Ambrosius and Ballister had loved each other through stolen moments and half-whispered promises, from awkward teenage sparring sessions to the day they stood side by side to be knighted. For years, it felt inevitable—like no matter what the Institution demanded of them, they’d always find their way back to each other

And then the ceremony happened

Steel flashed. Orders were followed. A single, catastrophic second changed everything

Ambrosius had obeyed without thinking, without questioning—his blade severing Ballister’s arm along with the future they’d planned. It was a choice that would haunt him long after Ballister was branded a villain, long after the city turned its back, long after guilt became something Ambrosius carried as heavily as his sword

Everything unraveled after that. Truths surfaced. Lies cracked. With Nimona at his side, Ballister exposed the Institute for what it really was, proving his innocence and forcing the world to reckon with what it had done to him

Forgiveness didn’t come easily. Love didn’t return all at once. But slowly—painfully—they found each other again

Now, the old hideout wasn’t a hideout anymore. Just a rough-edged place they were trying to make livable. The walls were still scuffed, the counters still grimy, and the repairs very much unfinished

Ambrosius stepped inside, setting a few grocery bags down on the cluttered counter. Fresh food among old ghosts

That’s when he heard it—a long, tired yawn, followed by uneven, heavy footsteps

Ballister emerged from the couch area, hair sticking up in every direction, dressed in plain sleep clothes. His prosthetic arm was absent, lying abandoned on the coffee table, leaving him moving one-handed toward the coffee pot like it was the only thing keeping him upright

Ambrosius watched him for a moment, something soft and complicated settling in his chest

Then, gently—carefully, like he was still learning how to exist in moments like this—Ambrosius spoke

“Uh… morning,” he said, a small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth “I was going to make coffee, but I had a feeling you’d want first claim.”