Chapter Text
Nom was fading. He could feel it as he watched the three people closest to him stand in front of the pale oak that'd sprung up from the place where he died. Even as he watched with a sad sort of smile as they ran their fingers over the solid bark, he could tell that the final threads connecting him to this realm were snapping. It was time for him to let them go.
He hoped that they’d be okay. He hoped that 4c would find his place in the Red Kingdom. He hoped that Katie would continue being a braver knight than he ever was. He hoped that Scott would keep being selfless and kind.
Was he selfish for hoping that they didn’t forget him, though?
He settled for the knowledge that no matter what came next for him, no matter where he ended up, he would leave this world with a warmth in his poor creaking heart that could only come from the love he felt for the people on the clifftop.
And so when his ghostly blue light dimmed, and his vision began to darken, he didn’t fight it.
When Nom opened his eyes again, it was with a kind of surprise. He’d never been one to believe in an afterlife. He didn’t want to think about where he might end up after the monstrosities he’d committed. Yet here he was.
But where was “here”?
He could see his boots below him, could see his hand when he raised it to his face. But everything was pitch black.
Was this all there was for him? An endless nothingness, for eternity? He supposed he deserved it. He should be grateful that it wasn’t someplace worse.
He lowered himself to the ground, there was no point standing up anymore. He’d almost expected to hear the clink of armor scraping together, but no, he’d given it to his sister.
He drummed his gloved hand against his leg for a moment before a thought came to him. He still had his farkle dice!
Never let them dull your farkle.
It felt fitting, sitting in this void, completely disconnected from his home, but still doing something that he loved.
He untied the brown leather pouch from his belt and tipped the dice onto the inky floor, praying that they wouldn’t just sink into the universe never to be seen again. Thankfully, they didn’t.
Two threes. A four. A six. A five and a one.
Not the best start, Nom thought, putting a one to the side and re-rolling the rest of the dice. Three twos and two sixes. He had no choice but to take the twos and bank the score, not wanting to push his luck so early on.
300 points. He’d get better luck next turn, surely!
It was the spirits turn now, and it lifted the dice into the air with a small gust of wind, before letting them clatter soundlessly back to the ground.
Four fives.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nom grumbled, exasperated and not bothering to keep his words PG now that the only one that could hear him was a gambling breeze.
He continued the game, managing to scrape a few thousand points over the next few turns, though the spirit remained infuriatingly in the lead.
Eventually it was 2800 to 2400. He had to get at least six hundred points or the spirit would win. He was glad that he hadn’t tried to gamble with the last of the gold in his satchel. His one consolation was that he wouldn’t actually forfeit anything except dignity if he lost.
He rolled, muttering a quick prayer.
And farkled. On six.
“Fuck me.” He buried his face in his hands and leaned back. What horrible luck.
“Nominal.” A voice spoke from above him.
Nom jumped about a mile, accidentally kicking a couple dice as he flailed in shock.
“What the hell? Who’s there?”
He rested his hand over his satchel. He’d given his mace to 4c before he passed, but he still had a dagger somewhere in his bag.
“I’ve had enough of creepy voices for one lifetime!” He warned the voice, wincing a little as the words left his mouth.
But I’m not alive anymore.
“Your life has been taken from you.”
The invisible figure continued, almost like it could read his mind.
“No duh” Nom said under his breath.
“Taken too early.” The voice pondered, the sound growing louder as if they had drifted closer.
Nom sucked in a breath. Who was this guy? Why was there something in this empty space with him? And why did they sound so remorseful?
“What- who are you?” He asked tentatively, using his other hand to vigorously rub his eyes, as if that’d make the figure suddenly visible.
“I’ve gone by many names.”
They started after a moment of silence, seeming to consider the question.
“Though you’d only recognize me by one.”
“And that is?” Nom prompted.
Please don’t be the fucking Creaking King. Anything but him.
“The God of Knights.”