The sun was streaming through the window, hitting Ballister in the face and rousing him from his slumber. He groaned at the intrusion and opened his eyes, rubbing them tiredly with his left palm and lifting himself with his right, only to find a lack of movement. His eyes trailed to his phantom limb and panic set in momentarily as he held his right shoulder. Before he could even think, a young voice stole his attention.
"Looking for something?"
Turning to meet the teens' eyes, Ballister exhaled a sigh of relief as he watched her unplug the mechanical limb from its charging port before picking up a tray of her usual breakfast tacos in her right hand and skipping toward him and popping herself beside him. She held out the metal arm, her proud lop-sided grin plastered across her freckled face.
"Thanks, kid." Though unenthusiastic, his words were genuine, and he knew that Nimona could tell. As he reconnected his arm to the socket, he could hear the crunching of his teen starting on her own breakfast next to him. She lifted the tray to him, not stopping the savage attack on her own food as she did so. "Breakfast tacos." He began with a smile. "A Nimona classic." He felt her brighten beside him. She always enjoyed cooking, but even though she wouldn't admit it, the praise was just as fulfilling, if not more so, to her.
"Of course! You can never get enough of a classic." She beamed, picking at the crummy remains of her breakfast. Ballister wasn't surprised it was gone so soon. He would have been more concerned if she was still less than halfway through. He had noticed during their time together the difference in her eating when she wasn't feeling right, but this wasn't one of those times. He was glad she was feeling better than the night before. Seeing her that way was heartbreaking, to say the least, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't still worried about her sudden and more apparent emotional vulnerability.
"So, what's the plan today?" Her voice broke him from his train of concerns, drawing him back to her in the present and away from the shaking kid he had coaxed to sleep the night before. "Do we finally get to pillage a village?" A light laugh left the man beside her, his face falling into a content expression as she rambled on with wide, gleaming eyes about chaos and other heinous activites they could commit together. By the time she was done, she'd ended up standing proudly atop the coffee table as she had done the first night they'd met.
"We're not killing anyone or blowing things up, Nimona." He admitted, amused by the frown that now replaced her far too pointy grin.
"What!?" Her arms slacked in disappointment as she shifted into a dark-haired child - also previously known by those of the kingdom as 'the demon baby.'
Ballister placed the empty tray on the table beside their feet and rested his elbows on his knees, eye level with the stubborn boy before him. "I've got to work today, you know that." He said. "Besides, I already promised to watch have movie night with you tonight, so there's that." He pointed out, ruffling the kids' hair as he arose from the couch.
Nimona huffed and shifted back to her default, but with wings to carry her alongside her stubborn boss. "You're getting more boring with age."
Ballister cocked his scarred brow, giving the teen an amused stare. "You're literally over a thousand years old." He pointed out. A flash of pink blinded him before he felt the fur of a ferret on the back of his neck, draped over his shoulders.
"And yet I'm still way more fun than you." She chimed. "Besides, what even is work for you now you're not a knight anymore?"
Ballister tilted his head to the right, eyeing the pink ferret lounging on his shoulders. "We still have to rebuild things, Nim." He began. "The institute might be gone, but the kingdom can't run itself, and buildings won't rebuild out of nowhere either." He gave her some chin scritches, basking in the trust she had in him as she lifted her head for more.
"Sounds boring." She stated nonchalantly, melting into the feeling of those damn chin scritches. "I think you should stay home."
He chuckled again, pulling his hand away much to Nimona's chagrin. "Believe me, kid. I would if I could." She shifted back to a teen, still sat on his shoulders, and nearly toppled them both to the ground. Ballister groaned at the sudden weight, not prepared for such a shift. "Jeez, Nim! Warning!"
The teen laughed, crossing her arms on top of his head and resting her chin on them. "Gotta stay on your toes, boss! Never know what's gonna come through the -"
As if on cue, a knock echoed from the wooden door of the tower, silencing the pair. Before Ballister could speak, a pink wolf stood before him, hackles raised, eyes bright, and teeth bared as she inched toward the noise, the sound of her claws dragging sending chills up the mans spine.
"Nimona, don't." She whipped her head round, eyes still glowing with the lust for harm. "It's probably Ambrosius." Her growling increased in volume as she quickened her pace to the entrance, only to be cut off again by her mentor. "Hey, he's not going to hurt us. He's just here to take me to the castle." He explained, desperate for the teen to just calm herself enough before a fight broke out.
"What, to chop off your other arm?" She snarkled, lips curling with the words. The pounding came again, almost deafening her sensitive ears. Maybe it was because she was so focused on the danger, or maybe it was just because of the form she'd taken, but damn the knocking was loud and coaxing her closer with every tap.
She didn't see Ballister flinch at her words, but she felt his reluctance through the hand running down her back in an attempt to soothe her fur back into place. "Please, Nimona." His voice trembled with a sense of desperation that the teen couldn't begin to understand. "I trust him. All I ask is you try to do the same." His words were soft, full of patience and longing. Nimona wanted to shove him off, the feeling of betrayel seeping under her fur from where he'd touched her, but she said nothing, only a growl leaving her muzzle before shifting back to a teen once again.
Ballister smiled, grateful for what he took as a silent agreement. "Thank you." He placed his hand on the back of her head, drawing her forehead nearer to plant a gentle kiss of appreciation before practically skipping off to the door.
Nimona froze, unsure of how to react to what had just happened. One minute, she was full of rage and disgust, but suddenly, she felt confused and uncomfortable as she tried to pin the feeling that flitted around in the pit of her stomach. That itch formed under her skin, begging her to release it from its entrapment beneath her flesh, but she did nothing. Her feet were glued solidly to the ground.
"Good morning." The sound of the Golden Knight made her eyes dart upward, landing on his disgustingly bright form. He wore a light hoodie and black jeans and carried a white paper bag that clearly contained some form of meal. She grimaced at the thought of him feeding her boss some poisoned breakfast after she'd already filled him on her classic breakfast tacos. How dare he come here and try to take her job from her!
"Thanks, Am, but we've actually already eaten." She watched Ballister gesture into the room she stood in, fear flooding her whole being as Ambrosius averted his eyes to scan the room.
"You, yourself, and you, I presume."
Ballister turned to look at Nimona, but she was gone. The only remains of her existence being a streak of reddish pink light that disappeared just as quickly.
Ballister sighed, disappointed but unsurprised by her reaction. He turned back to his boyfriend, a nervous smile across his lips. "Well, at least she didn't bite you." He laughed timidly.
Ambrosius did the same, eyes still scanning the room warily. He wasn't sure he felt any better now that she couldn't be seen, but he swallowed his negativity and smiled back at his boyfriend. "Second breakfast?"
-----
The pounding of large, feline paws rumbled the ground as Nimona was running through the surrounding woodland. Her sleek and pink fur shone in the sunlight as she weaved in and out of the gnarled trees.
She used her heightened sense of smell to make sure that no one could follow her; the only thing that could track her was her own natural instinct. Nimona felt free and wild as she moved through the woods, the only sound being the rustling of the leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird. Her heart beat angrily in her chest, threatening to break through her ribs and scream for her.
She was angry, sure, but she was also overflowing with contradictory emotions that muddled her mind repeatedly.
She didn't understand how Ballister could be so comfortable with a guy like Goldengroin. After everything they'd been through concerning that man and his shitty judgement, how could he just welcome him into their home with open arms? He acted as though nothing had happened, yet it was Nimona who was the one there to console him about his phantom pains and the trauma around his involuntarily removed arm - not him.
He had proven time and time again that he was living up to his descendents name. What made him think that had changed? The Institute was formed from his lineage. The same institute that had betrayed him - no, betrayed both of them!
And what, he expected her to just be fine with this?
Absolutely the fuck not.
In her rage, Nimona hadn't noticed the root before her, yelping loud as she tripped and crashed to the ground, shifting unintentionally to her most recognized form. Her lungs worked overtime, heaving painfully to regain the air missing from inside.
Flopping from her side to her back, Nimona threw her arms to the side and releashed her upset through an ear-piercing shriek. Startled birds flapped and screeched in warning to one another as they flew from the trees above to somewhere they deemed safer. Nimona ceased her screaming, once again out of breath, and pushed her palms into her eyes until she saw stars.
What was Ballister thinking!?
Bringing Goldenloin into his home - his life! - was foolish at best and risky at worst, and Nimona could not understand it. He was putting himself in danger, and for what? To have matching arms again? It was infuriating to the teen, and she hated every second that this unnecessary situation continued.
Nimona sat up with a tired groan.
Everything was so easy before...
The sound of rustling caught her attention, and with a flash of pink, she trudged forward, hackles raised for the second time that morning. She sniffed the air intently, using her strong sense of smell to determine exactly what it was that was nearby. All her nose filled with was the smell of human, which wasn't overly believable to her due to how far away from civilization the lair was.
But alas, a young boy, no older than 13, who sported hazel hair and green eyes, sat sulkingly against the well before her.
Nimonas shoulder drooped, and her ears perked at the discovery. He hadn't yet noticed her, but she wasn't sure she really wanted him to.
Her eyes flitted between him and the statue in the distance, the sword of her former friend still pointing right at her as it had done many times before. She swallowed, lowering her gaze sheepishly and taking a step back, her ears pinned to her head and tail hanging shamefully between her legs. As she backed away, her paw cushioned the point of a thorn, emanating a loud yelp from the shapeshifter and causing her to freeze at the sound of her own cry. The boys gasp was all too clear, and she cursed herself out mentally as she trailed her eyes reluctantly over to the kid, his hand now resting defensively on a toy sword that sat sheathed by his side.
Nimona could her her heartbeat in her ears, blood rushing through them also and blocking out any other sounds from outside of her own mind.
The boy was uncertain. That was more than clear, yet he stepped toward her anyway, hands remaining on the handle at his side should he have needed it. "Hey there, puppy..." he cooed softly, trying to assess the situation through tone and reaction. Nimona didn't move. She couldn't. Her eyes sat unwavering on his hands, her breathing becoming increasingly uneven.
Another step and Nimona snarled loudly, a warning that was impossible to make any clearer, and the boy flinched. 'Good.' She thought.
The boy followed her gaze, landing on his hands just like hers had, to establishthe cause of her unease. He looked between the weapon and the animal before him and unsheathed the toy from its protective sleeve. As the sword became viewable, Nimona's anxieties only increased along with her growl. The boy moved slow, determination in his eyes, but for what Nimona could only guess. She limped backwards a step, unsure of what to expect, but was taken aback when the wooden sword was tossed aside and out of reach. She followed the item with her gaze, hiding her teeth behind her once curled lips before turning back to the boy with wide eyes.
"It's okay," He smiled, lowering himself to the floor and crossing his legs. He turned to his satchel, reigniting the shapeshifters nerves, and dug through it enthusiastically.
Nimona pushed her backend to the floor and held her paw up slightly as she waited impatiently for the boy to finish what he was doing. He finally pulled out a creased paper bag, the contents making itself known to Nimona by its smell. The canine tilted her head invitingly, her intrigue and appetite stronger than her prior emotions.
"You hungry?" The boy asked, still cautious of the large animal before him. He tossed half the sandwich to her, the thud as soft as the bread holding the fillings hostage. Nimona sniffed it from a distance, noting how it was still a few tail lengths away, and stood again before limping closer to it. She sniffed again, the smell of meat and some mildly spicy sauce filling her nose as she did so, widening her eyes in delight. She still wasn't close enough, but her hesitance prevailed as she reached the edge of the shade, the light blinding as she approached. She paused, eyeing the boy again with eyes that glistened with distrust.
"I don't bite, I promise!" The boy reassured, leaning forward to nudge the sandwich closer to her. "It's for you! I hope it's not too spicy, I don't know if animals can have spice." He admitted.
Nimona chuckled inwardly, amused by his naivety. In reality, she loved spice. It was how she'd have everything if she could - the spicier, the better! Of course, to humans, the idea of feeding a wild animal something even slightly spicy was nerve-wracking due to the difference in immune systems. But that was okay. Nimona wasn't people. She wasn't wolf either. She was just Nimona, and Nimona loved spice.
Suddenly, the sandwich was dragged back to the shadows by her large jaws, not even taking a second for the food to be chewed before it was long gone into her digestive system. She sat back again, eyes wide with expectancy as she licked her lips clean.
The boy sat doe-eyed as he watched her devour the offering he'd given. "You're... pink?" His words weren't what she had expected, but really she supposed she should've done considering. She blinked back at him, unsure of if that was a good or bad realisisation for him to have in this particular situation. "I've never seen a pink wolf before..."
Nimona shook her head, any loose fur flying from her thick coat as she did so, and blinked again at the boy. The next thing she knew, another sandwich sat replacing its other half. Less hesitant this time, Nimona trotted forward, her limp still evident as she progressed closer. Her nose tracked along the floor until it found the thing it was looking for, and once again lapped up the sandwich. Once she was satisfied there was no more, she turned back to the boy and stepped forward, sniffing his face. She wasn't expecting to hear a laugh from him, but he began to giggle fondly as her whiskers tickled his skin. She licked his face before guiding herself down to his side satchel, searching for more food.
"Sorry girl, there's nothing left in there." His voice was kind as he held her face and guided her away from the bag, causing Nimona to huff disapprovingly in his face. He laughed gently, breathing out the words "This is so cool." Before the sound of of his name pulled his attention away.
Nimona felt her confidence fizzle away as the sound of an older woman approaching increased, causing her to shrink into herself.
"Jason, sweetheart, where have you been? I've been searching every... where... for you..." A woman with long, flowing hazel hair that matched the boys appeared over the hills horizon, her voice trailing off ao familiarly at the sight of the shapeshifter. "Jason, don't move..." Her voice trembled with an agonizing fear that Nimona knew all too well. She noted the woman slowly inching towards the toy sword and before she could witness her past all over again, the canine turned tail and ran back to the brush, darting between trees and weaving sharply around branches and bushes that dare try to stop her.
Her eyes stung with hot tears, but she'd swear she wasn't crying. No, it was just the dust and dirt kicked up from her thundering paws as she darted back home. The cries of protest from the boy had long since faded by the time she had returned to the chainlink fence, desperately searching for the gap she'd come through before. Dragging herself under the broken metal, she felt her fur snag against the unevenly sharpened points and snarled, turning to bite the fence as if it were an attacker, only breaking the fence further and entangling her more.
As she struggled and fought the inanimate object that had it's hold on her, she yelped and barked and screamed and yowled, shifting over and over again until she finally got free. Now littered with fresh cuts and a thorn still in her hand, she ran to the door of the tower, bursting into the empty and still room she inhabited daily.
Her chest heaved for relief, struggling for what seemed to be irretrievable air. Nimona dropped to her knees, curling in on herself as she began to whimper.
This is never going to change.
-----
Ballister trudged his way up the hill, his shins throbbing at the effort it took. The time read 7:15pm, much later than he'd intended to be home for, but it was still early enough in the night for him to fulfil his evening plans, even if he was ready to go to bed and steal his much needed 12 hours of sleep. But alas, he had promised, pinky promised, and promise-promised his pink haired menace that they would have movie night tonight, and so that was the plan.
He would've loved to have stayed home like she'd suggested, avoiding the stress of his draining duties altogether, but without his help, who knew how long the Realm would take to rebuild! It's not like the citizens were of much assistance, especially the loud minority protesting to keep the institute the same in case 'the monster' returned. Good Gloreth, did that argument infuriate him.
"We can't move forward if everything stays the way it was before. It was a corrupt system. The director was more than willing to sacrifice you all for her own ignorance!" Ballister had been trying to stay calm. He really had, but this man just would not stop pushing. He'd asked him to leave 7 times and counting, yet he pushed on only to repeat himself as if it would get him further.
"The way the institute was before is what kept us safe until now! We are more at risk now than ever and all because you didn't have the nerve to kill that monster properly!" The words pierced Ballister exactly where it hurt most, and oh boy, was it hard to restrain himself. "You were never fit to be a knight from the start. You ran around for months with a monster, encouraging it, and now you get to work on the reconstruction of our home?" The man scoffed, are folded over his chest as he smirked down at Ballister. "Good riddance is what I say. That thing should never have existed, and you should have followed it."
Ballisters' fists were white as he watched the man be dragged back through the crowd by guards, still shouting and cursing out the ex-knight as though his voice hadn't been heard enough. He turned to Ambrosius, eyes burning with a rage he didn't know he could muster, and took in a shaky breath. "Don't listen to him, Bal." But it was too late. Ballister was fuming. He spun on his heels, storming back to the castle doors and shoved them open, leaving a decently sized dent in the right one as he did so.
His armour clinked in protest as he marched through the halls, searching for anything to calm his upset until suddenly, he wasn't in armour anymore, but a hoodie he'd worn the day before still stained with the faint remnants of the girls tears. He could still feel the trembling from her balled up frame, a demeanour he'd never witnessed her have before. Not to that extent, anyway. They still hadn't had a chance to discuss what had sent her down the rabbit hole he'd found her in, but he just hoped he didn't find the same thing when he entered their home. She was so much more vulnerable than even she gave herself credit for. How could somebody wish death upon her like it was nothing?
A gentle pressure on his shoulder brought Ballister from his thoughts, the anger from earlier that day still simmering like a volcano in his gut. "You're getting upset about it again." He stated matter-of-factly.
Ballister rubbed his eyes, tiredness weighing them down relentlessly, and sighed. "Of course I am. She fucking killed herself, Ambrosius! For a realm that wanted nothing more than her head on a stick. She sacrificed her life despite everything they'd put her through, and yet there are still people out there -" His flung his arms in the direction they'd come from, gesturing to the city of seemingly ungrateful civilians. "- who are glad she offed herself!" His chest tightened at the memory, the pain scouring his heart like it was happening over again.
"I know, Bal, but we were all raised the same when it comes to... her." It was clear Ambrosius didn't feel the same as his partner when it came down to the ignorant comments about Nimona, and oh, did that not help. "It can be hard to break a way of thinking that has been ingrained into our very existence over centuries."
"I get that, Am, I do. But that's not the point." Ballister felt his face run red, agitation leaking into his words. He knew he was taking it out on the wrong person, but after a month of being betrayed by him the same way Nimona had been, it felt somewhat warranted considering the topic.
"I'm sorry, I just..." Ambrosius' words trailed off, discomfort blanketing the pair as they walked. He didn't know what to say. It's not like he knew the kid well at all. How could he vouch for her when the only thing he had to go off of was the biased words of his boyfriend?
As the tower came closer into view, Ambrosius couldn't help but notice the relief of his other half, tension slipping from his body and disappearing into the orange hue of the evening. He noted the pinky-red glow through the window that flowed nicely with the sunset that painted the world warmly around them.
"I hope you have that same look in your eye when we have a place of our own." He cooed, eyeing his partner affectionately.
"That all depends on how you and Nimona get on." The blondes smile fell, speedily replaced by a frown.
"I said I'd try, didn't I?"
Ballister, taken aback, stared at him for a moment, furrowing his brows. "That's not what I meant, Am." Their steps slowed as they approached the front door, the sound of shuffling from inside barely audible to the pair. "I just want this work out. I'm all she has, and I'm not willing to let her go. Not again. She's been alone long enough."
An awkward silence. Just what they needed.
Ambrosius moved first, cupping the shorter mans face and drawing him closer until chapped lips met his soft ones. Ballister exhaled, smiling into the kiss and accepting it gladly, but it was taken from him just as quickly as it had arrived, taking his smile with him. "I'll see you on Friday, Bal." A final peck closed their encounter, and he watched as Ambrosius made his way back the way they'd came. The creak of the front door stole his gaze for a moment, landing on a pink gorilla holding an open pizza box that contained 2 surviving slices.
"You guys done being gross now?" Though her voice wasn't as chipper as it had started that morning, her usual attitude remained intact. His eyes loitered over his shrinking boyfriend. Despite the tension, he missed him already.
"Yeah."
The sudden but unsurprising flash of pink beside him drew his attention back to the now teen standing in the doorway. "Ready for movie night?"
"What in the name of Glo-" Nimona flinched at the words, eyes narrowed at her boss warily. Ballister ignored her daggers, pushing her gently into the tower and closing the door behind him. "What happened??" He asked, gesturing to the fresh scars that littered her arms, legs, and face. The only answer he got was a shrug before she turned to the couch. "Nimona!"
"I'm fine, boss! Just some branches that got me on my way home earlier." She assured, not entirely believing herself. Sure, she had missed out on the mention of the fence, but if she brought that up, he'd make her let him check her back, and she could still feel the soreness of which was going strong back there. She caught a glance of him running off down the hall, no doubt on his way to grab the first aid kit he had in there, and groaned, sitting on the couch preemptively. It didn't take long for him to be perched beside here, digging through the plastic container god knows what.
"Hold still." Nimona obeyed, not moving a muscle as he cleaned her up, careful to cause her anymore discomfort than he assumed she was already in. She refrained from wincing when it stang, only deadpanning at the blank screen in front of her.
"So, how was work?" She asked, trying to talk about something other than herself. Ballister paused a moment before shrugging and moving to the next half healed scratch.
"Boring."
Nimona smirked. "Told ya!" Ballister rolled his eyes, a small smile of his own rising to his lips.
"Yeah, you did." Rubbing the plaster on Nimonas shoulder gently to make sure it stuck, he looked at her face, the scratches there still more fresh than the others. "How did you get scars this bad on your face, Nim?" His eyes were full of a mixture of confusion and concern, making her stomach churn with guilt.
"I told you, it was just the bushes. They had thorns. See?" She held up her left hand, the thorn from earlier embedded deep into her flesh. Ballister grimaced at the view and reached back into the box for tweezers. Nimona snorted. "Don't be such a baby." She mocked, blowing a raspberry at the man.
"Why didn't you take this out yourself?" He asked, focus pouring into his actions as he took her hand and began to move the fabric out of his way, only for her to yank her hand back to do it herself, a painful worry in her eyes that soon flitted to nervousness masked by agitation.
"I tried. The more I shifted, the deeper it went, so I gave up." She shrugged, pushing her hand back into his own. He noted how she'd placed the bandages at the base of her wrist and no higher. He raised a brow at her but got no response, only her eyes diverting away. He examined the hand again, noticing how sore the skin around it had become at Nimonas' own attempts at removal. He could only imagine the scratching and biting she'd done to cause it, no thought of tools crossing her mind, he bet.
Despite its stubbornness, though unmatched by its host, the thorn was retrieved from the depths of her palm, and the relief in her face was self-explanatory. It had definitely been bothering her.
She gritted her teeth as he cleaned the wound, the antiseptic wipe bringing more pain than she'd anticipated. Once a bandaid had been applied, she took her hand back, readjusting the fabric she worse over it and stretched upward. "Thanks, boss!" She grinned, eagerly reaching for a slice of pizza and tapping the remote. The TV flickered on, the effort of it almost seeming like too much for the old box, and she automatically started setting up the screen with a movie. A typical zombie horror. How very... Nimona.
Ballister grabbed his own slice of pizza from the fresh box beside the now empty one and sank into the couch, his mechanical arm resting along the back of it. The movie started up before them, and the two sank into quiet, eyes glued to the screen in wait for the story to unfold. They'd seen it a couple of times already, but Nimona insisted it was the best of the collection they had and would usually watch it at least once before they could put something else on. Ballister didn't mind too much.
A soft head of hair rested against his chest, and like clockwork, he lowered his arm around her, holding the teen securely against him. She'd already draped the blanket over her own lap, the corner pulled up to her chin as she usually did, and Ballister couldn't help but smile. He loved this kid more than he ever expected to. The day they met couldn't compare to the adoration, pride, and awe he had for her now. He was protective of her as if she was his own, and though she was lifetimes older than him, he still saw her as she was. A broken kid in want - no, need of a home.
"Not many kids in your life, huh?"
"No, and I'd like it to stay that way! You need to go."
He wasn't so sure he agreed with that anymore...
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Aye, this was 1,600 words longer than intended, but ah well! Here it is 😁
Let me know your thoughts on this story and/or chapter so far!
Your comments help motivate me a lot 🥰
Thanks for reading!
Hayden
(He/They)
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