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His energy left him suddenly, causing Ballister to sway momentarily before collapsing towards the nearest object: Ambroisus. His head tucked against the other man's neck in a familiar movement, as tears welled up in his eyes, a choked sob fighting its way up his throat. Ambrosius said nothing, just curled protectively around Ballister, one hand coming up to cradle his head to Ambrosius' chest, coming to rest at the nape of Bal's neck.
He vaguely felt Am lift his head and then stiffen because of… something, but he couldn't bring himself to look, instead pressing his face further against skin and trying not to scream in agony. Everything hurt, he could feel blood drying across his face from his nose, a split lip, and a cut across his temple, his left eye already bruising and swelling setting in, bruises and cuts littering the unprotected bits of his body from his beatdown by Todd and his goons. But all of that paled in comparison to the ache in his chest, his soul.
Nimona was gone. Sacrificed herself for a kingdom, a people who wanted her dead. And he had done nothing but stood there and watched the pseudo-teen do it. He didn't stop her or-or, he doesn't know, gone with her, or Gloreth's sake, not have accused her of being the very thing she feared being called, because he had been weak and afraid and desperate for something, anything, to answer the millions of questions bombarding his brain.
Something caught his attention, a small noise that went unheard by Ambrosius and the others who started to mill around them. Just a tumble of a few pieces of rubble but it sent the alarm bells ringing in Ballister's head so he forced his head up and he, too, stiffened in surprise, though he stared away from the hole in the wall, facing into the city. A flutter of a once-white piece of fabric disappearing around a large chunk of wall sent him lurching unsteadily to his feet, an emotion he couldn't quite place flooding his veins with boiling adrenaline.
"Bal?" Ambrosius asked as he stumbled away, back into the city, voice quiet. Like he didn't want to break whatever blanket of peace had settled over the area.
"I thought I saw…" He trailed off, unsure, because he wasn't sure what he had seen. But something forced him forward anyway, and he continued.
"She's gone," Am's voice was subdued, could even be called mournful from a bystander, but Ballister shook his head. He couldn't voice that it wasn't Nimona who he had seen, didn't know how, so instead of speaking he just headed towards where that bit of clothing had gone. Ambrosius slowly got to his feet and followed Bal, quickly coming up behind him with the intent to grab his shoulder and stop him.
Both froze when they turned around the pile of rubble and the Director stood in front of them, face twisted into a sneer as she stared down Ballister. She looked… surprisingly uninjured, barely a scratch on her, with only a superficial burn marring her face and dust plastered to her skin and clothes.
"You…" he wheezed, as if all the air in his lungs was forced out by a physical blow. Before his brain caught up with him, he was slamming her against the wall, his mechanical fist tight in her shirt. His face was an uncharacteristic snarl, teeth bared as he met her eye. She merely stared him down with a passive anger burning in her gaze, head still held high.
"You killed her." His voice came from his mouth in a hiss, before he repeated it as a strangled yell. "You killed her. You tried to blow up the city."
The Director blinked in muted confusion, finally looking around at the destruction she had caused, the gaping hole in the wall and the mangled form of the canon barely visible through the chaos. "Oh? It's dead?" Then, she had the audacity to smirk. "Good. I only did what I needed to do to get rid of Gloreth's Monster once and for all."
Ballister didn't take notice of her grip on her staff tightening. He didn't know the implications as he pressed her further against the wall, entirely pissed off at how brazenly unbothered she was about, well, everything "How dare you–"
"Ballister–" Ambrosius' warning came a moment too late as she lifted her arm, her staff crackling with green light, and a blast of energy struck him directly in the chest. His grip loosened in shock and he was forced backwards a few feet, hitting the ground on his back. He gasped for air, his mechanical arm spasming and sparking from the overload of energy, and sending shocks of pain lancing into his shoulder. With a pained wheeze, he forced himself up onto his good arm, the limb shaking under the strain. Blood coated his tongue with a thin layer of rust.
His armor—older, made of dark steel, and therefore heavier and thicker than the lighter metal alloys of the other knights' armor—gave him a layer of protection that they hadn't had. Still, another beam of green kept Ambrosius and the other knights at bay, and the Director sidled up almost nonchalantly. A sword gleamed in her path, and, as if to remind everyone she, too, had been a knight once, she kicked it off the ground and into her hand without so much as slowing, twirling it in her hand as she approached. She pointed it at Ballister, head tilted slightly and a disgusted frown on her lips, and he glared back up at her, willing his arm to move.
"She loved you," the Director said down at him, and he barely had time to wonder who she was referring to before she continued. "Like the child she never got to have." She shook her head sadly. "I only did what I had to do, for this kingdom, for these people! Look at what happened when just one monster was allowed to walk freely amongst us!" She swept her free arm back to the burning city, pointing with the still green-glowing end of her staff.
"You did this." Ballister struggled to his knees, his chest and right shoulder exploding in pain, but she stepped closer, her sword inches from his nose. "Don't blame Nimona for this." She simply scoffed at his words.
"Director, stop! That's enough," Ambrosius attempted to approach again, along with a few others knights, their yelling drawing in a crowd of bystanders who gawked at them. "Put the weapons down and we can-"
"Silence!" She screeched, throwing her staff aside to lunge forward and wrap her arm around Ballister's throat before he could really register the movement. She spun them with a surprising strength, her sword coming to rest against the hollow of his throat, the sharp edge of the blade pressing just hard enough that a bead of blood welled up. Her other hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head backwards, further exposing his weak point. Ballister could see Ambrosius' wide eyes fixated on the blood as it traveled down the length of the blade. "I will hear nothing further! You do not understand the sacrifices I had to make to save your unworthy asses! I only did what I had to do to keep Gloreth's vision alive an thriving!
"And you? You should have been put down like the rabid dog you are sixteen years ago. Then maybe both the Queen and your fucking monster would both be alive."
"Murderer!" "You tried to kill us!" "Queen killer!" "Monster!" Voices rippled through the crowd, Ballister's shoulders slumping, because even after everything they still thought he was... that Nimona was...
"Let him go!" Someone shouted, and then someone else, and a third person, until the crowd of people were chanting and jeering and yelling at the Director. She gaped at them, taken aback, mouth opening and closing uselessly as she tried to think of something to say. "Is... this is how you repay me?" She started, tightening her grip on his hair and pulling his head back further.
Only to be interrupted by a section of the wall collapsing and a familiar red shock of hair to emerge. His eyes immediately snapped towards the figure who was stretching as if she hadn't just blown up. Her back was still partially turned towards them, and he gawked as she slowly turned with a shit-eating grin. "Hey boss, told ya I'd be right ba…"
Nimona stilled in her stretch, her eyes finally landing on what was going on below her, and immediately her demeanor changed. Eyes flashing red she snarled, "let him go!" Bounding down the slope of debris, first as a wolf, then a Rhinoceros, then herself again, she slid the last few feet to come to rest at Ambrosius' side, facing the Director. "Get your hands off of my boss!"
Ballister felt a flood of relief, slumping in his hold, staring in awe at the amazing being in front of him. He wanted to cry, to run forward and pick her up in a hug and never let her go, to admonish her and tell her to never do that again! But the sword tightened across his throat, a burning line of fire flaring under its edge, and he closed his eyes, voice dying in his throat. Cheers from around them rose up, with a few people telling Nimona exactly what to do with the Director, and if not for his predicament, Ballister would have laughed.
"This is ridiculous," The Director spat. Ballister's right fingers twitched. "That…That thing almost destroyed us all, and you're content to just…" His arm moved, slightly, machinery whirring almost imperceptibly. "Just stand behind it?"
"Her name is Nimona," he howled, eyes snapping open. Ballister brought both his hands up to grip the edge of the blade. It easily bit into the meat of his flesh palm, scraping and winning against the metal of his prosthetic, but he didn't relent, only gritting his teeth and pulling. He could feel the metal slide through his blood-slicked flesh, nicking his neck in the process, but he shoved forward suddenly, sending the Director off balance. Her sword swung wide and away from him, losing her grip on his head, and Ballister used this opportunity to move, turning and drawing his own sword in the process. "And she is ten times the person you'll ever be, and she's not even a people!"
Her face twisted into something ugly, headdress askew and hair flying wildly. Half-feral with rage, she growled and met his eye with a wild madness swimming in their depths, all semblance of her holier-than-thou attitude gone. "That was a mistake, Blackheart."
"My name is Boldheart, you bitch." Their blades clashed with a resounding clang, the two vying for the upper hand. He let his sword slide off hers and sidestepped a swing, replying with a jab of his own blade to her side which she barely blocked in time. She swung their swords up and out, disengaging and pressed into his space, using her smaller frame and shorter reach to her advantage. He was the better swordsman overall, but she was smaller, quicker, and less injured. She swung a volley of blows at him, putting him on the defensive, and drove him backwards. Exhaustion made his arms shake, made his parries sloppy, and a jab at his unprotected side with her sword and then a fist to his face side sent him to his knee. She raised her sword and he did so as well, bracing it with his left hand as she aimed a devastating blow to his head.
"Don't worry, Boss!" A feathery red shape exploded past his ear and he couldn't help but grin. Nimona grabbed the Director's arm in a pair of wicked talons and flapped her wings. Ambrosius rushed over and put his hand on Ballister's shoulder, in an attempt to steady him. "I got this!" Nimona then transformed into a large lizard and latched onto the Director's sword arm. The Director tried to fling her off but the red lizard held on in a vice grip.
"Are you okay?" Ambrosius worried, trying to check Ballister for injuries. He wanted to send Ambrosius a reassuring smile. He also kind of wanted to shrug his hand off his shoulder, the sting of betrayal still raw. He did neither of these things and instead focused on the spitfire of a shifter making a mockery of the Director.
"I'm fine," he stated, internally flinching at how curt he sounded. He tore his eyes away for a single moment to look at Ambrosius, but both of them turned immediately back to the fight when the Director screamed.
"Let go of me you–" She struck Nimona in the head with the pummel of the sword with each word, sending the shifter to the ground. "-Disgusting creature!" She lifted her foot intending to stomp down on the dazed not-girl who had inadvertently transformed back into her typical form.
White-hot anger bloomed in his chest, and Ballister was on his feet in a second. "Don't touch her," Ballister felt himself say, Ambrosius lifting his hand in time for Ballister to rush forward, sword held in both hands. He swung upwards, making the Director stumble backwards to avoid his blade, and stood protectively over Nimona who shook her head and sat up.
"You vile monster, protecting–"
He didn't her her finish, his blade clashing with hers in a shower of sparks. He took up the offensive this time, putting every bit of strength into his blows to make her waver, drop her guard. She parried but that was about all she was able to do, his ferocity overwhelming her slighter frame. Their swords locked at the hilt guard and he shoved forward, digging his feet into the earth and leaving shallow gouges in the dirt as he used his bulk against her. She tried to push back but was unable to and eventually had to disengage and back up, but he followed in her wake. Feigning a strike with his left hand, she predictably blocked it, leaving her open for him to sock her in the jaw. Hard. With his right, very metal hand. It sent her sprawling to the ground and he stood over her to keep her in place.
"Do it, then. Kill me. Become what everyone thinks of you," she goaded, as Ballister raised his sword, the blade pointed at her heart. "You're just like me, you'll do anything to protect your people."
"Boss?" Nimona sounded almost worried. "Whatever you're gonna do, don't do it. You're not like that." He ignored her, and bared his teeth down at the woman who had ruined everything.
"Bal, don't!" Ambrosius yelled, definitely sounding worried. Ballister could hear footsteps approaching behind him, the two probably trying to stop him from doing something stupid.
He paid neither of them mind, focused solely on the snake in front of him. And that's what she was, in the end. The Director was simply a snake, maybe not in physical form but in every other aspect of her life. And he resented her for it. The kingdom would be better if she no longer existed. Rotting in jail wasn't fitting enough for the amount of hurt she had caused so many people. His mind made up, his arms lifted a fraction of an inch higher, his eyes narrowing in on his target.
He drove his sword down.
"I am nothing like you." The sword struck the earth beside her head, sinking into the dirt like it was nothing. "I'm no killer." A niggling of familiarity tugged at his mind, he did something similar during his last fight with Ambrosius, though this time there was no calculating look in dark eyes beneath him. Instead, only resentment in cold gray eyes stared up at him.
To her credit, the Director didn't flinch, even as the sword pierced the earth centimeters from her face, the strap of her headdress snapping and a superficial cut blooming across her skin. He leaned heavily onto the blade and heaved for breath over her, and something like understanding bloomed in her features. He wasn't going to kill her. No matter how much of a villain she painted him as, he wouldn't take her life, the person who deserved it the most.
Her eyes narrowed and she scoffed, looking away from him and giving up, sword falling from her fingers. Ballister stood up and wrenched his sword from the ground, sheathing it at his side and stepping away from her to be replaced by three knights who hauled her to her feet and wrenched her arms behind her back. He heard one of them telling her her rights only for her to snap, "I know, shut up."
He turned away from them and stumbled towards Ambrosius and Nimona, the latter rushing forward and wrapping her arms around his middle in the blink of an eye. He brought his bloody palm up to grip the back of her shirt, no longer having the strength to lift his prosthetic. His adrenaline bled out of him, being replaced with exhaustion, pain, and an encroaching sense that he was going to pass out.
"Don't do that again," he wheezed, eyes burning as he bent down to press his head against her shoulder. Nimona laughed wetly and squeezed him harder.
He could hear Ambrosius approaching, hesitantly, probably still wary of Nimona. The shifter pulled back and wiped her eyes with a single hand, before snorting. "You don't look too hot, boss. You got some blood, on your face region." She gestured to her own face and he rolled his eyes.
"I don't feel too hot," he agreed, knees buckling. The entirety of his weight collapsed on top of her, and if not for her immense strength she would have hit the ground with him. As it was, her own body exhausted and injured from her own ordeals, she wavered under his weight.
"Woah, hey, c'mon, fuck, you're heavier thank you look," she gasped, and Ambrosius dashed forward with a shout of Ballister's name and helped her get him to the ground. She wanted to glare and snarl and bite the blonde man, but he stared at Ballister with such open worry that she forced her own ire at the man down to focus instead on her boss. She hadn't been lying, he really looked in rough shape. Bruises and cuts bloomed across his skin, fresh and dried blood painting him the world's most expensive face paint. His eyes were dull and tired, though he brought his left arm up towards her. She leaned into it despite herself.
Ballister grabbed desperately at her back and pulled her in for a half-hug, even as he pitched forward to rest his head against Ambrosius'. The hug was awkward and tense, what with him only having one working arm and the discomfort from both Nimona and Ambrosius about the other, but none moved. None of them wanted to pull away from Ballister. The trio sat there in silence, existing in each other's space for a long moment before Ballister groaned.
And then his grip slackened completely and he slid sideways, Nimona grabbing his shoulder and Ambrosius wrapping an arm around his waist. Limp in their hold, the two of them stared at him with worry. Nimona raked her eyes over his injuries again, wincing at each she saw and not knowing how many she couldn't. No wonder he had passed out on them. But none of them looked life threatening, she thought, she hoped, at least.
"He won't bleed out… probably."
"That… doesn't help, but thank you," Ambrosius shook his head, heavy frown creasing his features. His hands kind of just, fluttered uselessly over where Nimona had Ballister propped up against her, as if he didn't know how to help, and she scoffed, drawing his attention, and ire if his glare said anything, towards her.
"We should probably get him home," she suggested, a note of worry bleeding through her forced indifference and betraying her fear. "Y'know, before the rest of the wall comes tumbling down and whatnot. I don't think adding being crushed to his list of injuries would be good." The two of them both warily eyed the still crumbling part of the wall, the occasional chunk cascading down the slope of debris.
"Yeah, lets... we should go," Ambrosius agreed and the two of them hauled Ballister up, an arm thrown across each of their shoulders. It was awkward, to say the least, with Nimona being a good foot shorter than Ambrosius. And when he asked, "can't you just, you know, be… bigger?" Nimona rolled her eyes.
"That's a small-minded question."
This dissolved into the two of them arguing over Ballister's head, a testament to how out of it he was that he only opened his eyes once and dazedly stared at the ground before closing them again. Their argument only worsened when Nimona wanted to take him back to the tower and Ambrosius insisted on taking him to a doctor.
"mnno doctor," Ballister mumbled, making Nimona stick her tongue out at Ambrosius in triumph.
They eventually settled on Ambrosius' apartment as the tower only had the couch and a futon that Ballister had gotten Nimona, and at least Ambrosius had hot water. That, in the end, was what won Nimona over, and she begrudgingly allowed him to steer them towards his place.