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Noelle was seventeen when she decided she wanted to be a Knight.
Seventeen meant smothering everyone with overwhelming kindness, politeness, and hospitality, then serving them unconditionally until the brink of unconsciousness. Seventeen meant a content and caring little girl that everyone loved because she would do anything for them and seemed perfectly fine with people walking all over her. Seventeen meant hours in the library, fingers sore from turning pages and scribbling down notes, dark circles forming under her eyes from exhaustion, fatigue, and the constant pretending that everything was fine. Seventeen meant belief, or rather, naïve innocence, in the possibility that maybe one day the Knights would stop rigging her tests and give in to her desperate efforts. Seventeen meant pleasing, pleasing, pleasing to hide her anger and other such negative feelings until they all finally came exploding out of her in a form of uncontrollable rage.
Noelle is twenty-eight when she finally gives up on the Knights of Favonius.
Twenty-eight meant crippling depression, worn out from having spent the last eleven years serving like a dog until all there was left was the feeling of wistful numbness. Twenty-eight meant using alcohol to deflect the overwhelming anger in her once sweet heart, drinking until she was found passed out on the floor of the Angel's Share and leaving poor Diluc to haul her down to Dawn Winery. Twenty-eight meant lying in bed with a throbbing head and an empty stomach, stuck in a world of melancholic peace where the planet crumbles and fire envelopes in the sky. Twenty-eight meant a nasty gash on the sole of her bare foot, caused by accidentally stepping on a forgotten bottle of shattered Dandelion Wine (she cleaned the wound with toilet paper, covered it with two bandages and called it a day). Twenty-eight meant not knowing how to shake the feeling of an empty unknown void in her soul where the 'polite little maid' part of her should be, lost somewhere in the oblivion of unfortunate pastimes.
Seventeen-year-old Noelle would be shocked and horrified at what she'd come to be as an adult, for what kind of teenage girl would want to grow up to be a depressed alcoholic? She was unemployed, unstable, and unhappy, but at least the Knights of Favonius were out of her life forever.
Right?
"I'm quitting."
It's as if the words shook the room violently, but keeping it painfully still.
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm quitting being your maid." Her once upbeat and caring voice was replaced by a deep, hostile one. Her green eyes, once bold and dreamy like emeralds, were now cold and toneless like an aged tree on the edge of death.
There was no trace of the young and determined little girl.
She removed her tiara-like headpiece and place it on Master Jean's desk, as if to reward her with a token of her resignation and resentment.
"You didn't have to wait for me to waste eleven years of my life to tell me why you were rigging my tests," she spat. "You could've given it to me then and there, while you could still look me in the eye."
Jean was, in fact, avoiding her gaze, her expression pained but expectant, as if she knew this would eventually happen. Noelle could see the shameful emptiness in her eyes, the ones she admired once upon a time.
"I have nothing else to say. I hope you're satisfied with whatever you achieved by giving me false hope."
Master Jean, for once, was at a loss for words as Noelle walked out of her office without another word, leaving behind the scent of bitter roses and saddened indignation. A rose, long dead and withered, came loose from her uniform and landed in the center of the doorway.
Noelle's eyes flew open. She bolted upright, panting and dripping with sweat. The taste of alcohol still lingered on her tongue from the previous night. She felt at her face; the cuts and bruises from countless bar fights were bandaged carefully. She wasn't in the dark and lifeless abode that was her room. She was in someone's bed.
Shit, she thought, panic suddenly flooding through her veins. Did I...?
No. The thought of it made her want to throw up. She attempted to get out of the bed, but the sole of her foot scraped the bed frame and her wound reopened. Hissing profanity, she tumbled to the floor with a loud and agonizing thump.
The bedroom door was flung open to reveal a concerned looking Diluc, who was alerted by the sudden commotion. "What happened?" He caught sight of Noelle's bleeding gash and quickly opened one of the cabinets where he stored a first-aid kit.
Oh right, she realized. I'm in Dawn Winery again. Her fears were then relieved. She must've had too much to drink last night at the Angel's Share and passed out.
"How did this happen?" he asked her while cleaning the wound. Noelle explained the incident with the broken wine bottle and Diluc just shook his head. "Well, it looks like you haven't been taking care of it too well."
Noelle hissed in pain as disinfectant was applied to the cut. The stinging gradually eased as Diluc finished off by covering her sole up with two bandages, crossing them like a big X.
"Food is waiting on the table," he said, walking out of the bedroom.
Breakfast for Noelle was more like a late lunch. Incapacitating drunkenness would keep her knocked out well past noon. An alcoholic's sleep schedule is as fucked up as can be.
Usually her first meal of the day consisted of leftover wine and whatever food she was able to choke up with the little money she had. Having blown most of her Mora on nights at the Angel's Share, Noelle could barely afford the cheapest selling product from a local merchant.
However, she's had the luxury of a filling meal the few times she's slept over at Dawn Winery.
She scarfed down the delicious food, not realizing how hungry she had been until she was satiated. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and hummed in satisfaction.
Diluc sighed, bringing Noelle's attention to him. "What?" she asked.
"I can't keep looking after you," Diluc sighed. "I can't keep dragging your unconscious ass back to the Winery every week. I have work to do."
The former maid looked at her lap, suddenly feeling bad about herself. Diluc shouldn't have to be bothered to take Noelle home just because she's had too much alcohol.
Too much alcohol. It was her coping mechanism. A way to deflect the memories that somehow kept crawling back into her mind. They drove her mad.
Water hit Noelle's hands, and she realized she was crying. Not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of Diluc, she dabbed her face with a napkin and tried to regain her composure.
"Sorry," she sniffed.
Diluc rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't be. Let it all out."
And so she did.
Her emotions flowed out of her like a raging tsunami, like a bloodthirsty mitachirl being released from its chains. It was too much all at once, but Noelle couldn't find a way to stop.
She talked about how frustrated she was, having wasted her time and energy and determination on something she was never going to get in the first place. She talked about how badly she wanted to be a Knight, how the desire was so great that it hurt, and how she used to look up to Grand Master Jean so much. She talked about how the little girl with a fire in her eyes that she once was got mauled and slaughtered by the woman she so admired. She talked about alcohol, and how she thought that if she drank a lot, it might be enough to wash her depression away.
She sobbed and wailed and poured out her feelings, the frustration and anger and pain that she bottled up finally being released. She cried until her eyes felt empty.
Diluc was there every step of the way. Not once did he interrupt her, or give a pity "I'm sorry." He listened intently, letting Noelle fall apart in front of him and not taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Noelle didn't know when Diluc started hugging her, but when he did, she felt like sobbing all over again. Not out of anger or sadness, but because she finally felt seen.
And maybe that's all she needed in the first place. For someone to notice her.
So when Diluc started to open up about his story with the Knights, she made sure to notice him too.