiced kissing with his hand (embarrassing? Yeah I now) but when it was time to finally show off his skills he panicked and pressed his lips to Ballister's for a few seconds then his nose almost bled out bc of the nerves (not me projecting on Ambrosius but that's literally what happened to me when I had my first kiss)

- Ballister seemed calm about this whole thing but it doesn't mean he was. When they had their first ever date he brushed his teeth extra clear just to make sure he'd smell good during their first kiss. Bro was THRILLED

- basically Ambrosius was overthinking this and Ballister was... Also overthinking I'M SORRY THESE TWO ARE HORRIBLE

Now the headcanons are for the time when they've been dating for like more than a few months and have kinda got used to each other in this new ~romantic~ way

- Bal's way of flirting wasn't really obvious since he doesn't look like a guy who can come up with romantic compliments on the spot, however I think he touched Ambrosius if he wanted to express his feelings for him. Stroke his bleach-damaged hair, make their pinkies intertwine, put his head on his shoulder and nuzzle into him - this or he'd infodump new history/physics/chemistry facts he learnt

Bal: Okay, did you know that [some really complicated science stuff I cannot describe in words because I'm a literature major]

Ambrosius, heart-eyed, no clue what he's talking about: Wow that's really interesting anyways do you want me to change my surname to Boldheart-

- Ambrosius looks like a total theatre kid so I think he often flirted with Bal by quoting some love poems they had in their curriculum. Of course he quoted their analogue of Romeo's monologue under Juliet's balcony why do you think he wouldn't

- Having said that, whenever he quoted something which referred to a woman, he changed pronouns and general words bc he's attentive like that. Sometimes it got absurd tho. "Manservant of the moon" instead of "maid" like dude😭😭😭😭

- Ballister tried his best not to laugh but also not to pass out bcuz of the amount of praise his boyfriend gave him which was actually a lot. My man is as much of a mess as Ambrosius is let's not forget that

- one day Ambrosius quoted something which was not from the curriculum but instead from Bal's favorite book. I think Bal liked adventure books about knights which sometimes included romance and I imagine the dialogue going:

Ambrosius: "And even if I had to turn against the whole world to follow you-

Them together: "-I would do it with no hesitation-"

Ambrosius: "Because you are my world, Sir Redsword"

Them: *staring at each other*

Bal, all blushing: ...that's not from the books our teacher told us to read

Ambrosius, also blushing madly: Yeah but I figured I like some variety

- That's when Bal knew this guy was his forever soulmate

- Bal used to be taller than Ambrosius for a long time of their early years but then Ambrosius got late height boost or idk how it's called. Basically dude went from 5'5 to 6'1 overnight and I know Ballister was PISSED

- these two totally kissed in the janitor's closet when they needed some privacy I'm telling you (not even in a "steamy" way although I think some sort of tension existed - cmon they were late teens bro do you really think puberty is nice to teenagers???).

- why would you get a private space where you can explore this side of your relationship safely when you can have a literal closet with racks and mops and buckets, am I right

- Ambrosius tried writing poems for Ballister they SUCKED

- Ballister still saved each and one of them. One day, he'll sort through his things to move to his own place after the wall comes down and find these yellow checkered sheets of paper, full of bad rhymes and silly words. He'd bring all of them to his (and Ambrosius's) new apartment

Okay now the last hcs which I honestly have no idea how to call but umm ✨what people around them thought about their blooming romance✨

- Queen Valerin understood something was up on the spot. Like, for a straight woman, her gaydar worked flawlessly😭 it was enough for her to see them hide the fact that they held hands to go "I know what you are". She was pretty supportive although she did ask Bal on their one-to-one meeting to "use protection" like all moms do🖐

- The Director also knew something was up but her reaction was more like "Sir Ambrosius will grow out of it". As you know, he never did LMAOO

- Todd was hilariously oblivious despite teasing Ambrosius like "HAHA LOLLLL GOLDENLOIN WHY R U ALWAYS WITH THIS COMMONER GUY ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HIM OR SOMETHING". He did it in a cishetero "haha gotta mock my homie for being gay" yet DID NOT REALIZE his homie was, indeed, gay

- some cadets could pick up on it, some didn't

- anyway I think the general public knew nothing about it bc if they did that'd be a scandal worse than Henry the 8th's when he created a new religion bc his loins were on fire thanks to Anne Boleyn

ALSO GET THIS LITTLE PIECE (which I don't really like bc of the coloring choices) OF THEM :D

I swear Ambrosius isn't yellow irl😭😭 I'm myself asian I now better than that

That's about it I guess! Lemme know what you think (if you wanna use/adopt these hcs, feel free to do whatever you want with them! Just tag me so I could see it wjsjjajaj!!!!) ;3

[boiboiperson]

Recently watched Nimona and it was so fucking good. However I haven't seen anyone talking about a race/racism allegory I noticed. I might be reading too much into it but whatever.

Watching the movie I felt like parts of Ballister's character can be paralled to racism in the real world. While the whole thing about him being the first commoner to become a knight thing (forgot what they're called sorry) has the most parallels to classism, I also feel like it's a bit similar to POCs first being able to join groups and stuff. Also I know there were other POC knights before Bal I'm just seeing it as an analogy.

Also the way the media in the movie treated Bal gave a whole lot of "he's a terrorist" vibes. Idk how it is in other countries but here in the UK brown people are often unfortunately associated with terrorism. As a half-brown person imma assume many other brown Brits can relate with me in that I feel like instances of terrorism by brown people is often hyper focused on by the media and news whereas terrorism by white people is often ignored or is labelled as literally anything other than terrorism despite being so.

What I'm getting at is that the language surrounding Bal by the news reminds me of racism spurred by the hyper focus on terrorism by brown people. He's called a "villain". Villains are often thoughts to be evil in nature. This reminds me a lot of what racists say; "it's in their nature" or "that's just how them lot are". This can also be seen in how no other commoner is allowed to become a knight thing after the Queen dies; they believe that all commoners are like Bal so they created a further barrier between them.

I first noticed this allegory when Nimona says something like "they see you as a villain and me a monster" (don't remember it properly sorry). Nimona is a monster because she is something they don't understand, Bal is a villain because he is evil in nature just like others like him.

Alrighty this was very long but I just wanted to point out something I ended up hyper analysing. Personally I feel like this might be one of the best racism allegories I've seen in a while. Loved the movie, give it a watch if you didn't.

Edit: rewatched the movie and I just realised that when Bal was gonna take out the phone the Director went "he's got a weapon!" NAAAA THAT WAS INTENTIONAL

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

It's 8:22am on a workday which means it's time for me to share my Goldenheart nightmare headcanons (movie and comic bc you know I love all 4 of my traumatized men)

So all these bitches have nightmares. Let's just. Get that out of the way first, especially post-canon

M! Ambrosius:

Ever since the ceremony, he had nightmares about finding Bal's dead body. Up until finding out Ballister was alive, they happened practically every night, but they continued to pop up occasionally long after the two reconciled. He'd have nightmares about finding Ballister dead either after the arm chopping, or after Todd beat him up. The dreams are varying levels of abstract and graphic. Sometimes Ballister is awake and crying for him, but can't see him as he slowly dies. Sometimes he's angry at him and keeps telling him it's all his fault, sometimes he's halfway rotted.

Before the events of canon (as well as during and after), he would have a recurring nightmare where he would do something marginally wrong and the entire kingdom would collapse, like they were all depending on him. He's had this nightmare in some variant since he was little. It's actually similar to the dream the Director described, except instead of cracks appearing and letting the monsters in, it's Ambrosius fucking something up. He continues to have this nightmare occasionally even knowing there are no monsters outside.

Ambrosius was trained from a young age to be pretty stoic so he doesn't usually cry out in his sleep, but Ballister is a feather light sleeper (Ambrosius sleeps like the dead, even when he wants to wake up) and can tell from his mumbling and tossing and turning when he's having a nightmare, and will wake him up to console him and let him know that no, he's okay, he forgives him, he loves him, he doesn't have to be scared. They often have sex the next morning (if not right after) especially after a "Bal is dead" dream because it's therapeutic for them to share forgiveness and vitality

M! Ballister:

Oof. Yeah so, I can imagine that spending a prolonged period of time in extreme danger, wounded, with LITERALLY everyone out to get you would do wonders for a person's mental health.

A lot of Bal's nightmares are just resurfaced memories of him barely alive trying to survive all alone in the ruins he was holed up in. He blocked out most of that experience, so it comes back in dreams. These are obviously extremely upsetting memories.

In addition to memories, he also frequently has that nightmare where you're trying to escape some danger, and there are people all around but nobody can see or hear you ask for help. He has dreams where he gets executed, he has dreams where he sees Valerin and she's crying and asking why he did what he did, how could he do this to her, she loved him, she trusted him, and sometimes Ambrosius, Nimona, and the Director are all also there and calling him a monster. Sometimes they beat him up, sometimes Todd is there. He has nightmares that he didn't make it in time to save Nimona and the whole kingdom gets obliterated by the canon, and then he's all alone. Ambrosius and Nimona are dead.

He usually wakes up from these nightmares pretty quickly because as I said, light sleeper. Unfortunately Ambrosius is not a light sleeper and often doesn't wake up when he's having a nightmare. He does whatever he can to remedy this, though, which is one of the reasons he's always cuddling Bal. It's easier to detect movement and distress that way. After years of being in a relationship, and a lot of insistence from Ambrosius, Ballister is comfortable waking him up if he needs reassurance. When Ambrosius wakes up, he holds him, talks through his dreams with him, and massages his residual limb (phantom pain in his sleep often triggers the nightmares). Again, they will usually have sex the next morning. Slow, affectionate, weepy sex.

C! Ambrosius

This one has a variety of nightmares. More often than not, they're flashbacks to his fight with Nimona, sometimes with minor altered details. After adjusting to his disability, that started being present in the dream, which just made it even more terrifying. Sometimes Ballister is there watching him get killed while he screams for help. Sometimes Ballister is dead, he either got burned to death by Nimona or shocked to death by the other soldiers.

He has nightmares that he killed Ballister during the joust, those had been happening ever since the joust occurred. He has nightmares about Ballister chopping his arm off as revenge. His least favorite though, even more than the terrifying flashbacks, are the ones that feel real. In some, he's just going about his regular day and Ballister very casually mentions in conversation something to the effect of "What? Of course I don't love you. Why would I? Find you attractive? Have you seen yourself? Haha no thanks" and this is, of course, extremely upsetting. His most hated nightmares, though, are the ones where he "wakes up" and he's back at the Institution. He and Ballister never made up and he's expected to get up and go about his day and sign autographs and do whatever the Director wants and just exist in the hellish, loveless background radiation he'd spent fifteen years of his life in.

He's also more prone to night terrors, which he can never remember. He often speaks, walks, or screams in his sleep. One upside of the incomplete paraplegia is it keeps his sleepwalking under control, because he'll wake up from pain or falling.

Unlike Boldheart, Blackheart prefers not to wake him and to instead try to console him in his sleep whenever possible. This is because he's less likely to remember the nightmare at all if he doesn't wake up, and he truthfully doesn't like talking about nightmares because they're often upsetting to him as well. He'll hug him and whisper to him and rub his back or stroke his hair. This will usually work, but when it doesn't, he'll wake him up and offer reassurances. If Ambs was having one of those nightmares that feel like real life, he needs to be woken up.

C! Ballister

He has a lot of nightmares regarding betrayal, from either Ambrosius or Nimona or the Institution or his henchman or his father or all of the above (he has been backstabbed and abandoned MANY times). He has a lot of nightmares where he remembers the joust, but sometimes it's Nimona instead of Ambrosius, or sometimes Ambrosius is laughing when it happens, sometimes he has nightmares about the current Ambrosius harming or maiming him in some way in a fit of anger. Alternatively, he has nightmares where Nimona shows up at his house and at first he's so happy to get his friend back until he sees Ambrosius's bloody corpse behind her. He has nightmares about everyone hating him, like Boldheart does. Nimona calls him a traitor, Ambrosius calls him a villain, Blitzmeyer calls him a swindler and a lonely, pathetic man. He has nightmares about being too late to save Ambrosius from Nimona, or about her monster form killing him in front of him.

Ambrosius (a barnacle) always notices when he has nightmares and wakes him up stroking his hair and patting his chest. Unlike the other three characters on this list, he wakes up angry at Ambrosius at least some of the time. He will usually ask for some space so as to not take it out on his well-intentioned partner. He can't sleep on his right side to face away from him (it's the metal side and it's uncomfortable) so he'll flip onto his stomach so that the metal side is closer to Ambrosius, that way he can't really feel him there as much. Ambrosius will usually ask permission to hold his metal hand, which Ballister usually gives as he can't feel it much and it prevents his partner's abandonment issues from activating. Plus he thinks it's cute when he wakes up in the morning, no longer angry, to Ambrosius asleep holding tightly to it, with red marks on his cheek and wrists from effectively cuddling a hunk of metal all night.

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 7

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Chapter warnings: Claire being a badass, imposter syndrome, mutual pining, tooth rotting fluff, feelings, FIRST KISS!! There's also vague mentions of the former laughingstock of a US president (if you know, you know). He is not mentioned by name because I refuse to put his name in any of my work, but he is his usual "charming" self and no one likes him. All opinions spoken by Claire and Loki are my opinions and also fact, but I'm not trying to end up on an FBI watch list so take everything with a grain of salt. Also, do not come at me with political commentary, I'm literally just trying to have a good time and write y'all an entertaining story.

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me!

Four days until the wedding

The next morning, Claire was hating life. The mead, like the wine, was delicious, but good grief did it pack a punch. Claire trudged her way to the bathroom, barely keeping her eyes open as Ragna helped her clean up and dress, and would have flopped on the couch if not for the nausea.

Instead, she was doing her best impression of a corpse until she had no choice but to leave in order to get breakfast.

Loki was already there when she dragged her sorry ass into the great hall, giving her a knowing smile when she dropped into her seat beside him.

“I did warn you-”

“Don’t-” Claire grimaced, waving his smug face away. Her head began to throb from the loud commotion in the great hall, and she cradled her head, her eyes falling closed in relief. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“You won’t die,” Loki chuckled as he flagged down a servant to bring her wine. “Have some wine, it will help.”

“Not if I barf it up!” Claire whined.

“Humor me, won’t you?”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll do it for you,” Claire accepted the wine and swallowed a mouthful, groaning as her stomach complained loudly. “Are you sure I won’t die?”

“Positive,” Loki replied. “You need a good meal, and some scandalous gossip.”

“Oh my, is it about the prince and the soon-to-be princess who escaped the palace and spent the night drinking in a seedy bar?”

“Slightly more scandalous, which is truly saying something,” Loki snickered. “Have you seen Fandral today?” he muttered as he jutted his chin toward the other side of the great hall. “He’s acting...stranger than usual.”

“Is he?” Claire replied innocently as she glanced over at the man in question. To her delight, the arrogant man was squirming in his seat to the point his companions were all eyeing him warily. Even in her pitiful hungover state, she could tell what happening. “Interesting.”

“It’s as if...I couldn’t possibly speak of it- it’s inappropriate.”

“Tell me anyway,” Claire inched closer to Loki, hoping he would share whatever he was thinking. “You know I don’t care about propriety.” Loki patted her hand fondly. How could he forget?

“He’s behaving as though he’s picked up a disease,” he shook his head. “One obtained through...questionable behavior.” Claire gasped dramatically, leaning even closer.

“Surely you don’t mean…” she trailed off, resting her hand on his arm as they shared a meaningful glance. “Oh dear,” she said with false concern. “I hope he’ll be able to recover.”

“What have you done?” Loki asked without ire, looking at her expectantly.

“Me?” Claire balked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m certain you don’t,” Loki said casually, taking a sip of his wine as they watched Fandral squirm, now fidgeting so hard that his chair scraped loudly on the stone floor with each movement. It was causing quite a stir, and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the great hall. “Oh dear.”

“Poor guy must be itching for relief.” Claire snickered at her private joke.

“I knew it,” Loki chuckled. “What did you do?”

“I might have snuck itching powder into his clothes,” Claire admitted from behind her goblet. “I forgot to tell you about it last night.”

“When did you do this?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Claire replied guiltily. “I had some unsupervised free time and I used it to sneak into his rooms. Don’t look at me like that; it’s not my fault his staff just let me walk in.”

“That is quite devious of you, darling, but was it worth it?” His ridiculous question was punctuated by Fandral dropping his mead to grip the underside of his chair with both hands, now wiggling from side to side as he grew increasingly panicked.

“Of course it was worth it; look at his face!” Claire cackled behind her goblet. “Besides, his constant man-whoring is annoying. Did you know he’s slept with every one of my staff, apart from Ragna? Not that I blame them; who hasn’t fallen for a guy like that? Maybe now he’ll act like less of a lech,” her lip curled in disgust as Fandral began actively itching his privates. “Or not.”

“Color me impressed. Well done,” Loki murmured as a frantic Fandral scurried from the great hall, his body contorting in an odd dance as he itched himself all the way to the door and presumably beyond. “Perhaps it was a bit harsh.”

“He deserves it,” Claire tucked into her breakfast without remorse. “Especially with the way he treats you.”

“You did this for me?” Loki asked in surprise. “My lady, I am touched.”

“You’re welcome,” Claire nodded, drinking deeply from her wine. “I’ll teach that prick to mess with my man.” she grumbled to herself. Loki grinned, warmed by the sentiment. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Eating with one hand was a challenge, but Loki found he couldn’t be bothered to let go of Claire’s hand. And if he used his seidr to soothe her hangover, it was really no one’s business but his own.

~~~~

Frigga was convinced that something secretive was going on between Claire and Loki. Claire had improved significantly in her daily lessons over the last several days, and during her appointments with the couple, Frigga had noticed their behavior toward each other had changed. They still argued from time to time, but there was an undercurrent to their interactions that hadn't been there before. As if the pair knew secrets no one else in the universe was party to. Frigga had been a mother long enough to know when something was going on under her nose. Something was going on, but for the sake of her son and the bond she could see growing day by day, she couldn't (and wouldn't) prove anything. With barely a week left before their wedding, the stakes were higher than ever.

She just hoped they were being smart.

Across the palace, Claire and Loki were embroiled in a heated argument in her chambers. Loki's top hat game piece had just landed on New York Avenue, which Claire owned, and upon which she had built four hotels. The commoner had bankrupted the prince.

“How. Dare. You. Madam,” Loki hissed as he was forced to surrender his properties one by one to her pile. “You tricked me, you sly little-” he growled as he then forked over a rainbow of colored bills. Claire cackled, counting the money before sorting it into the piles in front of her. The piles in front of Loki had dwindled to nothing thanks to Claire's construction efforts, leaving her the victor in his inaugural game of Monopoly.

“I told you to unmortgage your properties when you had the money but noooooo, you didn’t want to listen!” She said defensively. “Not my fault you're stubborn.”

“What are you talking about, I did exactly as you said!” Loki gestured uselessly to the still mortgaged properties in front of him. Claire laughed heartily, softening his ire. He'd tried everything and she'd slaughtered him. Mercilessly. He admired her ruthlessness, rolling his eyes affably at her smug smile when he collected the dice and handed them to her.

“Wanna play again?” She offered, eyes glinting mischievously as he glared at her.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed. “You'll just bankrupt me again.”

“Well I had fun.” Claire giggled.

“I'm sure you did,” Loki replied. “Tomorrow night I'll bring a game for us to play, and I shall win.”

“It's a date,” Claire grinned. “You probably need to go, don't you?” She asked as she began to gather the game pieces.

“Probably,” Loki said sheepishly, gathering the cards on the board in his large hands. “But I don’t wish to.” Their fingers brushed as she took the cards from him and Claire grinned.

“It's okay to admit you like spending time with me, you know,” she said as she put the cards in the box. “Just sayin'.” She folded the board and put it away, slipping the lid into place.

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Loki chuckled. “Without the crones, preferably.”

“Yeah they need to lighten up,” the couple shared a laugh before Claire jolted. “I have an idea!” She crowed excitedly, jumping up and bounding from the room. Loki was debating whether he should follow her to her bed chamber when she returned with a slim black rectangle. “Have you done a crossword before?”

“A what?”

“Okay, didn't think so,” Claire giggled as she sat beside him on the lounge. Her perfume had faded since their earlier outing, but only slightly. From afar she'd smelled enchanting, but up close her sweet scent was even more potent and made him yearn to reach out and touch her. “This isn't a competitive game, since someone is a sore loser.”

“I am not!” Loki protested lamely. Claire looked at him skeptically, her raised eyebrow making him scoff.

“Okay,” she snickered. “Like you didn’t literally throw a tantrum and call me names.”

“I called you madam; in what realm is that offensive? There are far worse things I could call you.”

“But you didn't.”

“Exactly.” Claire smiled in spite of herself. He was right.

“I think that's possibly the only time I've been called madam by someone who's mad at me. Usually I get called a bitch. Or a cunt. Or a whore.” Loki laughed sharply, immediately schooling his face.

“Apologies,” he said. “I was not expecting-”

“It's okay, I know it's not ladylike, but I ain't a lady.” Claire snickered.

“The men of Midgard do not know how to treat your sex, do they?” Loki asked.

“I would argue men everywhere don't. There are exceptions of course,” Claire hedged when Loki bristled. “But the vast majority? No.”

“That is unfortunate,” Loki murmured. “I shall endeavor to remain in the minority. Now, teach me this new game and defeat me again.”

“You like losing all of a sudden?” Claire teased.

“To you, perhaps,” Loki admitted as Claire opened her crossword app. “I said perhaps!” He added quickly when she laughed at him.

“Don’t worry, mischief, this isn’t that kind of game.” She patted his leg absently, and all of Loki's focus concentrated on that small point of contact. They sat shoulder to shoulder, with their arms pressed together. It would be so easy to lean over and- No! He chastised himself mentally. You have less than a week- surely you can last a week! “Does that make sense?” Damn, he'd missed her explanation while staring at her mouth! What had she said?

“...yes.”

“Lie.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were staring at me, not the game,” Claire grinned when Loki’s cheeks became pink. “Oh, you’re adorable.” Loki scoffed.

“Madam-”

“Sir?” Claire replied cheekily, her grin blossoming into a wide smile at Loki’s dismay. “Would you like me to explain it again?”

“Yes, but…” Loki chuckled. “Do you know,” he paused before smiling shyly. “I was beginning to think your lips changed color. They've been a different shade each day since you've arrived,” his eyes dipped down to her lush lips. “Yet each night they are the same rosy pink.”

“Well I have to keep you on your toes somehow,” Claire snickered, enjoying the heat in his gaze as he glanced at her mouth. “Would you like to pick tomorrow's color, or should I surprise you?” Loki's brain seemed to stop working for a moment, as he gaped at her open-mouthed. She waited patiently, basking in her victory.

“Green,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Please.” He finally requested.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Claire winked at him, already looking forward to knocking him on his ass.

“I have an idea,” Loki said suddenly, changing form as he leapt to his feet. “I’ll return shortly.”

~~~~

Half an hour later, Claire and Loki sat in her chambers embroiled in a battle of wits. Loki had returned with his chess set, challenging her to best him. Claire was aghast to learn it was three-dimensional. She liked Star Trek as much as the next girl, but this was ridiculous. Loki had beaten her in three rapid fire games, and they were now locked in their fourth bout.

“We can stop if you want.” Loki suggested as he waited for her to make a move.

“And let you claim victory again? I don’t think so.” Claire replied stubbornly as her eyes roamed the boards between them.

“Whilst I admire your determination darling, it’s time to admit you’ve been bested,” Loki chuckled. “See here? You are trapped.” he pointed to where his queen had indeed trapped her last lonely knight as he stood in defense of her king.

“I can still win,” Claire doubled down, leaning closer to him. “And when I do, you should kiss me. As a reward.” Loki grinned, wishing he could give her what she wanted.

“Claire, you know we can't.” he said, pulling away from her even though he didn't want to. Claire groaned, rolling her eyes. They’d already broken several rules, what was one more?

“It's a stupid rule.”

“Yes, but it's one we all agreed to-”

“-For the sake of appearances, I know I know. What is it with you princes and having to marry virgins anyway? It's not like sitting on a dick really changes you as a person,” Claire said. “No offense. I'm sure yours is very nice.”

“You'll find out in four days, you impatient creature,” Loki huffed in amusement. “Surely you will survive that long?”

“Fine,” Claire rolled her eyes. “It's still stupid.”

“Yes it is,” Loki replied as Claire yawned. “I should take my leave. Get some sleep, little wife. I shall see you in the morning.”

“I don't think you can call me that yet.” Claire teased.

“We may as well get used to it, don't you think?” Loki asked softly, looking relieved when Claire grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I can do this?” Claire asked. “I’m almost done with princess lessons, and my head feels like it’s close to bursting with all the shit I have to remember, but that’s just protocol stuff. What about everything else?” The imposter syndrome was hitting really hard and Claire was struggling.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, meeting foreign politicians, helping orphans...I’m still a little unclear on what exactly I should be doing and I’m kinda freaking out. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that less than a week from now, I’m going to be a princess. What am I supposed to do?”

“It will get easier with time.”

“Of course you think that, Loki, you grew up here. I grew up poor in LA. Maybe you’re right and it will get easier, but what about now?” Claire asked. “People aren’t going to want anything to do with me if they think I suck, and let’s face it, I’m good at lots of things but I suck at this! I’m barely even a real adult,” she scoffed as she ranted. “I’m-I am three owls in a trench coat, Loki!”

“You’re what?” Loki looked her over with alarm.

“Ugh, it’s a figure of speech,” Claire groaned. Yet another communication error. “I’m just worried I won’t live up to all the expectations.”

“I understand your concern, but we will work through it together. I meant what I said, Claire. I will not let you fail.” Loki murmured as he leaned closer. Claire swallowed, wondering if he would actually break the rule and kiss her. All this waiting felt like middle school all over again; the anticipation was killing her. At the last second Loki pressed his lips to her forehead, and though it wasn't what she wanted, Claire's insides turned molten and gooey.

“That was rude.”

“Is that why you’re blushing?” Loki laughed as he pulled away, winking at her as he got to his feet.

“Shut up. It's still rude,” Claire grumped. “I’m still sixty percent sure I’m going to crash and burn.”

“I would apologize, but I'm not the least bit sorry,” Loki dodged the pillow she threw at him with a laugh. “You'll have to be faster than that, darling.”

“Get out!” Claire laughed, throwing another pillow at him. He bowed sarcastically before making his way to the door.

“Try not to worry too much. Everything will be fine. I swear it.”

“I’ll try. Now go away, I need my beauty sleep.” Claire threw another pillow at him, giggling when he batted it away.

“Good night.” He smiled as he looked back at her.

“Good night.” Claire smiled back, holding back her girlish squeal until the door closed behind him. She still thought marriage was stupid, but things with Loki were going so well that it gave her hope they would be happy together. And even though she wasn’t fully convinced she’d be a good princess, she trusted Loki when he said he would help her navigate her new role.

Three days until the wedding

The next morning, Loki was distracted as soon as he woke up. He wasn't due to see Claire until the late afternoon, but already he was consumed by thoughts of her. Would she actually wear the green as he'd asked?

Through his council meetings and appointments with the tailor, Loki’s usually sharp mind wandered. He found himself daydreaming of the soft pillow of Claire’s lips, painted in a rainbow of colors, while his fellow council members droned on about taxes and new regulations for businesses.

At long last, after a swift mid-day meal of soup and crusty bread, Loki readied himself for his outing with Claire and hastened to her chambers. Outside the door, he adjusted his leathers and fussed with his hair like a nervous boy.

The crones had arrived before him, to his dismay, but Claire’s personal servant Ragna welcomed him inside.

“My lady will be out momentarily, Your Majesty.” she curtsied as she closed the door behind him.

“I’m here now, Ragna,” Claire announced as she stepped into the room. The crones stepped aside, curtsying low. A beaming smile lit Claire’s face as her eyes landed on him. “Hi.”

It was as if every ounce of breath had left his body. Claire was radiant, draped in a flattering tulle dress. The sweetheart neckline left her shoulders exposed, a quaint gold and emerald necklace gracing her collarbone. Her long dark hair hung in delicate curls, and her hands looked more delicate than usual with the long sleeves of the dress hanging past her wrists. The silver band on her bicep blended almost perfectly with the sheer sleeves.

“Hi.” he managed finally, the fluttering of his hands matching the fluttering in his stomach. Her lips were painted green as promised, light in shade like the kiwi fruit of her home. Loki had never had anything that was truly his, but here she was- claiming him with her jewelry and her lip paint.

“It's poison apple.” Claire said, pulling Loki from his thoughts.

“W-what?” his stammered response gained him another smile.

“My lipstick is called poison apple. You keep looking at it, so I assume you like it. Wanna borrow it?” She winked at him, setting the butterflies into motion once again.

“What?” Claire giggled, not even slightly remorseful for the effect she was having on him. They shared intense eye contact, simply staring at one another. Their chaperones burst their bubble, one of them clearing her throat rather harshly.

“Shall we move along to the market?” she suggested. Loki snapped to attention first.

“Yes, we shall,” Loki replied, offering Claire his arm. “My lady?”

“Let’s hit it, my lord,” Claire gave his arm a squeeze when she looped hers around his bicep. God damn, his biceps were incredible.

~~~~

“Tell me something,” Loki asked as they walked through the market. “What exactly was your role with S.H.I.E.L.D.? You mentioned investigation, but what exactly did that entail?”

“I was responsible for determining threat levels,” Claire replied as she inspected a woven basket. “Analyzing people and their behavior was my specialty, but whenever something weird happened, my department would check it out and decide how best to proceed.”

“Which is why you were present-”

“When you sent the destroyer, yes,” Claire replied. “I was part of the team investigating Mjolnir when it showed up.”

“I am sorry you were in harms way.”

“Oh no biggie,” Claire waved off his concern. “Happens all the time. It was cool, you know?”

“Cool?” Loki asked skeptically, his brows rising high.

“I mean, sure, it was terrifying. Buuuut if I had a super awesome robot I would probably send it to break stuff too,” Claire laughed softly. “Can I ask-”

“Why I sent it?”

“Yeah,” Loki looked down, unwilling to admit his petty reasons. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I was just curious.”

“You would be the first.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked. “No one asked you why?” Loki shook his head.

“They assumed I was jealous of my older brother and his claim to the throne; I was content to let them. But that was not why.”

“So what was the reason?” Claire pressed. Loki hesitated, his gaze flicking toward their chaperones. The two older women glared back, and Loki frowned.

“I should not say,“ He finally answered. “I have been...encouraged, shall we say, not to bring up unpleasant memories.”

“Why?”

“I believe Odin is concerned you will become too sympathetic.” Loki gave a sarcastic smile.

“Well that's horseshit,” Claire said. The chaperones gasped behind them and she turned to stare at the older women. “Yeah, I said a bad word. Deal with it,” She turned back to Loki. “Look, we're going to be married for a long time. I know I said I wouldn’t push you for answers and I meant it, but I think at some point I deserve answers to my questions.”

“I don't disagree,” Loki replied gently. "I do not trust easily, my lady.”

“I've noticed,” Claire pretending to inspect a skein of fabric while she thought. “You know, there’s a quote from Earth- those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it’.”

“England’s Wintston Churchill, I believe,” Loki's mouth pursed as he chose his words carefully. “It would be...beneficial, perhaps, for someone to hear my side of things. Someone who would not assume my guilt automatically.”

“I'm all ears, mischief.”

“You are not,” Loki smirked. “You are also have a charming wit and pleasant curves I find myself staring at far more than a respectable man should,” Claire blushed at his earnest words. “Forgive me, that was forward.”

“Don't apologize,” Claire replied. “The feeling is mutual.”

“I have pleasant curves?” Loki joked, delighting when Claire laughed and struck him on the arm.

“You have lots of pleasant things.”

“Such as?” Loki scoffed.

“Your hands,” Claire replied. She held up their clasped hands, unfurling her fingers and pressing her palm against his. His long fingers and wide palm dwarfed hers in size, and his gentle grip made her feel delicate- a feeling she was not familiar with. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Loki asked doubtfully. No one in Asgard had eyes like his. “They are an oddity here.”

“I think they're beautiful,” Claire smiled. “I like odd,” The tops of Loki's cheeks turned pink, and she curled their fingers together again. “Also you have a cute butt.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Loki spluttered.

“Okay.” Claire shrugged.

“What?”

“You said I beg your pardon. So beg.” Loki snorted, tugging her closer by the hand until they were chest to chest.

“You are demanding,” he murmured. “I like it.” Claire preened, a smug look on her face as the chaperones chastised them for being too close. Ignoring them, Loki pulled her even closer, grinning when she squealed giddily. “Once we are wed, I shall tell you what you wish to know.” Claire pulled back, patting his chest plate fondly.

“In your own time, mischief. We have plenty of it.” Loki grinned, releasing her at last. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Shall I tell you all the ways I find you beautiful instead?”

“Who am I say no to a prince?” Claire laughed as they began to walk again. Loki plucked a long stemmed rose from a vendors basket, offering it to her.

“You are refreshingly honest and utterly enchanting,” he said, admiring the red against her creamy skin as she smelled the flower. “I will confess I worried we would be ill-suited, or that you would be unattractive in some way. Even when we fight,” he chuckled. “I admire that you challenge me head on. Each time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me. I find myself appreciating each new thing I learn about you. I look forward to learning more about you in the years to come.” Oh my. Loki, coming in clutch with the silver tongue.

“I’m looking forward to that too,” Claire leaned against him, her cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Her smile faltered when their chaperones scolded them once again for being too close. She rolled her eyes as she took a step back from him. “Mostly I look forward to spending time with you, alone.”

“The feeling is mutual, my lady.” Loki chuckled. Claire giggled, twirling the rose between her fingertips before her face grew serious.

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“I know babies are expected at some point, but...how soon is soon? Do we get to enjoy being married for a little while first?”

“Is that what you want?”

“At least a year,” Claire chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe two? I like fun, but what about baby-free fun?”

“There are ways to avoid conception, my lady.”

“There are? Even here?”

“Of course. I am a master of seidr,” Loki replied. “It may be different from what you are used to on Midgard, but it will work just as effectively, if not more.”

“Whatever it is, sign me up,” Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course. Who am I to tell you what to do with your body?” Loki replied, smiling when Claire leaned her head against his shoulder. “I like the idea of being able to enjoy you without worry. We’ll decide together when the time is right.”

~~~~

“There you are,” Loki sighed in relief as he opened the door to her en-suite bathroom. “I came for our lesson and could not find you, and I...well, I worried.”Loki admitted sheepishly as he hid behind the door. He heard the water splash in the room beyond, and his body responded to knowing Claire was naked mere feet away.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” she laughed.

“Technically, I am not,” Loki replied cheekily, grinning when he heard her laugh. “I wanted to check on you. I know today was a lot for you.”She’d spent the morning perfecting her riding form, and the afternoon being drilled by all of her instructors, each of them wanting to make sure she was flawless before the ceremony. It was draining and frustrating and while their outing to the market had been wonderful, Claire wanted to pull her hair out from the stress of it all.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Claire groaned, sinking deeper into the water. “I’m in a weird mood tonight.”

“What troubles you?”

“Lots of things.” Claire sighed heavily. “I don’t even know if I understand it myself.”

“Try me.”

“This is gonna sound nuts, but just stick with me, okay?” Claire pleaded. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you one-on-one. I’m feeling a lot more confident about signing up for this now that I know you better,” she smiled. “I enjoy our supervised dates too, but I like spending time with you without all the rules,” Loki smiled to himself, warmed by her admission. “I understand that all of this is pretty much a performance, like the circus. I know that in three days, there’s going to be a ton of people here to watch us get married and that’s fine.”

“But?”

“But I hate that all those people are going to see our first kiss,” Claire confessed. “Again, I understand we can’t break the rules and that our marriage is basically a spectacle, but I don’t want us to be a spectacle. Does that make sense?”

“I understand completely.”

“I know we can’t do anything to change it. I don’t want you to risk your safety, I just needed you to know how I’m feeling.”

“I’m honored you trust me with that knowledge.” Silence hung in the steamy air for a stretch, the only sound the rippling of the water. Loki sat on the opposite side of the door, sure to preserve her privacy but wanting to be nearby. He could sense that she needed him.

“Loki?” she called.

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you really think I can do this?” Claire asked softly.

“I was worried at first,” he admitted with a fond smile. “You were loud and brash and opinionated-”

“That’s me, baby- bold and brash,” Claire snickered from the water. “I understand the concern.”

“I no longer have it,” Loki admitted. He heard Claire jerk suddenly in the water- no doubt looking at the door as though he’d sprouted a second head. “Something you said struck a cord with me; that either you would walk beside me as an equal or not at all. We are different, you and I. We may not fit elsewhere but we fit each other. If you were the person you were expected to be, we would not. We will always be equals, this I promise. I am not saying you will not stumble, but I will be with you every step of the way,” Loki pledged. “I have no doubt that in time you will bring the entirety of Asgard to its knees.”

“Thank you. Are you included in that?” Claire asked. The question hung in the air until she snorted, bursting into laughter that echoed in the bathroom. “I’m sorry, you’re out there being serious and I’m making dirty jokes. Feelings make me uncomfortable.”

“I have that difficulty also,” Loki replied. “Would you want me on my knees?”

“I could be persuaded,” Claire chuckled. “I like a good challenge.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Can you toss me my towel please?” Claire laughed from inside the bathroom. “I forgot to grab it before I got in.”

“Here,” Loki stepped into the room, careful to avert his eyes and tossed her towel into her outstretched hand. “I’m going to set up our lesson for tonight. Join me when you’re ready.”

Claire stepped into the main room a few minutes later, dressed comfortably in her pajama pants and an old S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt. Loki had not set up for any lessons- it looked more like he’d prepared for a book club than anything else. A stack of books sat on the table, as well as the usual tray laden with snack foods.

“I thought you said you were setting up a lesson.”

“A clever ruse,” Loki grinned. “I thought perhaps we could simply spend time together. It has been a difficult day for you and you deserve a break.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.”

“Of course,” Loki smiled as she sat on the couch beside him. “I wondered if I could ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“When you first arrived, you had-” Loki mimed monstrous claws, making Claire laugh. “You no longer have them.”

“Yeah, I took them off,” Claire replied. “I really just wanted to look a little scary, and the claws are a good way to do it.”

“Ah,” Loki nodded. He could see why she would want to appear intimidating. “And the hoop in your nose?”

“The hoop stays. It’s permanent,” Claire plucked lightly at the purple hoop. “I’ve had it for years. I got it when I was sixteen and man, was my mom mad,” she laughed. “I thought she was gonna spit fire.”

“Was that a talent of hers?”

“No, it’s just an expression,” Claire shook her head. “Although she was Puerto Rican and probably could have done it if she put her mind to it.”

“I see. Is that a nationality?”

“It is, actually. You’ll find Puerto Ricans of all ethnic backgrounds, but she was born on the island. Her parents moved to the United States when she was a kid. That’s where I was born.”

“In LA?”

“Yeah. Los Angeles, or LA for short, is in California on the west coast of my country. I lived there until I was sixteen.”

“Would I be correct in assuming that is when you lost your mother?” Claire nodded.

“Yes. Phil took me in after that, and I went to the S.H.I.E.L.D academy, then I was out in the field within a couple of years.”

“And you’ve done nothing else?”

“Hey, my career is nothing to sneeze at. I had to work very hard to get to where I was,” Claire said defensively. “The S.H.I.E.L.D academy trains kids from a very early age, but I was able to pass their tests and get in late. I broke tons of records there, both at the academy and in the field. I’ve been to places most people couldn’t even dream of visiting.”

“Asgard included.” Claire laughed despite herself.

“Yes, Asgard included. You could probably make a killing in the tourism trade.”

“We have enough money, darling, believe me,” Loki chuckled. “Please, help yourself to something.” he held out the plate of snacks.

“What book are you reading?” Claire asked as she helped herself to a fruit tart. Loki produced a thick text on philosophy, already marked by a book mark.

“I am trying to refine my argument for the next council meeting,” he explained. “What will you read?”

“I’m reading a history of Asgard.”

“Your tutors will be pleased.” Loki chuckled as Claire scooted closer.

Loki set the snacks between them as they both settled in to read their books.

~~~~

Claire closed her book once she’d finished her chapter; the question niggling in her brain demanding to be aired.

“I have a question.”

“Of course,” Loki put aside the book he was reading from to look at her. “What is it?”

“So I understand that people aren't supposed to touch members of the royal family. Am I included in that?”

“You are,” Loki nodded. “Even though we are not yet wed, you are my intended and that courtesy ought to be extended to you as it is to me.”

“And if it isn't?” Claire had though she’d seen Loki angry. She'd seen him annoyed, when he'd told off the crones or when they bickered, and he’d been furious after the glitter bomb incident, but this was different. His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he clenched his teeth.

“Give me a name.”

“I don't think it's that serious.”

“You said someone touched you. Or at least implied it. Who?”

“Why?”

“Why?” Loki balked. “I assume this cretin is still breathing. I intend to put a stop to that,” Claire couldn't help but smile. “You laugh, my lady, but this is no laughing matter.”

“No, you're right, sorry,” Claire nodded. “But why don't you let me handle it? I was really just asking for clarification.”

“Is that what you want? To handle it personally?”

“I think it would be best.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“It's not that,” Claire shook her head. “But we're getting married in a matter of days and I imagine this will cause a stir. The last thing we need is a scene.”

“I am capable of discretion,” Loki scoffed, clearly offended. “Honestly.”

“Loki, why do I feel like if you had your way, I would have a dead body outside my door?”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Loki shrugged. “Would that upset your delicate sensibilities?” He asked darkly.

“Of course not; I’m hardly a stranger to dead bodies. But I'd prefer if our marriage didn't start with one or both of us in prison.”

“You're no fun.” Loki purred.

“I'm plenty of fun. You'll find out exactly how much in three days.”

“Hmm,” The deep rumble from his chest made Claire's insides turn to goo. Fuck, she wanted him. The fact he offered to kill for her...it sent a dark thrill down her spine. He shot to his feet, preparing to leave. “I will ensure there is additional security at your door. I should-”

“Can I give you a hug?” Claire asked abruptly. Loki paused, surprised by her question.

“You may.” He grunted when she squeezed him around the middle, pressing her face into his chest. Loki stood awkwardly as she embraced him without fear. He couldn't remember the last time...

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“We fit.” Claire murmured, practically purring with contentment as Loki's arms wrapped around her. His head came to rest on hers as he pulled her tightly against him. His heartbeat was steady and comforting in her ear, his body molded perfectly to hers as his chest rose and fell. This was the most they had touched since meeting, and Claire adored the feeling of his solid form against her body, as though he were the anchor to her ship lost at sea.

“Are you certain you wish to handle-”

“Yes,” Claire said stubbornly, keeping her face buried in his chest. “But if I need help, I'll tag you in.”

“How shall you handle it?”

“I'll beat him up, obviously.” Claire giggled.

“I would very much like to see that.” Loki replied.

“You like the fact that I can defend myself, don’t you?”

“I do indeed,” Loki chuckled. “I’ll admit, I’ve thought of it often since our fight on the training field.”

“I still want that rematch.”

“You shall have it. For now I shall have to hope that I can see you dispense justice to whichever lout dared to put a hand on you.” Claire laughed as she shifted her weight, grinning when she felt what was hiding in his pants.

“Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” Claire snickered. Loki sighed in exasperation.

“Is this how life is to be with you? Hmm?” He jostled her playfully, making her laugh. “You tease me relentlessly then mock me for reacting?”

“For now,” Claire said apologetically. “Sorry, I can't do anything to help.” She wasn’t sorry at all.

“You are a dreadful menace. Go to bed, you little imp,” Loki huffed without ire, pulling away from her. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Think sexy thoughts about me, k?” Loki laughed, his tongue flashing as he licked his lips. He grinned down at her, every inch a predator observing his prey, and Claire could have come on the spot.

“Darling, all of my thoughts are about you. Especially when I bring myself to release.” He growled, hands fisting in her clothes as he pulled her back into his chest, and Claire desperately wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin.

“I think about you too.” She confessed, shivering with delight when he backed her up against the nearest wall.

“Your pupils are dilated,” he noted as he towered over her. “I would wager if I touched you, you would be wet for me.”

“You're welcome to,” Claire challenged. “Or are we still pretending we're following the rules?” Loki growled as the neckline of her dress slipped lower, exposing unseen flesh to his desperate gaze. “Wait, can you lift me?” Loki furrowed his brows at the silly question. Of course he could. He lifted her effortlessly, stepping between her parted thighs with a growl. Claire sighed sweetly as he took her weight, her lithe arms closing behind his neck.

“Better?” He asked softly, his lips a mere inch from hers. It would be so easy to break the rules and kiss her, claim her until she begged him for sweet release.

“I've been thinking how I wanted to fuck you first after we're married,” nimble fingers combed through his hair, and Loki melted into the affection. “This is pretty high on the list.” Claire sighed, wrapping a lock of his hair around her finger as she squeezed his waist with her delectable thighs. Even though she was fully clothed, Loki could feel the heat of her skin through the cloth of her dress and it was driving him mad. Loki grunted with want and his cock throbbed between her legs. The whimper that escaped her nearly drove him to his knees. He dropped his head to her shoulder, inhaling her intoxicating scent as his eyes drifted closed.

“Sometimes,” he swallowed nervously. “I worry this is all a dream and I will wake to find myself still locked in that accursed cell,” He longed to sink his teeth into her flesh and mark her for all to see, but to do it now would have grave consequences. “I should go while I can still think clearly.” Claire brushed his hair back gently, clinging to him as he gingerly set her back on her feet. His hands trailed up her body, giving her goosebumps. He clasped her hand and gave the softest kiss to her knuckles, his eyes burning into hers as he put all his longing into his kiss. He pulled away, but pressed another kiss to her forearm as his other arm held her against him.

Holy shit. He was doing the Gomez thing. Without her asking! Claire was pretty sure he didn't even know who Gomez Addams was. His mouth burned with promise as he laid another kiss at the delicate fold of her arm. Claire's eyes were half closed with pleasure as he blazed a scorching trail along the heated nerves of her skin, kissing at her bicep and again at her shoulder. Claire's knees went weak as his lips pressed to the curve of her neck, only remaining upright thanks to his tightened grip when she wilted. Loki's tongue darted out to taste her flushed skin, teasing her with the sharp tip of his canines.

“Loki,” she pleaded breathlessly. “You should leave before I tie you to the bed.”

“Such promises, darling,” he murmured, pressing a final kiss to her neck before pulling away. “Are you sure you can stand?”

“Shut up,” Claire laughed. “Fuckin' neck kisses get me every time.”

“I shan't forget,” Loki promised, enjoying the needy way she grabbed his sleeves when he leaned in to kiss her. He didn't fully press his lips to hers, enjoying the dizzying pull of her mouth. She was utterly enchanting, sapphire eyes closed and cheeks flushed. “How could I with such a lovely reaction?” He released her, grinning when she groaned with want. “I shall take my leave. Good night, my lady.” Though his words were formal, his tone was anything but. This wasn't him testing her knowledge again. He was claiming her.

“Good night, my lord,” Claire replied. She welcomed the claim, and returned it. “I hate these rules.”

“As do I,” Loki said. “Though I believe it is past the midnight hour now. Two more days and you shall be mine.” Claire groaned, wishing time would hurry up and pass already.

“Two more days.” She sighed as the handmaiden replaced Loki. The guard at her door nodded in greeting when the massive door opened, and she waved at him as Loki slash the handmaiden strolled past him without incident. Frustrated, Claire began making mental plans to have a steamy bath before bed. She knew she should have packed more toys.

Two days until the wedding

“Good morning, darlings! A fabulous day awaits you- your guests arrive shortly and the wedding games will begin tomorrow!” Frigga greeted Claire and Loki in the great hall during breakfast. “Eat quickly; you must approve all the final touches before the guests arrive.” The couple shared a knowing glance. This was undoubtedly the last bit of calm they would have for the next few days.

~~~~

After giving final approval of the seating arrangements, decorations, and the various menus of the coming feasts, Claire and Loki retreated to the garden with Frigga for tea. Frigga was practically vibrating with excitement as they rested before the madness truly began. The first official wedding event, the opening feast, would take place in a matter of hours.

“Mother,” Loki began as Claire nursed her cup of tea. “I wonder if I could ask something of you.”

“Of course, my darling,” Frigga patted his hand fondly. “What do you need?” Loki glanced at Claire before turning back to Frigga.

“I wondered if Claire and I could have just a moment alone.” he asked. Frigga challenged him with a raised brow, staring at him pensively over the rim of her teacup.

“More than you’ve already had?” she asked. Loki and Claire both froze, Claire choking on her tea and beginning to cough. “Relax, my darlings-”

“We haven’t broken the rules!” Claire said urgently.

“I’ve been helping Claire prepare for her role, nothing more,” Loki added. “Mother-”

“Hush,” Frigga said calmly as she straightened in her chair. “I already know this.”

“You do?”

“Darling girl,” Frigga scoffed gently as she pierced Claire with her knowing gaze. “You made a rather drastic improvement without warning. It was obvious you had assistance. And simultaneously, by some miracle, Loki’s outlook also began to improve. It was not difficult to discern what was happening,” she smirked, glancing between the pair. “I am no fool; I have raised two sons to adulthood. But results are results, and I was glad to see you happy,” she smiled at Loki. “And to see you faring better.” she extended a hand to Claire.

“Mother-”

“If you did not break any additional rules, it shall remain our secret.” Frigga promised.

“We have not.”

“The risk isn’t worth it,” Claire added, warming Loki with her sincerity. “We both understand the rules and the reason behind them. We’re both doing this for bigger reasons than ourselves, and we understand we will largely be in the public eye. We just didn’t want the start of our physical relationship to be the same way.”

“Ah,” Frigga nodded in understanding. “As someone who did not meet her husband until we arrived at the altar, I completely understand.”

“Would you allow it?” Loki asked. Frigga said nothing, bridging her fingers in front of her tea cup as she stared them down. Claire was used to being under scrutiny, under threat of death, but her future mother-in-law’s discerning gaze made her sweat.

“I will cover for you for exactly five minutes,” she finally agreed, relaxing and taking a sip of tea. “I am trusting you to follow the other rules as you have until now.”

“Thank you, mother.” Loki got to his feet and offered Claire his hand. Claire grinned and took it, letting him lead her away from the table.

“What shall we discuss in our time together?” Frigga asked as they disappeared into the garden. Claire looked back to see Frigga chatting with mirror images of the two of them.

“Your mom is awesome,” Claire laughed as they made their way deeper into the thick of the garden. “Can you do that too?”

“I can,” Loki replied as they came upon a lush willow tree. Loki tugged her beneath the tree’s canopy, the long leafy boughs shielding them from any passersby. “I could show you, if you wanted. But is that really how you wish to spend our limited time together?”

“Nah, I’ll take a rain check. I’d rather kiss you stupid.” Claire let him press her against the tree.

“You, kiss me stupid?” Loki scoffed as he towered over her. His gaze dropped to her lush lips as he leaned closer, his arm snaking around her waist. “You’re rather confident for someone who gets weak in the knees when I merely kiss your hand.”

“Shut up,” Claire giggled. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the ball-buster back home. You should be flattered.” She poked a finger in his chest, flattening her palm against him as he stepped even closer. They were chest to chest now, and Claire’s heart was thundering in her ears. Loki looked so handsome she wanted to eat him alive.

“Who says I’m not?” he purred. His lips hovered over hers teasingly, both of them drunk on the delectable liquor of finally being able to touch. Tired of waiting, Claire cupped the back of his neck and pulled Loki down, sighing happily as he crowded her against the tree. The kisses on her knuckles had alluded to Loki’s skill, but this was a different experience with all new thrills. His lips were soft and warm, and she could faintly taste the tea he’d sipped before they’d escaped. After being denied any sort of touch for so long, Claire wanted to remember everything.

Loki licked at her lips, humming with delight when she pulled him closer. Their shared breath became heated as they both fought the urge to tear off the offending clothing between them. His long fingers grasped at the material of her dress, tugging her against him insistently.

Loki’s hair was soft and looped easily around her fingers as she sank her hands into the tresses. Claire pulled away long enough to work her fingers beneath his collar, gasping when his large hand groped at her breast. Loki reclaimed her mouth, making her dizzy with want as he made love to her with his tongue. Unlike other men she’d kissed, Loki didn’t shove his tongue down her throat. Instead, he stoked her desire with measured teasing strokes that had her insides melting and her knees quaking.

Loki pulled away from her reluctantly, supporting her weight with a knowing smile.

“Do you feel better?” he asked softly.

“Much better.” Claire smiled up at him, soaking up the feel of him pressed against her as he kissed her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her under his chin as she hugged him tightly. She could feel his pulse racing in his throat, and felt a wave of satisfaction that he was just as affected as she was.

“This was an excellent idea,” he murmured. “It may be difficult to steal moments like these once we are both entrenched in our duties, but I would like to-”

“I’d like that too. I know all this-” Claire gestured beyond the tree’s hanging boughs. “Is mostly a performance for others, but this is private.” She wound their fingers together, clasping their hands tightly.

“It shall stay that way. I am a very private person.”

“I’ve noticed,” Claire smiled. “But I agree. I don’t share well.” she hummed with satisfaction as he kissed her again, her eyes slipping closed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“You’ll never share me, little wife. I am yours as you are mine,” Loki promised softly. “We should return,” he ran his hand down her arm, lifting her knuckles to his mouth before dotting kisses upon her wrist and forearm. “We are overdue.”

“If you keep doing that, you’re gonna have to carry me.” Claire murmured as his lips caressed the exposed skin at her inner elbow.

“Are you unwell?” he gave a teasing smirk when a whimper escaped her. It was unfair, honestly, how a simple kiss could make her clit throb with need. He traced his lips along her skin, pressing more kisses inside the sleeve openings at her bicep and at her shoulder. His warm breath caressed her skin delicately as he clutched possessively at her waist. “Perhaps I can help,” he placed another kiss upon her collar bone, searing her flesh and making desire flood her veins. “Better?” he breathed against her flushed skin, grinning mischievously when she clutched him to her. “Your scent...it shall drive me mad.” he murmured as he nosed at her neck, peppering kisses upon her skin and making her writhe against him.

“Loki-”

“Gods, I cannot wait to make you fall apart beneath me,” he licked at her skin, drawing the tender flesh between his teeth as her nails dug into his shoulders. “We shall have endless amounts of fun together.”

Approaching footsteps pulled their attention from each other and they sprung apart. The skin at Claire’s neck smarted delightfully, but any mark would have given them away instantly. Loki soothed the skin with a brush of his thumb, using seidr to remove the faint mark he’d left behind.

“Thanks.” Claire grabbed his hand appreciatively, grateful he’d thought about it.

“Of course.” the couple shared a secretive smile as they emerged from under the tree to see Frigga approaching them. The queen took in their flushed faces and smiles before giving them a knowing look.

“There you are, my darlings. I trust all is well?”

“Very well, Mother. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now! Let us finish our walk before I must turn you over to the mercy of your guests.” she winked at them, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her on the cobblestone path.

“My lady?” Loki offered Claire his arm. Claire looped her arm through his, knocking into him gently with her hip. Loki looked at her with surprise before he knocked into her with his hip. Claire bumped into him again, making him stumble slightly. Frigga looked in with mild concern as Loki bumped into her harder, her concern giving way as the two burst into giggles. The pair took off down the path, shrieking with laughter and wearing matching smiles as Frigga trailed behind them with a smile of her own.

~~~~

After their interlude in the garden, Claire and Loki were ushered to their respective chambers to get ready for the guests arrival. Claire felt like she was floating on air, chitchatting with Ragna as they walked.

All through her preparation, as her hair was combed within an inch of its life, her nails buffed until they gleamed, and her lips painted with a shimmery gloss, the feeling remained. Looking in the mirror, Claire saw not just herself, but a respectable lady. Someone in love.

Was it too early to call it that? Claire had long since given up on any meaningful connection, but Loki had found a way past her defenses in such a short time that it frightened her a little.

Okay, a lot.

But wasn’t that part of love? Didn’t it make you feel like you could fly, but also like you were a ship about to be dashed upon the rocky shore?

“Lady Claire?” Ragna caught her attention with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s time.”

“Right,” Claire took a deep breath, looking back at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t have any answers, but maybe this was one of those things you just have to go through. She felt confident that because of their bond, she and Loki would work well together, and hopefully, be happy for years to come. “I’m ready.”

~~~~

Claire arrived in the throne room shortly after Loki, who looked devastatingly handsome in his formal leathers and cape. Claire’s intrusive thoughts wanted her to hug him from behind and bury her face between his shoulder blades. She settled for complimenting him since they were under heavy surveillance still.

“You look so fancy,” she murmured as she stepped up beside him. “No helmet today?”

“Not today, darling, you must be serious for once.”

“I can be serious.” Claire argued. Loki shot her a skeptical look. Claire made a silly face at him, catching him off guard and making him laugh. Behind Claire, Frigga made a stern face at the both of them, silently warning them to behave. This only served to make the pair laugh harder despite their best attempts to quiet down. The large doors opened, revealing the sea of people who’d come to see them. Claire’s stomach dropped, her anxiety suddenly dialed up to eleven. What if she did something stupid? What if she didn’t look the part?

“Don’t fuss, darling,” Loki said gently, squeezing her hand and preventing her from picking at her pristine nails. “You can do this.” he reassured her in the quiet before the storm.

“Thank you.” Claire squeezed back, grateful that he had noticed her distress, and that he had stepped in to soothe her.

“You’re welcome. Now chin up. You look lovely, and I know how confident you are,” he smiled. “Act like it.” he gave her hand another squeeze before the first guest approached. People were still spilling into the room, the line of guests to be greeted growing longer and longer. Loki stood at the head of their receiving line to Claire’s left, while Frigga and finally Odin stood to her right. Claire had assumed that the king and queen would greet the guests first, but Frigga had explained that the majority of the guests were allies of Asgard and therefore would come to pay respect to Odin, but also Loki and her by extension. Because they were the ones being celebrated, they would greet the guests first.

As a staff member told Loki the names of the first guests, Claire had a thought that maybe she should have binged The Crown before she came to Asgard. It probably would have been at least a little helpful.

She’d certainly get her curtsy down pat after today.

~~~~

Good God, was there any end to this line?! Claire felt as though she’d met enough people to fill an entire stadium. Her hands ached from shaking so many, her face hurt from the smile she had plastered on, her feet were screaming at her from inside the shoes she wore. She just wanted this to end.

“I didn’t realize you would be coming!” Claire exclaimed as she saw a group of familiar faces approaching Loki. “It’s so nice to see all of you.”

“Please,” Tony said, holding up a hand to stop her. “Don’t get too emotional, I’m a person just like you. Actually I take that back-” He grunted when his wife smacked him in the ribs.

“Ignore him,” the blonde said with a small smile. “I’m Pepper.” She offered her hand for Claire to take.

“Oh hi!” Claire said excitedly. “I’ve heard lots of great things about you; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, Rock of Ages, how’s it going?” Tony asked casually, unfazed by Loki’s glare as he held out his hand.

“How do you think?” he asked harshly, pointedly ignoring Tony’s hand.

“It’s just a question, buddy, relax. Congratulations.” Tony retracted his hand. A muscle ticked in Loki’s jaw as he clenched his fists. Beside Tony, Pepper facepalmed.

“Thank you.” Loki replied tersely as the couple continued down the line to greet Frigga. Steve stood waiting to greet Loki, along with Anja and a brunette man Claire didn’t recognize.

“Loki.” Steve offered his hand as he stepped in front of Loki.

“Rogers.” Loki shared a tense smile with the captain, squeezing his hand tightly. He released the captain after the appropriate amount of time, allowing him to sidestep and greet Claire.

“Hi Cla-”

“Captain,” Claire said icily. She still hadn’t forgiven Steve for choosing Rollins over her for the STRIKE team several years ago. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, thank you for the invitation,” Steve nodded politely. “Congratulations.” Steve stepped aside to greet Frigga, allowing Claire to observe Loki and Anja’s interaction.

“-Not being incarcerated has done wonders for me,” Loki said warmly. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” Anja replied. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” she gave Loki a warm smile before stepping over to greet Claire.

“Shadow, right?” Claire asked, taking her hand.

“That’s me,” Anja smiled. “I’m your uncles favorite.” She stage whispered.

“Don’t let her lie, I’m his favorite.” Tony objected from further down the line. Frigga looked at him quizzically.

“I’m sure,” Claire giggled as Pepper dragged Tony away from Frigga to greet Odin. She turned back to Anja, clasping her hand in her own. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course! I love weddings, and this place is gorg-eous!” Anja sang. “Congratulations. This is my husband Bucky.” she gestured to the dark haired man beside her.

“Hi.” Claire shook his hand too.

“Oh, hi. I thought-” Claire glanced at Steve, her head cocked in confusion.

“I got a two-fer,” Anja grinned. “Our rabbi is very modern.”

“Oh, right on!” Claire laughed. Kudos to Anja for bagging two hot relics. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting us.” Bucky replied, shaking her hand before the throuple moved down the line.

Bruce and a brunette woman Claire didn’t recognize stepped in front of Loki. The tension between Bruce and Loki was instantly palpable and everyone seemed to take a collective breath as the two stared each other down. Claire remembered from the file in her room that Hulk had thrown Loki around Avengers tower like a rag doll. Yikes. Talk about awkward. After a moment, Bruce offered a hand shake in a show of peace. Loki glanced down at his hand and up to Bruce, pausing briefly before taking his hand grudgingly.

“Hi, Claire,” Bruce said softly as they stepped in front of her. “This is my wife Darcy.”

“Hi there!” Darcy chimed in brightly. Claire smiled back at them and shook their hands, thanking them for coming. The couple seemed to balance each other; where Bruce was reserved, Darcy was exuberant.

“Uh…congratulations.” Bruce offered meekly.

“This must be so awkward for the both of you,” Darcy said gently. “No offense, arranged marriage just seems so...eek.”

“It was at first,” Claire chuckled. “It’s gotten better.” Darcy patted her hand comfortingly.

“Good, good. I hope your first child is a masculine child.” Darcy spoke with gravitas, in a perfect impression of Luca Brasi. Claire curled her lips inward to contain her laughter. She liked Darcy. They would have been good friends.

“Thanks Darcy.” Claire finally managed. Loki looked on with confusion as Darcy curtsied before moving on to greet Frigga.

“What was that girl talking about?” he leaned close to ask.

“It was a movie reference, dear, I’ll explain later.” Claire snickered as Thor appeared (finally), at the end of the line. Claire was overjoyed to see the president of her home country bringing up the rear of the line as she’d asked, sulking like a spoiled child just as she’d known he would. She’d known he couldn’t be uninvited for the sake of appearances, of course, but he was no doubt the furthest from where he wanted to be. If Claire knew the slimy bastard like she thought she did, he was surely hoping to use the occasion for some peacocking.

“Welcome to Asgard,” Loki greeted the man politely, as if he hadn’t suggested the man’s miserable place in the line. “I trust your accommodations are to your liking?”

“Yes, yes, very fine,” the man mumbled. “Not as nice as my resort, but very fine.” Loki glanced over to Claire with a pointed look that clearly meant Is this fool serious? Claire arched her brow in response.

Yes. Unfortunately.

Loki’s brow ticked just slightly, as if to say I see.

“We will do everything we can to make your time in Asgard more comfortable. We appreciate you coming.” Loki said diplomatically.

“Congratulations,” the man mumbled, ambling over to Claire with an awkward gait. “I’d love to meet while I’m here-” he wheezed, sticking out his small hand for Claire to shake. “Get your opinion on a couple things.”

“That depends,” Claire replied coolly, pointedly ignoring his tiny hand. “Are you actually interested in what I have to say, or are you hoping I’ll fix the next election to keep you in power?” Loki glanced at her with giddy interest, delighted to see her sink her claws into her prey. The puny man grew red in the face and withdrew his hand.

“I won fair and square.”

“I’m sure,” Claire said placidly. “I’m also sure we can both agree that Asgard is a far more powerful ally than Russia.”

“Maybe we can work something out. You’re from the States, after all.”

“Be that as it may, I won’t be interceding on your behalf. You’ll have to get by on your own merit, if you’re able.”

“I’m more than able- the most able,” the man insisted. “I can make things very difficult for you.”

“Can you even reach my shoulders?” Claire scoffed. “I will not be blackmailed by some ineffectual, privileged, effete, soft-penised debutante. You want to start a street fight with me; bring it on, but you're gonna be surprised by how ugly it gets. You don't even know my name,” she sneered, leaning into the man’s space and making him shrink back. “I'm the fucking lizard king.”

Gods, she was magnificent. Was this what love felt like? Loki would have gladly given her anything she desired in that moment.

Several emotions flickered across the mans face; fear, indignation, embarrassment, and finally, rage. He looked comical with his wide eyes, his eye sockets two large circles of white amidst the rest of his carrot-orange face. He mumbled something unintelligible to Claire and beat a hasty retreat.

“That is the leader of your country?” Loki leaned in to scoff. “Why is he orange?” his lip curled in disgust as he watched the odious man greet Frigga and Odin, his off-colored lips flapping as he no doubt said something offensive.

“He insists it’s a tan.”

“He is delusional,” Loki muttered. “He looks like a sunburnt Krylorian,” Claire couldn’t have contained her laughter if she tried. She did manage to reign it in, but only after the butt of their private joke glared at her. “Oh dear, I think you’re in trouble darling.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Claire cackled, slapping at him ineffectually, as he continued to mock the short man and make her laugh. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“You don’t need my help for that, menace,” Loki said with pride, pulling her against him with an arm around her waist. “You’ve sent him running like a frightened dog. But what exactly is a lizard king?” Claire laughed again.

“It’s a quote from a tv show,” she replied as Thor arrived, heralding at last the end of the parade of guests. “Don’t worry, I’m not in any competing lines of succession.”

“Good to know,” Loki chuckled. “I should hate for anything to derail our big day.”

“Looking forward to it, are you?” Claire asked teasingly as he offered her his arm to lead her to the great hall. A long night of feasting, drinking and dancing with their guests awaited them, and Claire for one was very excited.

“It would be a pity if it didn’t happen. Everyone is already here, after all.” Loki murmured, pleased beyond measure when she laughed and let her head drop onto his shoulder. No one else quite grasped his sense of humor like she did. It made him feel something he couldn’t quite name but whatever it was, he knew he wanted to feel it always.

~~~~

Claire sank into the water with a groan of delight, overjoyed to soak her aching feet after such a long night. The opening feast was still in full swing in the great hall, but having accomplished everything she’d wanted to for the night, Claire had made an excuse to go to bed early.

She turned toward the open door as a creak sounded from outside it, smiling to herself. It could only be one person.

“You left early too?” she called.

“It was rather dull without you,” Loki replied from his post beyond the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Claire laughed. “People think women are fragile so I was able to make an easy exit. Did I miss anything?”

“Not really. Things quieted down after your country’s...leader was separated from the captain and sergeant.” Claire snorted as she wet her hair in the steaming water.

“That’s probably for the best,” she cackled. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask them to take a photo with him,” her head shot up as a foul thought occurred to her. “You don’t think he’ll ask us for one, do you?”

“If he does, we’ll simply say no,” Loki chuckled. “I have no qualms about upsetting such a...how should I describe him?”

“An idiot?”

“Yes, that will do,” Loki agreed. “I have no qualms about upsetting an idiot,” The pair laughed together for a moment as they thought of the bumbling man downstairs. “Were you pleased by tonight’s event?”

“Oh yes, everything was wonderful! I am so full, I couldn’t eat another bite, but the food was so good I want more.”

“What of our guests? I saw you flitting about.”

“I’ll admit I had a bit of an agenda,” Claire laughed. “There were several politicians I wanted to talk to, and it was the perfect opportunity to pick their brains.”

“Did you manage to catch everyone you wished to speak to?”

“Yes! I was most excited to speak to Angela Merkel- she’s the first female chancellor of Germany; and Michelle Obama! Ah, such a remarkable woman, I really admire her. I asked her for leadership advice.”

“And did she give any?”

“Oh yes,” Claire sighed happily. “I don’t know how much I’ll be leading here, but I’d like to be like her. She’s very intelligent. Resilient. Level-headed and compassionate. She really cares about people.”

“I’m sure you’ll find opportunity,” Loki smiled. “Did you speak with anyone else?”

“Yes, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Claire squealed excitedly. “Let it be known that, I, Claire Fisher, a lowly S.H.I.E.L.D agent and childhood resident of Compton, spoke to the QUEEN OF ENGLAND!”

“I had no idea you would be so excited about this,” Loki laughed, charmed by her enthusiasm. “Did she meet your expectations?”

“YES!” Claire squealed. “She was wonderful! She gave me leadership advice- and some marriage advice- and she’s SO funny! I love her so much, Loki, I never want her to leave.” Loki laughed heartily at that.

“Eventually we must let her go home, darling.”

“Oh alright, fine, she can leave.” Claire replied grumpily, sulking deeper into the water. She began to rub body wash into her skin, filling the humid air with the scent.

“What is that?” Loki asked. “That smell.” It smelled of intoxicating sweet flowers and musk.

“It’s body wash. In the Stars, from Bath and Body Works. It was a gift from my friends you met. FitzSimmons?”

“Ah yes, the scientists. I would have liked to speak to them more.”

“You should; I think you’d get along,” Claire smiled. “Anyway, they made me a going-away gift of self-care items and makeup. All of the scents are space or astronomy themed, which is so on brand for both of them. They also gave me all the lipsticks you’re so fond of.”

“I shall endeavor to thank them,” Loki smiled. “I assume you know them from S.H.I.E.L.D., but how did your role correlate to theirs?”

“Ah, well, as scientists, they would develop weapons and gear and whatnot, and every so often I would get to test their new toys in the field. They made a plasma cannon once that sadly did not get the final approval from the higher ups, but it was fun to play with.”

“I can imagine it was quite destructive.”

“Yeah, I spent a week filling out damage reports,” Claire cringed. “Still, it was disappointing to see it scrapped,” the pair fell into easy silence as Claire continued to scrub her skin. “Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me about one of your disappointments.” the loaded request sat heavy on Loki’s shoulders. It was a request to be vulnerable, and Loki wondered how far he was willing to let his guard down where Claire was concerned.

“When I was a boy- well...I was at an odd stage- not quite a man, but no longer a boy- I had a very exciting opportunity to study some insects that were on the brink of extinction. I have always preferred my studies to the practices of Odin and Thor, but this was an exceptional chance to study creatures that were vastly important to their ecosystems. For whatever reason, it was nearly impossible to get them to breed, and so their numbers dwindled, and dwindled, until finally, there were only two males and one female left.”

“That does sound interesting.”

“My tutor was one of the utmost experts in the field, and whether by design or luck, he came into possession of these three beetles. For weeks we studied them, and my days were consumed with them. I felt...a kinship of sorts with them, because they were the last of their kind, and I was- I am- an outsider. I wondered whether they could feel, or perhaps even shared, my profound sense of isolation.”

“Oh, honey…”

“One day, Odin stormed into my daily lessons, demanding to know why I was not on the training field with Thor. I tried to explain what my tutor and I were attempting, but he would not listen. He cared only that I was neglecting my training. I should mention that military service is compulsory at one’s majority, which was rapidly approaching for me at that time. He meant well-”

“That doesn’t matter. Your studies were important too,” Claire replied. “What happened?”

“Odin crushed the female,” Loki said softly. “He then told me it no longer mattered and since the beetles were doomed, I would be better served focusing on what did matter. He dragged me to the training field and made me stay there for hours.”

“Jesus.”

“At one point I collapsed, because I had been in the hot sun for so long without food or water. Odin instructed one of the older boys to dump water on me, and when I woke, I was told I was pathetic and not fit to serve in the infantry, let alone as an officer.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes, well...I cannot isolate the time I learned how little I mattered to Odin into a single memory; it is a running theme of which he enjoys reminding me.”

“I’m so sorry, Loki. No one deserves to feel that way,” Claire said angrily. “For what it’s worth, you matter to me.” Silence fell once again as Loki wrapped his arms around himself on the other side of the door.

“Thank you.” he murmured after a beat.

“Would you like to know my disappointment?” Claire asked softly.

“Yes, of course.”

“In one of our first meetings, when we were talking about my-” Claire laughed. “My parentage was questionable at best, I believe were your words.”

“Which I regret.”

“That’s mine as well. That I don’t know who my father is. I don’t know what kind of person he is, what his favorite food is,” she said softly. “At least with Odin...you know what color his eyes are, what tea he likes.”

“Is it worse to know, or not to know?” Loki asked somberly.

“I don’t have an answer to that.”

“Hmm,” Loki said absently. “Finish your bath, darling. Meet me on the lounge when you’re ready.” he withdrew quickly, needing a moment alone to collect himself. Claire let him go, already knowing what he needed. She needed it too.

She finished her bath quickly, wrapping her hair in the towel after slipping into her pajamas. She stepped out to find Loki stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed.

“Scoot over.” Claire nudged him gently as she reached the couch, settling beside him when he scooted to make room.

“That is a rather daring head piece,” Loki squinted at her. “You’ll make quite a statement at court.”

“Shut up,” Claire laughed. “I’m not gonna snuggle with you if you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” came the chuckled reply. “What was the marriage advice? From the queen of England?” he asked as they settled on the couch facing each other. Claire laughed softly, smothering her mirth in the pillow beneath her head.

“To find little moments to share, so that even when the job prevents big moments from happening, you have something to hold onto.”

“That is...rather honest.”

“I was going to invite you to join me in the bath, but I knew you would say no,” Claire murmured, glancing over at him. “These rules are dumb; we’re breaking several right now.”

“Indeed we are,” Loki purred. “Less than forty-eight hours to go, little wife.” Claire giggled as she stretched out alongside him.

“Stay for a little while?” Claire asked as tiredness washed over her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she reached for him, tugging him closer with a hand on his hip.

“Of course.”

~~~~

Loki wasn’t sure what woke him, but he quickly realized he’d stayed far too long. The fire had died down, the dying embers casting a faint glow about the dark room. Claire lay tucked into his side, her warm body pressed deliciously close. Her hands clutched his bare skin, having wormed beneath his clothes as they slept.

“Norns,” Loki swore under his breath as he spied the blue tinge on the horizon. As much as he was enjoying their current predicament, he needed to leave. “Darling, I have to go.”

“Did we sleep too long?” Claire mumbled.

“A little. Get to bed, little wife.” Claire hummed when Loki kissed her forehead.

“Wait, let me walk you out,” Claire mumbled as she got to her feet. She rubbed her tired eyes as Loki stretched. Claire seized the opportunity and hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest as he returned her affection. “I wish you could stay.”

“I shall see you in just a few hours, darling. Will you miss me terribly?” Claire nodded, eyes slipping closed as he squeezed her tightly.

“Yes,” Claire’s voice was muffled against his chest. “See you soon.”

“Sleep well, my darling,” Loki leaned down to kiss her forehead, but he was taken by surprise when Claire rose up to her tiptoes to kiss him. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in with the spell she cast. Loki let himself be pulled in, any argument dying as his hands skirted beneath her clothes. His fingers danced along her skin, palms bracketing her ribs as his thumbs just grazed the swell of her breasts. “Claire-”

“Sorry, not sorry,” Claire sighed as she released him, trailing her hands through his curly hair before she fully let him go. “I couldn’t help myself.” she grinned mischievously as he brushed her wild hair from her face. Miraculously, her still-damp towel was still on her head, but several locks of hair had escaped.

“Good night,” Loki drew both her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “See you soon.”

[vibingandsimping]

I see you write for skyrim are you interested in crossovers? If so can I tell you my ideas for TES dragonborn coming ov3r to Baldur's Gate and Gortash being interested in her not only for her power but old strings still attached. Maybe she stood against him and he saw her as an equal. Or what about a daedric prince such as Molag Bal trying to invade BG3 because he failed to cross over from Oblivion to Skyrim. Or what about something like the Dark brotherhood in BG3? What about moral conflicted Tav/DB who joined the DB when she was in Skyrim and Gortash finding out then him trying to encourage the darkness in her especially if she's the listener? So she's already prone to hearing the evil whispers of the Night Mother, commanding her assassinations. Gortash would find her ability to shout and control dragons very useful.

Crossovers are definitely an interesting concept! Would be willing to write for them more.

The idea of Durge and being a listener would be… interesting. You’re already serving the purpose as an assassin pre-tadpole as durge. Durge who becomes the listener when the two worlds collide. The Night Mother taking a shining to their ruthless and sadistic nature. Or perhaps a listener who Bhaal takes a liking to? They end up worshipping Bhaal alongside The Night Mother.

Gortash would definitely take an interest in a dragonborn Tav. Previously, Githyanki are the only ones with an affinity to tame dragons and command them. Someone with the natural born ability to not only command them but imitate them? You are truly a force to be reckoned with. He’d want you by his side, Dark Brotherhood or not, promising you anything to get you there. He’ll find a way to return you home, assure you a seat in luxury… whatever it takes. However if he’s telling the truth at all is up for debate. There may be something in his words besides false lies disguised. The praise he sings with his tongue on your strength and his fascination is true. He’d love to see how you worked as a being from another dimension. How did you get to this realm?

Molag Bal invading with you. You’re unbeknownst to it at first- seemingly caught up in this strange world. He followed suite- perhaps the reason you’re here in the first place. You smell trouble when you sense his presence and you knew this would only complicate things. One of the daedric princes always meant something nasty (even if you sold your soul to one or more). Power came corruption.

I also think Orin and Withers would be quite interested in you. Orin, for reasons similar to Gortash, regarding your power and capabilities. Instead of an alliance she wants to see it first hand. To peel back your layers of skin like an onion and sacrifice a being of another realm to Bhaal. Withers in a more practical sense. How did you get here? He’d love to chat and inspect you. Offering you whatever support he could aid in your journey home (or settling down here if it doesn’t warp or rip reality?)

EDIT: FIRM BELIEVER THAT CICERO AND ASTARION WOULD BE FRIENDS.

[bp-zb1fics]

hello !! i just binge watched the bridgerton and i was wondering if you could write something with lee jeonghyeon ! like the reader (it would be a girl but you can change it as nonbinary if you prefer) is secretly dating jeonghyeon, they have a dance/bal and someone is flirting with the reader, you can add whatever you want for the following part like smut or fluff or wtv haha !! btw could the reader be really kind and a bit blunt

Fill your heart with me

pairing: leejeong x fem reader ft. twin brother ricky

genre: regency/bridgerton era au, fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: regency etiquette, gossiping aunties, ricky is lowkey unbothered i guess, except when you call his full christian name, gyuvin is a gorgeous mess as usual, dancing, unwanted attention from some unnamed man, leejeong ex machina, banter, many "improper" kisses, leejeong simp lives on

wc: 1825

summary: your favoured suitor and soon-to-be fiance comes to the ball unexpectedly.

a/n ty anon for this! this is really so late but I really do love this req and i wanted to do it justice so I hope you enjoy~ also! there's a lot of like etiquette at play so this is the source i based it off if anyone's interested! also also xiǎo mèi means little sister (reader is the younger twin lol)

check my pinned for more fics!

“Miss Shen is indeed one of the jewels of the season”

“Certainly, she is of fair face and has many virtues.”

“I’ve been told that she is quite skilled in the art of languages, she plays the pianoforte quite well and her deportment is incomparable.”

“And the Shen family is quite wealthy, any gentleman would consider himself lucky to have her as his bride.”

You pointedly ignore the aunties whispering among themselves as you make your way across the floor. Your mother has taken ill this evening, leaving your brother to escort you around. It wasn’t too bad. If an overeager suitor was not to your liking, all Ricky had to do was stand tall and look down his nose at them. Unfortunately, that also went for the suitors that weren’t too bad as well.

“I didn’t like him, Xiǎo Mèi” He says to you as you both watch the poor man make his way back into the crowd, proverbial tail between his legs.

“Richard,” You hiss, drawing yourself to your full height which doesn’t really do anything since your brother is disgustingly vertically gifted. “You need to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me Richard.”

“It’s what’s proper.”

“And I care because?”

“Ugh, you are infuriating.”

“And you have feathers in your hair.”

If you weren’t wearing one of your best gowns, low cut, splendidly embroidered white satin, trimmed with hideously expensive silver thread, you would have lunged at him already. Instead you settle for squeezing the arm you’re holding a little too hard, glad that your gloves would conceal how your knuckles strain. To your chagrin, you get nothing more than a slight wince.

Fortunately, someone else decides to barrel into him and if your brother was any less steady, he would have been knocked clean off his feet. Meanwhile, you’re fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. Kim Gyuvin may have half the ladies in the room falling over themselves for him but he possessed the grace of a newborn foal and the personality of a rambunctious puppy.

“Ricky-ah!” He greets your brother effusively before turning to you and playfully dipping his head into a pseudo-bow. “Miss Shen.”

“Mr. Kim.” You reply with your own little curtsey. 

There’s nothing more enjoyable than the look on your brother’s face right now. All the eligible ladies on your side of the room are giggling and whispering among themselves, definitely charmed by two of the season’s most eligible bachelors. You would be too, except one of them’s your brother and the other one is just as good as that in everything but name. None of them know about the time Kim Gyuvin threw a fit after your brother called his beloved lapdog something he probably shouldn’t have. You do. It sort of ruined any semblance of his image for you.

“As much as I know your brother makes delightful company,” Gyuvin begins. 

You stifle a giggle beneath your gloved hand. If the whole of polite society wasn’t watching, Ricky would’ve definitely punched him by now. You resist the urge to make an unladylike snort as Gyuvin extends his unnervingly large hand towards you. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Shen?”

“You may.”

You let Gyuvin lead you across the floor. For all of his awkward deportment, you know he has proven time and time again that he is an excellent dancer.

“Is there any lucky gentleman that you have your eye on tonight, Miss Shen?” He asks as you make smooth circles around the room.

“Not particularly, Mr. Kim.” You spin once, the light fabric of your skirt almost floating. “And you? Is there any lucky lady that has caught your attention?”

If Gyuvin had not been a childhood playmate and old friend, then perhaps you would not be so improper. But alas, you’ve known each other from the moment you could toddle. He graces you with a secretive smile.

“Perhaps, we shall see.”

The dance comes to an end a moment later and you give each other a courtesy bow. Gyuvin means to escort you back to your brother but some nosey mother pulls him away, likely to try and introduce her daughter to him. Thus, you are left alone, searching for your brother’s blond head. Unfortunately for you, it seems that your lonesome state has caught the attention of some gentlemen on the hunt.

“Miss Shen, what a pleasure.” A particularly bold one comes up to you. You greet him in kind, although you are well aware that his eyes have fixated themselves on your chest, ogling the low cut of your dress. Still, you must make conversation although you curse the rules of propriety in your head.

“My mother has taken ill this evening unfortunately.” You say trying your best to angle yourself away from his uncomfortable stare and excuse yourself. “So it is my brother who is escorting me this evening. I need to get back to him actually.” 

“Oh well he seems to have stepped out, might I keep you company in his stead?”

You’re about to outrightly tell him to leave you be when a familiar voice speaks up first.

“My apologies but I will be accompanying Miss Shen in the meantime.”

Both you and the man turn. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face when you see your soon-to-be betrothed.

“Mr. Lee, I didn’t know you were joining us tonight.”

“I’m glad that Miss Shen is delighted to see me.” You move forward and take the arm he offers as he turns to the other man who has quite a sour look on his face. “Excuse me, good sir.”

Both of you watch as he leaves with a huff. The ladies and their mamas whisper but you pay them no mind. Soon they would all know anyway. 

Lee Jeonghyeon has been courting you since the season started. He was 2 years your senior, good friends with Ricky and from a family that your parents approved of. Everything had been very private up until now as both your families finally began to talk about a public engagement and an even more public wedding. It was to be expected with both of you coming from aristocracy.

“May you do me a favour of having your next dance, Miss Shen?” He asks you as the quartet hints at the beginning of a waltz.

“You always have my favour, Mr. Lee.” 

You’re already facing him, one of his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you towards him, perhaps a bit closer than the dance called for but with enough space between you to keep it appropriate for the many discerning eyes on you. His other hand holds yours, almost hiding it completely in his grasp. And he looks nowhere but at your face and you would almost feel shy as if his eyes hadn’t traced over your features so many times before. Still, you can’t help but blush at how brazen he is in such a public space.

“In the upcoming events this season,” he murmurs quietly, almost intimate in such a crowded room. “I hope that you could give me the privilege of having your first dance.”

He can have all of them, you would have told him plainly but you need not scandalise the ladies even more. So instead, you say.

“Then that privilege is yours.” The way he looks at you definitely holds almost too much passion for others to look upon.

Later, when you’ve found your brother and Gyuvin again, sharing a drink by the refreshments table, he asks another favour that makes you go completely and unattractively red.

“I heard that the garden is lovely at night, would Miss Shen like to accompany me for a walk outside?”

It’s a bold request. And you’re glad he spoke quietly enough that only your brother and Gyuvin are within earshot. Nevermind that the latter very nearly chokes on his drink. It’s surprising that he’s this shocked considering both of them had the misfortune of walking in on you in the back parlour doing things that were at the height of impropriety (you were just kissing…rather passionately).

Still, you’re suddenly glad your mother is not here but perhaps that is exactly the reason why Jeonghyeon asked. Ricky exchanges glances with you before he speaks.

“If my sister desires it.”

You weigh out the consequences before producing a beatific smile.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, perhaps some air would do us all some good.”

So as the crowd falls into another dance, you slip out, your brother and Gyuvin trailing behind you as a semblance of a chaperone. The garden is indeed beautiful at night. Even better, the foliage is grown enough for both of you to slip behind it, creating a little corner of your own. Meanwhile, your supposed chaperones linger a respectable distance, conversing quietly and letting you have your privacy. Finally, Jeonghyeon’s hands slide to your waist, holding you as closer than earlier. You allow yourself a little impropriety, pouting at him, just a bit.

“You should have informed that you would be attending, Mr. Lee.”

“If it pleases my Lady, I shall give her prior notice on the next occasion.”

Boldly, you stand on your toes and give him the lightest peck, your lips barely brushing his. This time, he flushes, ducking his head like a bashful schoolboy.

“It would please me very much.” You beam up at him. He leans down and catches you in a longer kiss, leaving you breathless as you shove at him gently. “We shouldn’t be so hasty here with so many around.”

“Very well,” he says, looking at you so intimately as if you were the only star in the vast dark sky. “Grant me one last favour this evening then, Miss Shen.”

“And what is it that you desire, Mr. Lee?” His face is still so close to yours that you feel faint.

“My name,” he whispers. “If you could call me by my name this evening, just once, I would be most happy.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. It feels almost illicit to utter something that you’ve only ever addressed him in writing, have murmured in the most quiet of moments. Here, in the garden, where your willingly oblivious chaperones chat among themselves, with the crowd but a doorway apart, with the stars hanging above you to witness. Still you grant him his favour.

“Jeonghyeon.”

It is but an almost silent breath. Yet the way his eyes slowly shut, as if relishing in the moment, makes it feel like so much more. And oh, your heart flutters as he looks at you again, breathes your name into the air between you because it is for you and you alone.

His hands grasp yours gently and everything fades into the background. It’s only him.

“My darling.”

And you let him kiss you again.

[withthewerewolves]

The "Make-Everything-Worse-and-Not-Let-Them-Talk-About-It-For-Even-Longer" AU

Because of who I am as a person, this AU was inevitable. (Sorry guys, I do only have the one kink and I gotta insert it into everything.) (Though to be fair, it turned out to be a much smaller part of the story than intended.)

So, a Nimona mpreg AU. Don’t worry about the how, it could be omegaverse, Ballister could be trans (probably this one), all the residents of the kingdom could be hermaphrodites and that’s perfectly normal, whatever floats your personal boat. 

The important thing is, not long after losing his arm, Ballister realizes he’s pregnant. (As for the arm, I think this would be mostly movie-verse, but with some comic aspects mixed in. The whole thing with the sword and the Queen and Bal’s arm happened like in the movie.) He gets away, gets the bleeding stopped, recovers from the shock, etc, and starts making his prosthetic, maybe thinking about how to prove his innocence. But before he’s done, he starts having Symptoms. Ones that are Distinct enough from arm-chopping symptoms that he has to Think about them. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure it out. He’s pretty smart, and has to be fairly familiar with biology to save himself from blood loss and build a robotic prosthetic. At first, he’s thinking mostly ’This is the worst time in my entire life for this to be happening’, but eventually his practical mind takes a break and his emotional mind gets to loudly trumpet a couple of facts. 

A) The baby is his and Ambrosius’s. It’s something they’d talked about, sometimes, alone together in the dark of their bedroom, when a future seemed not just possible but assured. He remembers the way Ambrosius’s hand had trembled in his, the way his heart had wanted to burst with love and longing. Ambrosius may think he’s a murderer, may have cut off his arm, but Ballister will still love their child with every beat of his black heart. 

And B) The Institute will not let him keep this baby. If he proves his innocence, if he goes back, the Director will send him straight to the medical center to terminate the pregnancy. It’s happened before. Knights are all on birth control as a matter of policy, and have to either retire or ask for a leave of absence before having a baby. It made sense to Ballister, back when it was explained. They were the shield between the kingdom and the darkness. No one could be out of commission unexpectedly. But some years ago, a knight had become pregnant, either on purpose or because of a failure in the birth control, and she had been offered a choice: end the pregnancy or end her career as a knight. If Ballister had thought about it, he would’ve said he’d make the same choice she did, that being a knight was his calling. But when this thought first occurs to him, while digging around the back of the cupboards for the naan bread he knows is in there, he has to sink to the floor and put his head between his knees. 

That’s the moment his belief in the Institute suffers its first crack. 

The second won’t come for a couple of years, when his beautiful healthy baby turns into a butterfly right before his eyes. 

He definitely panics. His whole life for the last few years has been about Nimona and taking care of Nimona and keeping Nimona safe, and now she can shapeshift? That’s going to complicate so many things, upend an already delicate balance. 

The Institute would kill her in a second, just for existing. Ambrosius might kill her without even thinking about it. Anyone in the kingdom might kill her, if they decide she’s a monster. 

He does a couple of noninvasive tests, trying to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t find anything conclusive, and the next time he sets Nimona on the worktable and pulls out a needle, she bursts into tears. She won’t let him comfort her until he puts the needle away. What am I even doing? he thinks. What does it matter why she can shift? She’s his daughter. He sets aside his experiments. But he doesn't give up.

He’s broken into the Institute before, for parts for his arm he couldn’t get anywhere else, but he doesn’t get caught until he breaks into the labs. He curses at himself the entire time he’s running away, he should have known the scientists don’t care about normal working hours. He fiddles with his prosthetic in the middle of the night all the time. 

He goes back later, after the fuss has died down. He had to leave his apartment and his job, with his face all over the news, dredging up the mess of the knighting ceremony and restarting the hunt for his head. (How did he get an apartment and a job when he was the most notorious killer in the city, you ask? He shaved his facial hair and nobody recognized him. He accidentally ran into Todd in the street once and Todd was an asshole about it. And didn’t recognize him.) He doesn’t watch the interview with Ambrosius. 

Ambrosius has grown out his hair. 

This time, Ballister brings tranq shots, and leaves all the techs and guards slumped over on the floor while he rifles through their files. 

He finds what he’s looking for. He finds a whole lot more than he was expecting. He sits in the darkened lab until the first guard starts to wake, thinking about what he found. He steals all the files, deleting them as he goes. He doesn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t tell you, either. 

He never trusts another word the Director or the Institute says. 

For a while, he helps Nimona learn to control her shifts. First to shift into what she wants (they break into a zoo after hours and she shifts into every single one of them. (Where does a giant enclosed city get zoo animals, you ask? Don’t worry about it, that’s where.) Bal hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time), then to suppress shifts if there’s anyone else around. Not shifting leaves her drained and sullen. He makes her practice all the time, even when it’s just the two of them in the little abandoned tower near the Wall they move into. 

She’s maybe five or six when Ballister gives up on that. She shifts, and he scolds her. She throws a tantrum, and of course that involves more shifting. He checks that the blankets are still over the windows, that there’s no way anyone can see in. 

“Nimona, honey, shifting is dangerous,” he pleads. They’ve been lucky so far, but she’s just a kid, and she’s bound to lose control someday, unless he locks her up in the tower all the time. 

“But - I - have to!” she screams, little gorilla fists hitting the floor, then talons scrabbling at it. 

“Sometimes there are things you can’t do,” he says, carefully not thinking about himself, “No matter how much you want to.”

“But - it - hurtsssss!” she shrieks out of the beak of some sort of large bird. 

Ballister frowns. “It hurts?” he asks, “The shifting?” 

Nimona must sense the change in his tone, because she’s a human again, her big eyes blurred with tears, her face still red with anger. “Not shifting,” she says on a sob. 

A horrible little ball starts to grow in Ballister’s throat. “It hurts when you don’t shift?” he rasps out. 

Nimona screws up her face, calmer now that he’s listening to her, but her breath still hitching. “It doesn’t hurt hurt,” she says. “It feels - bad. Not like scraping my knee, or the dreams. Not like eating pineapple. But bad.” (She has absolutely horrid nightmares. She screams until his desperate efforts finally wake her, and then she sobs herself back to sleep in his arms. He has his suspicions about where the dreams come from, and he’s working on a sleep drug that’s safe for her. She’s also allergic to pineapple, it makes her sick to her stomach. He doesn’t think about where he learned how to monitor allergies.) 

Ballister sits on the ground next to her and opens his arms. She crawls into them and rests her head on his chest. He presses his face into her long red hair. The color had baffled him when she was born, nothing like any of the portraits at Ambrosius’s house or his memories of his parents. She turns into a snake and coils herself around his shoulders. 

“Ok,” he says. 

She hisses an inquisitive sound into his ear. 

“Ok,” he says again. “Shift all you want inside the tower. If you need to shift somewhere else, tell me and I’ll help you get somewhere safe.” 

The snake turns into a dog, wriggling in his arms and licking his face frantically. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “The rules about keeping our mouths to ourselves still apply.” To punctuate this point, he grabs her and presses loud kisses wherever he can reach. She turns into a squirrel and scampers out of his reach, laughing along. 

He thinks, I’ll keep her safe, even if I have to tear down the whole kingdom to do it. 

~O~

Ambrosius doesn’t know any of this. From his perspective, Bal killed the Queen and ran off after Ambrosius chopped off his arm. No one knows anything about him. Ambrosius tries to remind himself that no one had found a body either, but that comfort is colder and colder as the years wear on. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think. He’s basically a robot for weeks after the knighting ceremony. They don’t let him help with the search, and he doesn’t argue. He isn’t sure if he wants them to find Ballister or not, but they never do. 

Then, years later, Ballister breaks into the Institute labs. The security cameras have a good picture of him, when Ambrosius manages to hack into them (he doesn’t want to see the look on the Director’s face if he asks to see the tape). Ballister looks older, more than just a few years should account for. He’s dressed in all black, with a cape swirling around him as he flees the scene of his crime. His hair is longer. His beard is gone. His face is set in furious concentration. 

He’s alive. 

And his right arm is made of wires and cables rather than flesh. 

A reporter asks him about it, while he’s out on Institute business. He gets out something about how Ballister should come in so he can face justice, but he’s heard what the other knights are saying. Would there be justice, or a quiet murder after an ‘escape attempt’? He tries to tell himself that he and the Director could ensure a fair trial. All he really wants is to know why Bal did it. Was killing the Queen his plan all along? Was any of their friendship or courtship real? 

Then Ballister breaks in again. This time he leaves a trail of unconscious scientists and knights in his wake. The Director confirms that he’s stolen some data, but no one knows how much, or to what purpose. 

There are more break-ins, at Institute labs and storehouses across the kingdom. Sometimes Ballister takes data, sometimes medical supplies, sometimes lab supplies. There’s always destruction. People die. The Director tells him that the death of one of the scientists will set their defense research back ten years. 

At first, the Director tries to keep him out of it, either out of respect for his prior relationship with Ballister, or not trusting him to do the right thing. Then Ballister robs a bank, and the people clamor for the descendant of Gloreth to protect them. 

The first time he sees Ballister face to face, they’re locking swords while another lab burns behind them. Ballister wins. Ambrosius doesn’t know if he held back, but Ballister sure didn’t. Ambrosius has never seen Ballister that angry. Was this the face hiding behind Ballister’s earnest smile all along? 

The next time they meet, Ballister is like stone, unstoppable, impenetrable, and cold. He barely speaks. He takes down every single knight the Institute sends, and only Ambrosius even slows him down. 

Rinse, repeat. 

Before Ambrosius knows it, it’s been fifteen years since he was knighted. It isn’t anything like he thought it would be. Everyone acts like his whole job is to be Ballister’s nemesis. He hardly ever gets to help people directly, like he used to. None of the other knights talk to him. The Director only calls him to her office to lecture him on his duties and how he’s failing at them. His skin care routine now involves covering the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he keeps his hair long even though it’s against regulation because washing it is the only pleasant sensation in his life sometimes. All his happy memories are tainted by Ballister’s betrayal. 

Then Ambrosius meets Ballister’s new sidekick. 

The first time she shows up, Ballister clearly didn’t invite her. Ambrosius nearly catches them because Ballister is distracted by yelling at a pink-haired teenager in some sort of chainmail tunic. 

It hurts, a little, because he’s clearly worried about her. He used to worry about Ambrosius like that, when Ambrosius fought the other trainees who were cruel to Ballister. 

Then the kid turns into a dragon. 

Is this who Ballister would rather care about? Rather spend his time with? This is the life he chose over Ambrosius? 

The destruction is worse than usual. Civilians are too close. A little kid nearly gets crushed, but she picks up a sword and fends the dragon off all by herself. Ambrosius feels another stab of fury for Ballister. The Queen wanted to accept more common children into the Institute, but because of his actions, that little girl will never have the chance to become a knight. 

The Director calls Ambrosius to her office, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t yell at him. She takes him down into the Institute archives, where the really old scrolls are. She shows him a picture of the dragon, the same dragon, fighting Gloreth. While he’s wrestling with the idea of a thousand year old monster, she sends the rest of the guards away, and tells him something else. 

“The files about it must have been among the first he destroyed,” the Director says, her voice hard. “He didn’t want us to know what he had taken. If I hadn’t been read into the project, we might have no idea what we’re up against.” 

“Ballister took the monster…from the Institute?” Ambrosius asks. His mind has gone fuzzy. 

“It doesn’t die,” the Director says, taking him by the shoulders and shaking lightly. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him. “When she realized she couldn’t kill it, Gloreth sealed it away. We’ve been trying to destroy it for a thousand years, and Blackheart has Let. It. Out.” 

If Ambrosius could remember feeling warm, he might go cold. “But…if he’s had it all these years, why hasn’t he used it against us before now?” Maybe Ballister doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it had pretended to be that teenaged girl it had first appeared to be. You saw it shapeshift, he thinks, You saw Ballister see it shapeshift. Did he look surprised to you? 

The Director shakes her head. “We couldn’t destroy it, but we could keep it small. He’s probably been biding his time all these years, waiting for it to grow up enough to be really dangerous.” 

Something about that sentence seems off to Ambrosius, but before he can think about it too much, the Director catches his eyes and holds them. “It is imperative for the safety of the kingdom that we contain the monster. It cannot be allowed to hurt anyone else.” 

Ambrosius has never tried to talk to Ballister directly before. He’s played that first fight over and over again in his mind. Ballister had frozen, at first. So had Ambrosius, if he’s honest with himself. He’d wanted to beg Ballister to come back, to promise that they could fix it. He must not have phrased it well. Ballister had been so angry, and eventually Ambrosius had given up on words. But this time is different, he tells himself. Ballister must see that this is bigger than petty theft and vandalism. He didn't want the monster there. Maybe he knows it's dangerous. Maybe he regrets taking it. Maybe he needs help getting rid of it. 

He's still skulking around the outer ring looking for black capes (being a full time nemesis leaves a lot of time for skulking), when the call comes in. He's only too glad to abandon his original idea for the more elegant plan of waiting until all the other knights are moaning on the floor or evacuating the burning manufactory and he and Ballister have locked swords to lean in and hiss "Nachos?" 

Ballister looks at him like he's lost his mind. Then his monster crashes through the manufactory roof with a hunk of machinery in her claws, Ballister disarms (Ambrosius mentally winces, but he's used to it by now) him in three easy moves. There's a cascading crash as the monster (presumably) drops her prize. When the debris settles, both of them are gone. 

Ambrosius goes to the Antlered Serpent as soon as he's done debriefing with the Director. She's furious. The scientists have been working around the clock to produce something to stop the monster, and yet the knights, especially Ambrosius, failed to so much as slow it down. She tells Ambrosius that if he can’t recapture it cleanly he’ll have to start the containment process in the field. She describes enough of the process that he promises to catch it next time just so he can get out of her office before he vomits. He knows it’s a monster, but what if it tries to look like a person again? Can he do that to someone? (Can he even do it to a monster?)

He has to talk to Ballister. 

He sits in the Antlered Serpent all night, trying desperately to stay awake. He drinks coffee until he’s shaking. He doesn’t order any nachos. Thousands of possible conversations swim through his thoughts, but none of the opening words are right. The sun starts to rise. He thinks maybe he would wait forever rather than go back to the Institute, but the owner kicks him out when they close. 

What’s he supposed to do now? 

Only his knight training stops him from falling over when an arm snakes out of an alley and drags him in as he passes. He twists, slamming the assailant against the alley wall, but they dart out of his hold. His sword is drawn before he recognizes the facial hair peeking out of the shadow of the cloak’s hood. 

“Ballister?” 

Ballister’s expression doesn’t change, but he nods to a set of shabby folding chairs set next to a dumpster. There’s a take out container on one of them. “I didn’t want this conversation to be overheard,” he says, voice hard. 

Ambrosius hesitates for a moment, but it’s too late to back out. It’s been too late for a very long time. The sound of his sword sliding back into its scabbard scares a flock of birds off a nearby roof. He sits in the empty chair, his armor sounding like destruction in the silence of the early morning. Ballister huffs, just like he used to do when Todd said something annoying, and hands Ambrosius the take out container. While Ballister is settling into the other chair (no less noisily, Ambrosius thinks smugly), he opens it. 

“Nachos?” he asks, a little incredulous. 

“Don’t worry, there’s no olives,” Ballister sneers, “It’s not poisoned either.” 

Ambrosius is pretty sure that if Ballister was going to kill him, he’d have done it years ago. His stomach chooses that moment to remember that he’s had nothing but coffee all day. He eats a nacho. It tastes like better times. He flips the lid closed again. 

“It’s about your sidekick,” he says. 

“My daughter. I thought it might be,” Ballister says. His jaw is clenched tight. 

“Your what?” Ambrosius asks, thrown. 

“My daughter,” Ballister says. His eyes narrow. Ambrosius has a flash of how Ballister’s eyes used to look, wide and gentle and kind. He wonders if the warmth in them was only ever in his head. “If you can’t call her that, we have nothing to talk about.” 

Before Ballister can get up, Ambrosius says, “Your daughter then. Ballister.” He has to stop. The single nacho feels like worms in his stomach. Ballister’s daughter. Gloreth. That thing made Ballister see it as his daughter? 

Ballister doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t leave either. 

Once Ambrosius has pulled himself together, he manages, “They want me to kill her.” 

“You tried to kill her today,” Ballister says, voice cold. “Is killing children what heroes do these days?” 

Maybe if he’d slept sometime in the last 36 hours he could have stopped himself. Maybe if he hadn’t just sat through the Director explaining in exquisite detail what heroes are expected to do to monsters, he could have stayed silent. Maybe if Ballister wasn’t sitting here looking both like a stranger and like the man he’d once thought he’d see across the breakfast table every morning, he could have kept his words in the back of his throat where they belong. 

But all those things are true. So he says, “How would you know? You never even tried to be a hero.” 

He half expects Ballister to fly off the handle, but instead Ballister pins him with that icy stare, mouth tight. There are wrinkles around it that weren’t there 15 years ago. He wonders if they’re smile lines or frown lines. 

“The Institute was never going to let me be a hero,” he says, as if it’s a fact of life. As if it was carved into the stone of the Wall. As if he’s raged about it, cried about it, examined it from every angle, and finally accepted it. Fire is hot, water is wet, there are monsters at the gates, and Ballister was never going to be allowed to be a hero. 

It makes Ambrosius want to punch him. Who had accepted him into the Institute in the first place? Who had spent hours lecturing him on noble social etiquette even when he continued to make mistakes? Who had excitedly selected his second favorite sword to gift to the new trainee? “You can’t blame the Institute for how your life turned out! You made the choice to kill the Queen!” 

Ballister is on his feet so quickly the chair falls backward with a crash. “You really believe that? After everything, after all this time, you really think I killed the Queen?” 

Ambrosius stands too, the nachos scattering at his feet. His exhausted brain is sharpening with adrenaline, but everything seems to be moving a little too fast, as if his eyes are on a half second delay and his mind is trying to compensate. “I was standing right next to you Bal, I saw you kill her.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ballister snarls. “And if I recall correctly, you weren’t standing right next to me. I very distinctly remember a sword’s length of distance, specifically, between your hand and my arm.” 

Ballister has never said anything about his arm. In all this time, all those meetings over flashing blades, he’s never thrown this at Ambrosius. Maybe he knew it would land true. Maybe all those fights were Ballister playing with his food. 

Ambrosius can’t stop himself. He looks at Ballister’s metal arm. He can’t look away from it. It’s oddly beautiful, with the pre-dawn light glinting off of it. Each finger is individually articulated, all the joints perfect and sanded smooth, at odds with the scuffed and scratched metal of the forearm. He wants to examine every inch of it. He wants to smash it to pieces. He wants to have never touched anything sharper than a butter knife. 

“I’m so…sorry.” He doesn’t mean to say that either. His mouth and his eyes have both betrayed him. Well, they’re in good company. “For your arm.” 

He doesn’t realize Ballister is moving until his back hits the other side of the alley. Dimly, he registers that he should be afraid. Ballister was always the better fighter, but Ambrosius was no slouch, he could defend himself. But with his current state of distraction and sleep deprivation, he doesn’t stand a chance. The fear never comes. 

Ballister is pressed against him, closer than he’s been in more than a decade. Their armor clinks softly where it rubs together. His face is so close that Ambrosius can make out every wrinkle, every gray hair. It hurts like a kick to the gut that he didn’t get to see them grow in. Time stops for just a second, just long enough for something in Ambrosius, something he’d thought long since starved to death, to wake up and roar its desperation. It’s all he can do not to reach out and pull Ballister closer. 

Ballister wouldn’t be receptive. He’s lost his icy calm, the way he hasn’t since that first fight. With his face twisted in fury, he somehow looks younger, just the way Ambrosius remembers him. 

“I don’t care about the arm!” he yells. It seems to echo between them, no place for the sound to escape to. “After all this time, that’s all you have to say? That you’re sorry about my arm?” 

“I am sorry!” Ambrosius yells back. He doesn’t mean to be yelling, they’re close enough that he could whisper, but the words come out at a yell anyway. “I hurt you, and I did it without even thinking! You! It shouldn’t matter what you’d done! I thought I’d killed you!” He’s going to cry. He hasn’t cried in years, and he’s going to break that streak in front of this man. Well. Better Ballister than anyone else, he supposes. 

Ballister makes a sound, like a roar of rage stifled by a sob. “You should have known me,” he says, quieter but raw, like it hurts his throat on the way out. “You should have known I wouldn’t do something like that.” 

Ambrosius barely processes the words, because Bal (and it is Bal now) slumps forward and buries his face in Ambroius’s shoulder, and Ambrosius’s arms come up on instinct (oh how he wishes he didn’t have instincts) to wrap around him, draw him as close as he can get.

His lungs are too tight. It’s been so long since anyone touched him, and it’s Bal, his best friend, the man he loves (still, he has never been able to deny in the privacy of his own mind that he loves him still), the person he has missed like a limb. Maybe they both left a part of themselves on that arena floor. 

Bal’s hair is as soft as ever when Ambrosius curls into him. The gray glints in the weak sunlight like silver threads. Bal’s breath puffs warm, wet, and ragged against his throat. Somehow the flesh hand ended up wrapped tight around his upper arm, the metal one tangled in his hair. He thinks he might explode. All this time he’s been a keg of blasting powder, and he hadn’t even known Bal is a match. 

Then the words trickle in. “Ballister,” he says, slowly enough to let the thought finish forming. “Are you saying you didn’t kill the Queen?” 

Bal goes completely still. Then he slowly withdraws his hand from Ambrosius’s hair, so careful not to snag any of the strands. He pulls back. His eyes are red but the fury has drained out of him. He looks as tired as Ambrosius feels, worn down to the bones. 

“No, Ambrosius. I didn’t.” 

It’s been so long since anyone has used his first name, he’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like. Ballister was always the only one who did. He used to love the way it sounded on Bal’s tongue, the way his accent hugged the last syllable. It doesn’t sound like it used to, but it hurts all the same. Not as much as everything else, though. 

Early on, he’d doubted. It hadn’t made any sense. Ballister loved the Queen, maybe not quite like a mother or quite like a goddess, but something like the two combined. Or he’d seemed to. He’d seemed excited to be a knight, open and affectionate to Ambrosius, kind to the street kids who sometimes came up to him on patrol. A years-long plot of deceit and infiltration culminating in assassination didn’t seem his style. And yet, the Queen was dead. His image of Ballister could never fit what he’d done, but he’d seen him do it. Therefore, it was his image that was incorrect. 

Wasn’t it? 

But he’d never managed to come up with a motive. 

Ballister holds his gaze, but his eyes are full of resignation. He doesn’t expect Ambrosius to believe him. 

Does Ambrosius believe him?

It would be insane to take the word of a man who has spent the last fifteen years terrorizing the populace, defying the Institute, and trampling the peace and order and safety that the Institute provides. It would be insane to take the word of a man he hasn’t spoken to in a decade and a half. It would be insane to take the word of a villain. 

But Gloreth help him, Ambrosius does believe him. 

His legs abruptly decide not to hold his weight, and he slides down the wall to sit on the ground. “But - why?” It’s not the question he wants to ask. He doesn’t know what question he wants to ask. Gloreth, if he accepts this as true, what does it push out of alignment? What parts of his worldview does he have to sacrifice to make room for Ballister being innocent? (If he’s innocent then Ambrosius cut off his arm for nothing.) 

“I don’t know why,” Ballister says. He hasn’t moved, and probably Ambrosius should feel vulnerable crouching at his feet. If it were anyone else, probably he would. 

“You don’t know why?” Ambrosius snaps. “It’s been fifteen years, and you didn’t investigate?” 

He doesn’t look away from the patch of concrete between Ballister’s boots, but he can hear the frown in his voice. “Of course I investigated. I know who, and I know how. But she didn’t exactly leave records of her thought process.” 

That snaps him out of it. The back of his head bounces off the wall, but the pain is nothing to the need to see Ballister’s face. “You have records? Proof? You could clear your name?” 

He’s seen Ballister frown plenty in the last fifteen years. Some were furious, some were intent, some spoke to a kind of focus that Ambrosius had to forget about until after Ballsiter had inevitably won the duel and Ambrosius was alone in his dorm. This frown isn’t what he’s used to seeing. It looks confused, unsure, lost like Ballister had been when he’d first started training. 

“What use would that be?” 

“Bal,” he coughs, the name sticking in his throat. He’s been saying it a lot, enjoying how it feels in his mouth, even if it hurts on the way up his throat. “Ballister. If we can prove your innocence, you can come back. Be a knight again, a hero.” Be with me, he doesn’t say. 

Ballister takes a long, slow breath. It whistles through his nose. He always did get sinus problems in the spring, Ambrosius thinks wildly. Ballister blows the breath out through his mouth, just as slow. Then he says, “I should have known this conversation was a mistake.” 

Ambrosius flinches like he’s been slapped. “What?” His legs are a little steadier now, so he pushes himself to his feet. Ballister steps back, putting distance between them. 

“I will never go back to the Institute,” he says. 

Ambrosius waits a minute for him to go on, but he doesn’t. “Why not?” It seems like a reasonable question. Bal had been happy training to be a knight, hadn’t he? He’d been the best of all of them. The last fifteen years have certainly proven that. 

Ballister scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know if I have the energy to take you through it all,” he says, and his voice sounds like he honestly is just tired, rather than trying to keep secrets. 

“Can you…give me the quick version?” Gloreth, anything. This has made no sense since the moment that sword turned green, and Ambrosius hadn’t even known how much he needed to understand until it had his chest in a vice. 

Ballister’s laugh sounds strangled, not at all like the restrained chuckle he used to have. Ambrosius thinks he might like it, under other circumstances. “I’m not sure there is a quick version.” But he rights his folding chair and sits down, motioning to the other one. Ambrosius takes it. “Might as well start with the proof,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Ambrosius’s armor doesn’t let him access his pockets. He’s a little jealous. 

When Ballister passes over the device with a video queued, he has to stop himself from grabbing it like a starving person might grab bread. Instead he takes it carefully and presses play. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks quietly when it’s over. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s feeling a lot of things, or nothing. All the emotions are crowding together and preventing any from getting through, like commuters boarding the subway. 

“From the squire,” Ballister says, taking the phone back. “I needed to know what had happened, even if I already knew it wouldn’t change anything.” 

“Why wouldn’t it change anything?” It’s hard to get the words out. He’s feeling things now. He’s feeling that Ballister could have come back to him right at the start and he’d chosen not to. 

Ballister looks at him for a long time, or at least it feels like it. A thousand years, maybe. Or fifteen. Then he seems to come to a decision, breathes deep again, and says, “Because I already knew I was pregnant.” 

The words don’t make sense, like a bad translation from another language, and then they slot into place. “You were - you -” It’s hard to get his head between his knees with the armor on, but he manages. The roaring in his ears doesn’t stop, but the edges of his vision start to fade back in. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, “That’s how I took it, too.” 

“What happened?” he chokes out. He wishes he could take the words back. He really doesn’t want to know. He can’t bear not knowing. 

Ballister shrugs. “You tried to kill her.” 

A wave of horror swamps him, like a thunderstorm rolling over the Wall. He gags on the single nacho, on having hurt his family again. Why does he keep doing that? He shouldn’t be allowed to have family. If he keeps this up, he won’t. 

"She’s our daughter?" Oh, this is going to come back to haunt him. If he has nightmares about killing their kid before he even met her, will they replace some of the old nightmares about cutting off Ballister’s arm? Or will it be cumulative? 

Ballister makes a noise, but Ambrosius can't look up to see what his face is doing. The nachos are spread out beneath his feet like disposable toy soldiers. There aren't any olives. 

“She’s my daughter,” he says, firmly. “Genetics be damned.” 

Is that worse? To discover he has a child, fifteen years too late to be of any use to anyone, and then be immediately denied any claim on her? By the man he still loves, the man he had wanted to raise children with back when he saw the world with rose-tinted glasses rather than bleak fluorescent clarity? 

He knows this isn’t really a defense, but he says it anyway. “If I contributed half her DNA-” Oh Gloreth, if he contributed half her DNA then she’s a descendant of Gloreth too. Is that why Bal never told anyone about her? He could almost forgive that. 

But no, Ballister immediately shakes his head. “You didn’t.” 

Ambrosius shoots him an incredulous glance over one arm. “Come on, I know you didn’t cheat on me.” 

Ballister makes a noise again, this one more like a strangled laugh. There was a time when Ambrosius had known all Bal's noises, when they were as familiar and comforting as birdsong outside his window. He wants to hoard them, catalog every single one, compare them to the old sounds. He keeps his head between his knees. “You can believe regicide but not that I’d cheat on you?” 

“Well, did you?” Ambrosius hasn’t. Not for all these years, even though their relationship was clearly over and his parents have given up on him contributing to the bloodline the usual way and started talking about surrogates. Probably they’ll want to raise their hypothetical grandchild, since he’ll be too busy losing sword fights with Ballister. 

There’s a pause. “No,” Ballister says, sullen. Then, “She doesn’t have any of my DNA either. That doesn’t make me any less her father.” 

Ambrosius isn’t going to argue that, but he does say, “Where did she come from, then?” Parts of his conversation with the Director creep back into his thoughts. She’d said the Institute had her. Oh no, what if some action of Ambrosius’s (the searches? He could have pretended to search the city and led the knights in the wrong direction but he hadn’t. But how was he to know which direction was wrong?) had caused Ballister to lose the baby and then he’d snuck back into the Institute for something (to talk to Ambrosius?) and found baby Nimona there and in his grief, decided to raise her as his own? 

No, that’s a soap opera. Also, why would the Institute have a baby sitting around? 

Ballister sighs, long and noisy. “I thought she was ours, biologically I mean. She didn’t look like either of us, but what do I care about the chances of someone who looks like me and someone who looks like you producing a red haired, light skinned baby? She’s my daughter, and I was too busy trying not to get caught while keeping her fed and dry to worry much about her looks.” He pulls in another long, noisy breath. Ambrosius thinks he could sit up, but maybe this conversation is better had without eye contact. 

“Then, she started shifting.” There’s a rough sound, like Ballister is rubbing his flesh hand through his facial hair. “I knew what the Institute, what you, would think about her, the life she’d have to lead to stay safe, to keep her secret. I’d have done anything to spare her that. But she is who she is, and I wouldn’t change her.” His voice is laced with fondness. It’s as familiar as the ache in his muscles after a hard day training, and the pain of it feels good in the same way. He’s glad Ballister hasn’t been alone. “I don’t know why I was so sure the Institute would have information on people like her. I’d never been allowed in the labs. But if they did know anything, that’s where it would be. So I broke in-”

“I saw the security tape,” Ambrosius blurts out. 

Silence. Then, “Oh?” 

“From the first break in,” Ambrosius clarifies. “You looked-” his voice cracks. He coughs. “I didn’t know, before that, that you had survived.” He used to have the most vivid waking nightmares, about Ballister’s corpse rotting in some back alley or forgotten basement, unidentifiable except for the missing right arm bones. He’d been afraid both that his love did give them some psychic connection and those visions were because Ballister was dead, and that they didn’t and he’d grow old and die without ever knowing. His mother taught him some grounding exercises, and he’d stopped letting the visions take over. Ballister was alive. He had to be. And then he saw the security tape. Ballister was alive! But he was as lost to Ambrosius as he ever had been. 

He wants to demand to know why Bal never tried to talk to him back then, but he knows the answer. Would he have believed him? He’d never stopped believing, deep down in the very bottom of his heart, that Bal wouldn’t do something like that, but that was exactly why he could never give it any weight. It had been made very clear to him that he couldn’t trust his own judgment. If he was asked to choose between the love of his life, who he may have never known at all, and the life that was still shiny around the edges, what would he have done? He doesn’t know, so he stays quiet. 

Ballister is quiet for long enough that he thinks about raising his head to look, then says, “You didn’t kill me,” in the quiet, low, rumbling voice that he always thought no one ever heard but him. Maybe he uses it with Nimona. 

With a cough, Ballister says, “We’re getting off topic.” 

“I see what you mean about there not being a quick version,” Ambrosius says. His neck hurts, so he sits up. The roaring in his ears doesn’t come back, but one look at Ballister is too much for his heart. He looks resolutely at the wall across the alley. 

“This is the important part, probably,” Ballister says. 

“You did find her in the Institute, didn’t you?” He remembers the Director telling him just the day before that Ballister had stolen the shapeshi - Nimona - from the Institute. That doesn’t fit what Ballister is telling him. Who does he believe? He forces himself to be skeptical. This whole mess happened because he’d blindly believed too many people, and gone into a tailspin when they conflicted. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, biting off the words like he could crush them between his molars. He sighs. “It turns out they had a lot of information on her.” 

Did the files talk about what you had to do (what they did) to contain someone like Nimona? Was Ballister forced to read about the uncaring, impersonal torture of his infant daughter? Ambrosius doesn’t let himself think about it. He sort of understands why Ballister might blow up a lab or two after that. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ambrosius sees Ballister working his jaw to contain his anger, just like he had when Todd and the others went after him and he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. His voice is low and defeated when he says, “I don’t know why the Director did it. This can’t have been her plan. Maybe she hadn’t come up with the sword idea yet. Maybe they needed an expendable test subject. Maybe she thought the pregnancy would kill me. They’d done it before with that result. Maybe she intended to use Nimona for some purpose and she switched my sword so I’d be in a convenient dungeon. Maybe the scientists acted alone. Probably I’ll never know. It isn’t important in the long run.”

Isn’t important? How could Ballister look at the event that changed his life, stripped his hopes and dreams away, left him alone and injured and pregnant and on the run, that took him from Ambrosius, and say it isn’t important? 

Ballister huffs a little laugh, just like he used to, nearly silent so no one but Ambrosius could hear. “I guess I can confirm one of my suspicions. That medical exam a few weeks before the knighting ceremony. It wasn’t…weirdly invasive for the rest of you, was it?” 

Ambrosius curls his hands, wishing the gloves weren’t there so he could dig his nails into the meat of his palms. He wants to hurt something, even if it’s only himself. “No.” 

Ballister nods grimly. “That’s when they did it, then.” 

Why? Why would anyone do that? He never liked that he couldn’t come up with a motive for Ballister. Is there a motive for the Director in this turn of events? 

“She’s been leaning pretty hard on you being a commoner and reaching above your station and putting us all in danger,” he says, slowly. Is that a motive? It’s absurd. She saw how hard Bal worked just like the rest of them. She knew how good he was. Would she really do any of this? Would Ballister do what she said he’d done? Ballister had proof for the sword being switched. Did he have proof for this too? “You deleted all the files about Nimona.” 

“I stole them,” Ballister corrects. “And then I tracked down every scientist who had ever been a part of her project, and I killed them. I destroyed the labs, anywhere there might be evidence, anywhere they might try to hold her. I’ll keep doing it.” 

So Ballister really had killed those scientists. Some of the deaths attributed to him couldn’t have been part of the original project, they were barely out of the Academy. Had they been collateral? Did they know something? Did Ballister care? 

“Why are you telling me this?” It scrapes in his throat, catching on every day that Ballister hadn’t told him this. “What do you want me to do?” 

For the first time in his retelling, Ballister catches his eyes and holds them. “Because you tried to kill her today.” His eyes slip away, never letting anything tether him to Ambrosius for long. “And I thought that if you knew, knew that she was just a kid, you might not kill her next time.” He looks up at the slowly lightening sky. Has this whole conversation fit in the space it takes the sun to clear the walls? It feels like this conversation has stretched forever, back to the beginning of time. Like this conversation has been happening in the background for their entire lives, just waiting for this alley, these rusted chairs, this dawn. “Stupid of me, I suppose.” 

“Of course I’m not going to kill her!” Ambrosius bursts out. “I’ve been clinging to hope all night that you might have some way for me to not have to kill her!” He has, hasn’t he. That’s what this whole thing with the nachos was about. He knew he couldn’t do it and he wanted an excuse. But there isn’t an excuse, not really. It’s the same question he’s been asking for fifteen fucking years. 

What will he choose; Ballister, with all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with him? Or his duty, and all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with the Institute? He’d thought, once, that he could have both. Now he knows for sure that he can’t, that they’re opposing chess players and he can only wear one color. A knight can only have one king. 

If he chooses his duty, this legacy that will crush him under its weight, he’ll have to admit that he’s a coward. 

If he chooses Ballister, the man he loves, the teenager he never got to raise, he’ll have to admit that he made the wrong choice fifteen years ago. 

Ambrosius Goldenloin is a lot of things, but he isn’t a coward, and he isn’t afraid to admit to his mistakes. 

He asks, again, “What do you want me to do?”

[starrycassi]

Ambrosius's (indirect) champion.

Find part one here

"It's oficial. You've gone crazy"

Ambrosius, who feels thrilled with his idea, scoffs. In a quick move, he drags Ballister down to the bed, pulling him by the wrists, making the boy's head fall directly in his own chest. Had this been practice, he knows he probably would've gotten a punch to the ribs in retaliation. But they are in private, they are just teens, and Ballister allows his boyfriend to drag him down.

"Don't call me that, babe" Ambrosius whines, while Ballister tries to regain some of his dignity by lifting himself up with his arms to establish some sort of distance. "I'll cry"

"Ambrosius, this is not funny" finally managing to get on his hand and knees, Ballister stares down at his boyfriend, frowning. "This is incredibly concerning and serious"

Ambrosius pouts for a second, and giggles to himself after giving Ballister a quick kiss on the lips. He is scared, oh, so scared. He wants to cry and run and scream and punch and the best alternative he has right now is to be pretend to be charming with his boyfriend, but every good thing must come to an end, and he has to face reality.

They sit down, again, in the bed, face to face. Ambrosius's sudden burst of energy leaves as fast it came, leaving him with a dull sense of... confusion. Nothingness.

"You haven't heard my plan" he tries to grin at his boyfriend, hoping that his eyebags aren't nearly as big as he feels them be. "Come on. Let me tell you, and then you can say no"

They look at each other for some seconds, and Ballister gives in, the second Ambrosius brings out his best card on the whole deck: tears.

Crying on command is a pretty useful skill to have, Ambrosius's come to find out. He doesn't go all the way out with it, no this time, but he knows his eyes are watery and his nose is red. Ballister looks away, groaning.

"Fine!" He resigns, throwing his hands up to the heavens. "But if your plan is "something, something, we win" again, I'm out. I'm so out. You're going to have to ask Todd for help"

Ambrosius gasps, offended at the barbarity his boyfriend just said. How dares he? The old "fuck it, we ball" plan has never let them down, but this isn't the moment to bask in the glory of all of their past accomplishments.

"Okay, so..." he starts, taking in a big breath of air. This is going to be long, and troublesome. Sometimes he's sorry for Ballister, who has to learn all of this things as they go, unlike him, who's been memorizing the rules ever since he learned to read. "The duels, right. Not all noble families train their kids to be knigths. Not all knights are heirs, either. If you have an older sibling or just aren't the favor, then you're probably not a heir. Follow me?"

Ballister, who loves learning about new stuff, even if it's nobility rubbish, nods along, "Follow you"

"I am the sole heir of the family, so I have obligations. You already know this. One of those is to keep up alliances and all that stuff"

Nodding again, Ballister chuckles a bit. Of course he knows. He's been there to witness every single event that's happened ever since Ambrosius finally turned old enough to go to balls and shit as an actual member of the upper society, or whatever it is they call themselves.

"We have many allies made by old marriages, debts, whatever. If one of them asks something of me, then it usually really just falls on me to say no. Unless they put up conditions"

Ambrosius licks his lips, grabbing his boyfriend's hands and looking at him straight in the eyes. How wonderful they are, Ballister's eyes.

"Now is when it gets kinda hard, so bear with me. Mom's been saying no to everyone who wants to form an alliance by marriage. Don't make that face, Bal. It's not really a lovely affair as much as it is legal papers, for a lot of people. But if all of my allies get along and decide to put conditions on me, then we're obligated to answer"

"That's so, so bullshit"

"It really is. Specially because, since we have so many allies, they usually never get along for long enough to actually make and write a demand, but I guess I'm just that hot and everyone wants to bed me. Too bad I'm already in love with what my allies would probably qualify as a disgraceful street rat"

Ballister blushes, playfully shoving Ambrosius on the chest.

"They would get a heart attack, don't you think? If they knew about me and you"

"They would get a heart attack if they knew I'm gay. They would get a heart attack if they knew I'm a tube baby because my mom loathes my dad. They would get a heart attack if they knew I eat chocolate cake sometimes. Don't feel special" shrugging, Ambrosius continues, "So, they are threatening to call off a lot of agreements and stuff if I don't answer their demands, which, like, mature much? Not my fault all of their heirs look like horror creatures.

So, Mom, being Mom, decided to have me answer with a tournament, because apparently she believes I'm Hercules or something. I would traditionally have to fight with every single person who asked for my hand in a stupid sword duel and bla bla bla, but that would take forever, Bal. So, they came to an agreement. People fight each other, and whoever wins, figths with me"

"That sounds... extremely complicated" cringing a bit at the lengths people would go for a chance to figth with his boyfriend, Ballister grimaces. Bunch of weirdos.

"I'm not some easy harlot, Ballister. You offend me. Of course trying to marry me is complicated. But, wait, now's where it gets interesting"

"Now? Just now? This whole thing is nuts"

Ignoring him, Ambrosius takes two pillows and places one if front of the other. "There are people who can fight me and expect to win" he says, pointing to one of them. "And people who can't but want the marriage"

"So, a lot of families don't have knights. A lot of knigths aren't heirs. Even if a family has a heir that would marry me, they could just be a scholar or something. All knights are nobles..."

"Except me, clearly"

"Yeah, well. Most knigths are nobles, but a bunch of nobles aren't knigths. Like the Queen and such."

"And this is important because...?"

"Because families are going to choose champions, now. Wich means, they can just find a random good figther who's willing to commit to life to me and make them fight. Mom tried to make it so only noble heirs could enter, but they said no. You only have to represent a noble family, and there can only be one fighter per family. Wich means, you can simply sign up and beat everyone up!"

He throws his hands up in the air, a pinched smile on his face.

"You forget a very small but important detail, Amber" Ballister sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. "I'm neither noble nor a heir, and no family is going to choose me as a champion. You might actually need help from Todd on this one"

Ambrosius suddenly comes to a stop, blinking.

"I would sooner kill myself than marry Todd Disgusting Sureblade. Never. Nuh-uh. Not even if we were the last two men left in the planet. You know how some girls swear they can switch gays guys to the other team? I'm throughly convinced that Todd actually has the power to do so. Leave me alone with him in a room and I come out both a killer and ready to settle down with a woman. Hell, we'll have kids, even. Don't ever joke about that, Ballister. I'm going to have nightmares, tonight"

Cackling, Ballister pretends to apologize, while his boyfriend rambles about how horrifying it would be, to be around Todd every day of his life, and how death would be mercy if anyone ever was to ever be on that situation.

Ambrosius finally stops, clearing his throat to stop Ballister from dying of asphyxiation, "With that settled, I would like to point out that my family can't choose you because I have to represent the Goldenloins. Not because I don't want. But there's still someone, Bal. Someone who's childless, a noble, and probably would love to help us out in this"

Ambrosius's next words convince Ballister of the fact that, yes, Captain Gloria surely drank too much whiskey while she was pregnant, because there's something deeply wrong with this man's brain.

"We're going to ask formal help from the Queen. And we're going to do it right now"

He should've stayed at that orphanage. Things would've been easier.

˗ˋ ♡  ˊ˗

Ballister fixes his shirt, and then does so again. Next to him, Ambrosius is doing a pretty good job at pretending to be calm, but his lips are going to start bleeding in any second if he keeps munching on them like that, and his hands shake ever so slightly.

"If the speech doesn't work out" he whispers to Ballister, while they walk down the marble corridors of the palace, "then you put on your best puppy eyes. Pout and all. I'm bringing out the waterworks. Ugly crying, if needed. Gloreth, I'll fake-faint if it comes to that"

Ballister's pretty sure that the speech they wrote and tried to memorize on the two hours it took to get here (asking for permissions at the institute, getting into a carriage, arriving at the palace, getting the secretary to make them the next meeting using Ambrosius's status) isn't nearly good enough to convince the Queen to get involved in this mess, so he tries to remember the saddest moments in his life. There's a lot. He definitely feels ready to cry and beg.

They reach the Queen's office (because, apparently, queen's do have offices) and are welcomed by two palace guards that open up the wood doors for them to come in.

The place is wonderful. Not rich-people wonderful, it's soul-crushing, life-changing beautiful, instead. Everything is so white and golden and blue and shiny and ethereal.

In the middle of it, the Queen is seated, smiling softly at them. They both kneel down, knigth training and actual admiration manifesting in the gesture.

"Gentlemen" she greets, placing her joined hands on her desk, and they stand up straight, standing still, waiting for orders, her orders, always ready to obey to her, "you may sit down"

They do so.

Ballister's bones are trying to crawl out of his skin, and his whole face itches with nerves.

"Thank you, for receiving us in such short notice, Your Majesty" says Ambrosius, voice full with feeling. He's better at the whole "being social" thing.

"It is refreshing to see young faces on the palace grounds every once in a while" she responds, in that weird way formal people talk when they're trying to say something without saying it. "And I am honored to have two of my best cadets in here today. I have to ask, though, as to what situation do I owe the pleasure of such a distinguished visit? Specially a dual one"

"The honor is all ours" adds Ballister, who doesn't want to feel useless in the conversation, even if he feels incredibly out of place in the dances the nobility follows when they talk, when they breath, when they live.

"We come here with a plead," explains Ambrosius, and he suddenly looks older. Serious, worried, solemn. His voice is deep, calm, "One that would benefit both of us, and for which we require your help."

The Queen hums softly, slightly rising an eyebrow. "What sort of plea my I aid you both in?"

"I don't want to get married" blurts out Ambrosius, straight to the point. Ballister asked him, on the carriage, to be honest with this. He knows how... creative the Goldenloins can get when they want something, and he feels like the Queen deserves the truth. Even if it's a slightly dramatized version of it. Plus, being bold will surely add to the element of surprise.

"Excuse me?" The Queen looks clearly put off at the words, loosing her elegant demeanor for a second, "Come again?"

Seeing her eyebrows frown and her vocabulary change so abruptly, Ambrosius clears his throat, hiding a smile. Their plan seems to be going well.

"I don't want to get married" he repeats, enunciating every word, "And I'm being forced to engage in an obligated tournament for those purposes, Your Majesty"

He gives her a second to understand the words, to take the information in. In those seconds, Ambrosius remembers that one time he thought Ballister hated him, back when they were twelve, and tries to pour all the sadness he felt on his voice.

"Of course, I presume Your Majesty is aware of how vicious and outdated some traditions are" quickly, he glances down at Ballister, who's also putting on his best kicked lost helpless puppy performance, "but I am still subjected to them, as a heir."

The Queen is the Queen, but even her can't change the rules that noble families uphold each other to. That's not what they want, anyway. She nods, looking worried. Bingo.

"That's why I want to help him" cutting in, Ballister stammers a bit, like Ambrosius instructed him to; for extra empathy points, he said, "We've come up with a plan. It's not perfect, but..."

"... it's the best we can do" Ambrosius finishes, following his cue.

Now, they both stare at her, identical sad smiles plastered on their faces. If Ambrosius is as good with people as he claims to be, then they already have her heart in the bag. They just need to get her brain on it.

"And how can I help?" She asks, and both knigths know they've kit the jackpot in the instant her voice comes out. She sounds so much like a preocuppied mother. Ballister feels slightly guilty, slightly wishful. "How may I aid you both, on this quest?"

"We need someone to sign me in" Puppy eyes. Puppy eyes. Think sad thoughts. "No one else but you can do it, Your Majesty. I am a commoner, and the families despise me"

They're not even lying. Most nobles do despise Ballister. They're just... putting some heart onto the delivery of the news.

"He's my last resource" Ambrosius is about to cry. Teary eyes, red cheeks, trembling words. Such an actor. "My mommy can't do it because she's my own family, and I am so scared, Your Majesty. Marriage is the least of my concerns..."

He leans in to her, even if it's only the three of them in the room.

"Just... just, you know, thinking about what someone with control over me could ask for, gives me chills," and, to spice some politics in, he whispers to her, "there's so many things my mom would give over for me. Money, land, jews... Gloreth, even alliances, or debts. There's a lot of power tied into the family, and if I'm allowed to be honest, I fear for what would happen if all that rested in the hand of someone evil. Some villain. Some monster.

It's a well known secret that the Goldenloins could match the royal family in influence, in power. They're probably a bit over them, if one were to actually measure the impact they have on the people, on the kingdom. Ambrosius couldn't care less about this knowledge, but the Queen should be able to recognize a threat when it's in front of her.

She blinks once, twice. Ballister makes a show of giving Ambrosius a handkerchief for his tears, and he takes it with an apology for his horrible demeanor.

"I see why you've come to me," she finally speaks up, eyes fixed on them, "and I am glad that you did. This is an urgent matter. I am deeply troubled to see you in this state, Goldenloin"

Ambrosius mutters a quick thank you, still "too emotional" to talk.

"And I am glad to learn that the bond between my star knights is as strong as the walls that protect this kingdom. You both are what keep my people safe, after all"

Ballister's never been so proud to be compared to a wall as he is right now. It's wonderful.

"To show you my gratitude for your hard work, I will agree. Ballister, you can fight in representation of the noble house of Elpis, as my champion. Any armor or other supplies needed will be provided, too"

Thank Gloreth and every single saint ever for Ambrosius's manipulative ass. He's so in love with this dramatic wreck of a man. Thank Gloreth and every single saint ever for Queen Valentin's tendency to go against tradition. He's so grateful to have been born under her regency.

They both thank her, deeply, multiple times, bowing their heads. Ambrosius even sheds some more tears and wipes them off with urgency.

Then, the Queen stands up, and they follow suit, ready to leave with their victory. Before they can go, however, she shoots them a question, one that they didn't come prepared for

"You both are aware, I pressume, of how the nature of your... bond, could affect this tournament?"

Stop. Pause. What did she say? Whatdidshesay?

They look at each other, completely out of track. This time, she is the one with the upper hand. And they're so fucked. Seeing as how their silence continues, she speaks, again

"Your romance" she clarifies, and Ambrosius's choke on his own saliva isn't fake. Ballister goes so red his face burns, and, out of instinct, he hits his boyfriend on the back to try and stop his death. He hits a little too hard, but it works.

"Excuse us?" Screeches Ambrosius, high pitched, "Our what?"

"You must be confused" says Ballister at the same time, feeling like a very dumb caged animal. They didn't plan this. He's got no idea what to do next. "Ambrosius and I don't-"

"We would never-"

"We couldn't even be together! I'm just some commoner and he is..."

"Don't talk about yourself like that"

"Amber, this is not the moment to-"

"I won't let you be mean to yourself in front of the Queen"

The woman in front of them chuckles, amazed at their idiocy. They both blush even more, if that's possible. They suck at this whole "pretending to be single" thing.

"You're adorable" she coos, and Ambrosius is ready to change his name and move towns, "You remind me so much of Derek and me, back when we were young"

She brings up dead husband, as if this isn't weird enough already.

"Surely, you know that if people take notice of this, and Ballister does end up winning — like I have faith he will — they could argue that the tournament has been rigged by the Goldenloins"

They look at each other, bewildered. They never even considered that possibility. The Queen chuckles some more.

"I trust you would come up with a way to deal with that problem, Mister Goldenloin. Your mother's always had her way with schemes and theatrical dramas, and I am fairly sure that I just witnessed one of your plans in action, didn't I? Was any of what you said true, cadets?"

Of course. Of course. Of curse that, The Actual Queen, who's probably been working alongside Captain Gloria her whole life, would notice. Perhaps they didn't plan this as neatly as they could've. But they had less than a day to come up with the whole thing, so.

"I really, really don't wanna get married or have to obey to someone" argues Ambrosius, pouting. "Specially to some older weirdo"

"And I really, really don't want him to marry or have to obey to someone" agrees Ballister, apologetic. "Specially some older weirdo"

After considering them for some seconds, she nods again, agreeing to keep her word. Seeing no point on subtlety, they hug each other quickly, to celebrate.

"We're going to give back every penny you spend on Bal in this whole thing, swear to Gloreth" promises Ambrosius, one hand drapped along his boyfriend's back, "when he wins, I'm throwing a party, and you are so invited", quickly, he adds, "uh, Your Majesty, ma'am"

She lets them go after discussing some minor details, and they beam all the way out of the palace.

"I told you my plan would work" Ambrosius puffs out his chest like a proud peacock once they're on the carriage back to the institute, texting Gloreth knows who on his phone, "We're irresistible"

"She only agreed because you asked her. No one says no to a Goldenloin, Amber"

Ballister stretches, already tired. This whole thing has been draining. He's so ready to go back to the institute and join classes again. If this carriages hurries up, they might get there in time for sword training before lunch, his favorite part of the day.

"Talking 'bout Goldenloins..." trails off Ambrosius, playful smile painted on his lips, playing with the phone on his hands, "what you say we go talk to my mom now?"

"Absolutely no way-"

"Too bad" he interrupts him, placing his hand over Ballister's lips, "already told her we're on our way. She asked to chefs to prepare us something tasty"

Fuck this kid and his lack of self control.

[spiciestmarinara]

So, in a totally normal move, I’ve been thinking a lot about what a Chappell Roan episode of The Muppet Show might look like. This is assuming there is a continuation of the classic variety show format. While I don’t have a whole script written out, here’s what I got:

- Scooter does his usual opening lines with “Chappell Roan? 15 minutes to curtain, Miss. Roan” and we see a brief glimpse of whatever stunning outfit she has on. She thanks him and gets up to leave.

Since the guest star’s dressing room and Miss. Piggy’s dressing room are next to each other on the second floor backstage, both her and Miss. Piggy exit their rooms at the same time and are wearing the exact same outfit.

Miss. Piggy goes “Well, one of us has to change, hmph!” And the intro theme song sequence starts. (Bonus points if afterwards, Chappell does appear in a different outfit and Miss. Piggy is seen at least once more in the original- implying Chappell is the one who changed.)

(Sorry for the read more, I was proud of that first bit but I had a lot more ideas)

- I read someone posited that the episode long “story of the day” should be Miss. Piggy catching feelings for Chappell, but I have another plan for that story- what I do think would be funny is if Wanda of Wayne and Wanda makes a few remarks during the episode of how beautiful and talented the guest star is.

Wanda’s just recognizable enough as a C-List Muppet that it would be funny without it being the whole episode. And a quiet jab at comphet that Chappell herself has sung about, most notably in “Good Luck, Babe!”.

- I would love if the first musical number was Chappell with Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayham performing ‘Femininomenon’.

Both because I think it’s appropriate as the first track on her debut album and I just really want Animal to take the reigns on the ‘call and response’ segment and be like “Fem-in-in-omen-on! Fem-in-in-omen-on!”.

(Bonus points if Chappell is originally particularly addressing Janice like she does with her own band on stage, but of course Animal becomes the loudest participant).

- Now would be a good time to introduce the off-stage “story of the day”, which I thought would be about Gonzo.

Follow me for a minute, I picked Gonzo because of all the Muppets, he seems the most widely seen as a queer icon (maybe fighting for first place with Miss. Piggy) and one of the most popular characters in the show overall.

I would want him to approach Kermit asking what he can do for the show, but both Kermit and other characters backstage keep kind of brushing him off because ‘it doesn’t matter what he ends up doing, the crowd will just be happy to see him’.

This isn’t in a mean way, but all his friends have confidence in him and don’t want him to over think it, but on his side it starts to feel isolating because what other new things could he bring to a crowd that expect so much of him?

As usual, this storyline would be seen on and off between segments for the rest of the show.

- Now I absolutely want a couple short non-Chappell segments in there. An ‘At the Dance’ and Fozzie vs Statler and Waldorf, I don’t have a plan for everything.

BUT- I do have a vague plan for Pigs in Space. The Swinetrek hits some turbulence- Dr. Stangepork, reading a terminal, says something like “we are close to a star explosion which is somehow giving off a high number of polyphenols and sugars we normally only find in our dark colored grapes back on Earth!”

And Captain Link goes “That’s one Red Wine Supernova!”.

And that’s it that’s the one joke I had for this segment. We could also probably work ‘Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl’ if Chappell appears in this segment as like a sexy 60’s random alien warrior lady- keeping in theme for the Star Trek parody.

- I would want Chappell to sing one song that isn’t one of her own, I would purpose a recreation of Charles Aznavour’s ‘The Old Fashioned Way’ because I think a slower jazzy piece would really work for her and she could wear a beautiful ball gown and they could still do a big ballroom with other dancing muppets.

I also think Chappell would really like reigniting interest in Aznavour’s songs. While not queer himself, he was a human rights activist and an early supporter of the LGBT rights movements in the 1970’s.

- Finally going back to Gonzo, they would do the usual trope of the guest star finding the Muppet in Crisis sitting alone somewhere. She would ask him what’s wrong and and sit with him as he explained that he feels lost. Something like

“I used to just be a performance artist they’d reluctantly let on stage to fill a few minutes. Then when things exploded on me, I’d get a laugh, so that became my thing. Then all this popularity and the Muppets becoming just so big- I don’t know what I can do anymore. It feels like I can’t go back but I don’t know the way forward.”

And Chappell would completely understand, I purposely thought of this because of her public struggle with her skyrocketing fame and still wanting to be seen as an artist and as a person.

To conversation would culminate in Chappell singing a dressed down version of “California” that I think should be turned into a mashup with “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday”- Gonzo’s song from the original Muppet movie.

I’m not sure how to get out of this scene that will probably end the show, maybe Kermit coming out and telling Gonzo that the duet was great and everyone loved it, he and Chappell made something unique and beautiful out of their love for their art, the struggles that got them where they are, and the wistful desire to keep the old days close in their hearts.

If you made it this far in my super crazy ideas about a Chappell Roan muppet episode, thanks!

As a bonus, here’s my pitch for a Orville Peck episode:

Link Hogthrob dresses up like him and goes by “Orville Pork”.