Chapter Text
Everything swam as Nom chucked another few gold pieces on the bar, demanding a refill through a flurry of curses. The barkeep came by, picked up their payment and dutifully refilled Nom’s glass with liquor.
The knight downed the alcohol in a huge swig, coughing from the burning sensation through his throat. The pounding emotions in his mind were dimmed from the drink, and he laid his head down on the bar in his arms. He tried to ignore the self-loathing in his thoughts, push them down with the alcohol as an assisting force.
His drunken thoughts moved painfully slow, “What did I do? Stupid fucking idiot, you… killed them all. Fifteen loyal knights dead by my hands. Stupid. Stupid.”
Something brushed his arm, interrupting his mind. A familiar soft voice broke through, slightly annoyed but sympathetic, “Nom? Why didn’t you report back to me, what happened?”
Tears pricked his eyes as he sluggishly turned his head to look at the elven knight, “Noth- *hic*- nothiiing happened…”
He tipped his glass backwards, annoyed to find it empty. “‘Nother one of these… thingies, it's gooood.” Nom slurred at the bartender, fishing out another gold and slapped it on the wood.
The origin of the soft voice, Graecie, whispered to the barkeep, “Make that a water.”
“Graaeecieeeee nooo, I want more of the… the… whatever it's called” Nom mumbled, barely decipherable in his intoxicated mouth.
The pink elf glanced up at the person pouring the water, “How many has he had?”
They shrugged, “I didn’t count, but definitely the record of the week.” They slid the water glass over to Graecie.
“Oh my god,” She whispered, pushing the water into Nom’s hand, “Drink this Nom.”
He pushed the glass away, “Nooo, I don wanna, I don deserve it.” He shook his head, making the whole world do barrel rolls.
“What? Nom, you need water, you’re gonna kill yourself!”
He frowned, and rested his cheek on the treated wood of the bar, and mumbled, “Mmm, good, m’bee that’s what I deserve.”
Graecie stepped back in shock, “What?! No, Nom, you don’t deserve to die, nobody deserves that.”
Nom’s lip trembled, and tears began to slide down his cheeks, “They didn’t… Graecie they didn’t but I do now. I fucked up reeeaaally bad.”
“They? Nom, tell me what happened.” She demanded as Nom continued mumbling into his arm.
He muttered something indiscernible as an answer, muffled words broken by sobs.
Graecie bit her lip, debating, then said, “You are clearly not sober enough to tell me right now, so we’re gonna go home, okay Nom? You gotta drink some water first.”
He shook his head, tears soaking into his shirt arm, “No, I wanna’nother drink, don’t need waterrr,”
She narrowed her eyes at the drunk knight, figuring out her course of action.
Then she leaned over and spoke softly in his ear, “Come on, we're going home.” She hoists one of Nom’s arms over her shoulder and stands him up, holding the majority of his weight, “If you wanna regret not drinking water tomorrow, then that’s on you.”
Leaning onto his friend, Nom starts to sob, “Graecieeeeeee, I messed uuuuupp” as she pushes open the tavern door. The knight in dark armor shivered in the cold night air.
People stare at the pair as they walk by, towards the wheat fields. Graecie ignores his cries and tells the people giving them very odd looks, “Long night at the bar! Sorry!
“C’mon, Nom, you need sleep. And when you wake up tomorrow, you’re gonna tell me what happened.” He was hauled into the well, down to the cave that held his home. He sniffed as Graecie gently sat him down on his frameless mattress and began unbuckling and removing his armor.
Throughout the process, Nom continued wailing, only now more sleepily saying, “I need ta find the slimy boy, I said i’d help but he went poof! like they did, so now it’s 16 and they are gone and the spiky thing and the o- o– wat’s that werd? I dunnoo and she is gone too now wha else’z nexsst it won be you Graecie? Yer really nice so i really hope not…” He rambled, his words blurring together more and more as he laid back on his plain sheets, the words turning into blabbers, into hums, and eventually into soft snores, his face red and tear-streaked.
Graecie gently removed his glasses and set them on Nom’s bedside table, and placed a bucket and pitcher of water next to his bed.
They sighed and slouched onto the cruddy couch, exasperated, tired, and confused. “What happened to make him so… regretful?” They thought to themself, before letting her consciousness drift off until Nom would woke up, and he would not have a good time.
When the knight woke up, his head was pounding. The skin under his eyes was sore from tears as he rubbed the sleep out of them, and slowly adjusted to look around his room in his tiny cottage in the Well Well Well. Everything was incredibly blurry, at first he assumed from the hangover, then he realized his glasses were on the bedside table.
“How did I remember to take them off? That almost never happens.” Nom wondered as he placed the glasses on his nose, and slowly breathed and let his pounding head adjust.
“Oh.” He saw Graecie asleep on his couch, her spear leaned against the wall, “oh…” As he remembered the night before, and the days before that. Tears sprang into his eyes immediately, even as he tried to stifle a sob that rattled his aching head.
“Why did I do it?” He whispered, not realizing he was speaking out loud, “I’m sorry, I'm so so sorry.”
His bed subtly shook in time with his sobs, as the memories of the swamp, and blood, and helmets, and the sound of ripping metal.
His mind felt heavy.
“Just like my weapon.”
In the moment, he vowed to bury the morningstar. And the actions that went with it.
.
“I won’t break this one”