Archive of Our Own

"Nom, stay still."

Scott flicked him on the head gently, an amused smile on his face as Nom yelped slightly in surprise. They were inside Scott's cottage, a cozy atmosphere surrounding them as vines stretched from the roof to the floor, flowers blooming in every nook and cranny, as if the floor wasn't made of wood planks laid in a mesmerizing pattern, but instead of bountiful grass in a field of flowers. It was night time, the moon hanging high up in the sky, shining down on them through the small window above Scott's bed.

Nom didn't often find himself in Scott's house, them often meeting up in the kingdom or his blacksmith instead, so he'd done his best to soak up the place in his memory. It was a bit nerve wracking in all honesty, being in Scott's bedroom, although there wasn't much difference from the bedroom and the living room. Maybe room wasn't the best way to describe it either, as there was no wall separating the bedroom from the rest of the house — Instead, there was a ladder which placed the bedroom on the second floor.

There was a huge diversity in the flowers that decorated the space, flowers like red tulips, red roses, orange torchflowers, white lilies and a mix of white and yellow wildflowers being some of the most common ones. In honesty, the smell of flora was a bit overwhelming. Nom sat near the end of Scott's bed, turned to the window as he rested his upper body weight on his arms behind him. Scott sat in front of him in between his knees, kneeling with his torso leaned closer to Nom, face scrunched up in focus.

The last thirty minutes or so, Scott had dutifully braided in dandelions into the Blue Kingdom's crown, currently resting on Nom's head. Scott had come to him before, arms filled with lots of plucked dandelions and a expectant smile. Scott reassured him that it would be quick, and that they'd be gone by tomorrow, and after some bickering Nom could do nothing but agree, as he got dragged to the cozy cottage. It was never really a question in the first place — both him and Scott knew, otherwise the flowers wouldn't already have been picked. Nom hardly said no to Scott, an embarrassing fact Nom still tried to deny.

When they entered, Scott had insisted Nom took off his armor, the thing bulky and heavy. Nom had argued at first, the idea of shedding his armor a much too vulnerable action, not only for his own comfort but for Scott's as well. If he were to discard his armor, his protection, he'd be at a big disadvantage in case they got attacked. Nom only really allowed himself to let his guard down in one place, and that was his Well Well Well — and even there, he quite disliked doing it.

But, as Nom had entered Scott's house, looked around to the peaceful, innocent flowers, the kind plants and the welcoming scent, he found his armor didn't belong at all, and neither did he. It was the opposite of everything Nom was, kind and gentle and good. If Nom was going to intrude, taint this place with his very being, the least he could do was not let the forever bloodstained armor touch the clean, pure sheets on Scott's bed.

So, that's how he ended up with his armor and chain mail discarded, laying to the left of Scott's bed alongside his morning star, with just some black undergarments in form of a turtleneck and slightly baggy pants on his own body. The gambeson was also laid on the floor in favor of comfort, although that took some hard convincing from Scott. Nom felt about as naked as if he'd walk around with only trousers, anxiety swirling in his gut at the vulnerable situation he were in.

Nom did his best to try and relax, think of happy and cheerful thoughts, but really he was quite awful at it. So instead he decided to focus on Scott, something he found was quite easy to get lost in thought of.

Scott pulled off the simplistic style significantly better than he did, his white tunic fitting his form nicely, with wide, baggy pants and the blue cape he never took off decorating his shoulders like usual. He'd abandoned most of the brown leather pieces, the vest and gloves discarded near the bed, in order to more easily weave the flowers. The lilies in his hair seemed to only shine brighter the more Nom looked, perfectly complimenting the life and vigor in his eyes, a fresh flourishing green.

Due to the intricate magic that ran throughout the land, the crown was unable to be taken off, which had led into their current, for lack of better words, intimate position that Nom found became harder and harder to ignore. If he had known the position they'd be in, the dangerously pretty face only a few inches away from him, the quick electric touches to his face or hair, adjusting him so Scott could more easily intertwine the stems into the diadem, Nom would have probably said no, more likely fled with his tails in between his legs. Unfortunately for him, it was a bit too late to back out now without seeming suspicious. In exasperation, Nom tried to once again focus on something else, that didn't include the breath of air to his ears as Scott leaned in to the left, braiding yet another flower in, and eventually his thoughts landed on the crown.

He still had a hard time believing it was currently placed on his head. The idea that he, of all people, was crowned king felt both laughable and terrifying, a decision he was sure he'd regret. He knows better than anyone how bad of a king he'll be, how bad of a king he had already been. The guilt and resentment still wore heavy on his heart, the thought of that beach alone, the weapon laid to the left of the bed once stained with treachery, enough to send a foul taste to his tongue and a slight tingle in his eyes. Bitterly, Nom knew that day would never leave his mind. A part of him didn't want it to — it's a good reminder of his irrelevance, of the fact that he is, and would always be, a simple weapon in a battlefield of hundreds of others. That if even his own brother couldn't see him as a person, as a human, there really was no hope for him.

Nom let his gaze drift around the room, avoiding his thoughts yet again, eventually landing on Scott's bedtime table. On it, a beautifully intricate flower pot sat, small patterns of flora etched into the clay. Even after having seen it plenty of times, Nom's heart still skipped a beat when he saw it.

Not because of the pot itself, pretty and undoubtedly carefully handmade by Scott, but because of what was placed in it — a delicate, exquisite dandelion, its vibrant yellow shining proudly. It looked so well tended, he would have thought it was some sort of historic artifact, tended to every hour with the most revolutionary technologies, and not a simple flower with some sentimental value that Scott kept alive.

It was the dandelion Nom had gifted Scott, only a few days after they met.

Nom hadn't thought a lot about the gift back then when he first gave it, placing it in a chest with a messily written sign of gratitude next to it, and being on his way to the blacksmith after. It was meant as a simple thank you, and nothing more. The fact that Scott had kept it, more importantly cared for it, still made his cheeks embarrassingly heat up, and his heart warm up a little in his chest. The fact that a single flower could leave him so flustered, was a secret he would take with him to the grave.

Scott tilted Nom's head slightly, in order to more easily intertwine two flowers, and Nom obliged. Scott was gentle, as he always was, his movements neither harsh nor sharp, instead working on the braid of flowers with a kind of fondness and diligence Nom didn't quite think he deserved. Scott was humming a small melody, fully caught up in his work, and Nom could almost swear his voice sounded a bit like an angel, even with the small voice cracks and off tones. Or maybe he was just really down bad. Nom hoped it was the former.

Scott's nose was slightly scrunched up, his eyes squinting, and time from time he would bit his lip slightly, as if the action itself could boost his attention to detail. Nom found he had a hard time to look away, instead tracing every slight change in his expression as subtly as he could.

It was easy, to be in Scott's presence. There were no expectations to be a great powerful knight, or a loyal mindless subject, or a perfect independent brother. He didn't have to think of the 15 knights whose blood were forever imprinted on his hands, or the sword which had dubbed him as a knight on his shoulders as he stated his oath proudly, like he had found his mission in life, like knighthood was his life.

It was easy to forget how his body, flesh and blood and bone alike, were merely a facade to his soul which served solely as a weapon, created to fight and slash and kill. The countless days, weeks, years spent training as a child, bruise after bruise after bruise, desperately trying to get better, trying to grow more powerful — capable enough to protect his kingdom and its people, most importantly to protect his people.

Katie, with her fiery red hair and bountiful small freckles, painting her face like she was an artwork herself, with laughter that Nom was certain could light up a whole cave. Her eyes, who once looked upon him with kindness, but now undoubtedly stared at him with disgust or fear, or a cruel mix of both. 4C, whose smile once felt so kind and lovely and safe, the cloak he wore even in his sleep forever on his shoulders, now gone from both the Red and Blue Kingdoms forever, the only remains being their tainted memories and the bounty.

He could forget all of it, like a veil of comfort.

"—ello, earth to Nom?" Scott furrowed a brow, a hand coming to poke at his nose weakly. His eyes looked at Nom's curiously, slightly perturbed, having most likely called to him a numerous of times before he noticed. "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm— I'm fine," Nom smiled bashfully, a bit embarrassed to be so out of focus, "sorry, I'm just, thinking, I guess."

"No need to apologize," Scott said with slight amusement, brushing a few strands of hair away from Nom's face, "what were you thinking about?"

"Uh," Nom ignored the butterflies in his stomach, "…stuff?"

"Stuff?"

Nom nodded. "Yeah, stuff."

Scott snickered, rolling his eyes. "Mind sharing this 'stuff' with a poor clueless mage?"

Nom paused, biting his lip as his hesitation was clear. "Well, uh…"

Scott looked at him with a pause, before sighing fondly as he cupped Nom's face with both his hands. "I'm not going to like, force you you to tell me, or anything," he stroked Nom's cheek with his thumb in small circle movements, "I just want you to know that if you do want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

Nom gulped, diverting his eyes as his stomach swirled with feelings he'd rather not identify, suddenly feeling a bit too warm for comfort. He wasn't nearly used to this kind of patience. Nom held his breath, trying desperately to latch onto Scott's words and make sense of them, find an appropriate answer that wasn't too much but also not too little. Something that wouldn't spoil the mood, or cause Scott to stare at him in dismay, but would also be truthful, because he made a promise and he is practicing honesty.

Unfortunately, his mind was a little bit too preoccupied with the way Scott gently held his face, like he was a priceless treasure, instead of the foul dragon you had to kill to get to it, and the way he moved his thumb in repetitive, soft gestures on his cheek, and Scott's breath which slightly touched Nom's face, sending a involuntary shudder throughout his body. Nom really wished his feelings were easier to control, that they weren't a wildfire of emotions that swarmed his gut repeatedly, burning every other thought and emotion in the process.

Nom was sure if he'd let his gaze wander to Scott's face, to the way his warm green eyes shone with such kindness and life, to the light blonde eyelashes and his slightly pink-dusted cheeks, to his sharp jawline or slightly curled locks — Nom would simply melt into a puddle, and on his gravestone it would tell the tale of a powerful Blue Kingdom warrior, who died at the hands of his own pathetic crush.

Yeah okay, he was down bad.

Slowly, Nom composed himself, letting out a slight shaky exhale. He tried to ignore the embarrassing tint of want in his voice, or the slight flick of his gaze from Scott's eyes to his lips. "I can try."

Scott smiled fondly, thankfully not noticing his fumbling — or at the very least not mentioning it — as he let go of Nom's face and leaned back. Nom forced himself to not chase the warm, inviting touch he lost, or let out any sound he shouldn't. He had to keep some of his dignity intact.

Scott nodded. "I'm listening."

* .^~—~^ .*

When Nom said he'd try, he had meant simple words — like "I'm just thinking of what happened a few days ago," or "just being a worrywart like usual." Instead, somehow, he had spilled every single thought and fear laid dormant in his cruel head.

It started simple, of the obvious, the slime spattered on the beach, the rage and dishonesty and betrayal he felt, and the guilt present just underneath it all. Nom didn't want to go in detail, of how his mind replayed the fear in 4C's voice, or the feeling of that damn weapon he swore he'd never pick up. He didn't want to tell Scott, tell anyone, about the fear trickling beneath his skin, something so abnormal he didn't know how to deal with it.

But, like always, Scott found a way to break through his defense.

So, that's how he ended up tucked in Scott's embrace, one arm embracing him with care near his stomach, holding Nom like the world might take him if he doesn't, and the other hand playing mindlessly with his hair, rolling one dark strand of the other around his finger, sometimes slightly tugging. It flustered Nom a lot more than he'd like to admit, especially considering he was basically venting about his whole life in the process. It was a weird mix of feelings.

Scott continued putting flowers on Nom's crown, weaving the best he could, although it was considerably less easy with just one hand. In the end, he resorted to simply play with Nom's hair, finding it much easier. The flowers had almost been done anyway, Scott said.

Scott was leaned onto the wall behind them, the moonlight framing his silhouette quite beautifully and giving a light shine to the room, making it not too light and not too dark. Nom laid with his head tucked into Scott's neck, taking in the sweet smell of flora and the weird, unfamiliar feeling of comfort he felt.

Nom had never been exceptionally good with physical contact, even as a child it was something he had struggled with. When he got physically close to someone, it was either because his sister had surprised him from behind, tackling him to the ground and engaging in a playful wrestling battle, or because he had to get close enough in combat to initiate the kill.

His father had given him hugs, sometimes, but it was always Katie who got the most of them. Nom had grown up fast — years ahead of his peers, his mind always more of an adult than a child. He didn't need hugs, or sweet words of comfort, and neither did he chase it.

Sometimes, he had thought it was unfair. Why did Katie get the hugs, and the kisses on the forehead, and the sweet whispers of love? Nom didn't need it, of course, it was his duty as the older brother to be more grown up, more responsible. But he couldn't lie and say that sometimes, he still craved his fathers warm hugs or his mothers forehead kisses.

Scott had hummed, listening intently to his every word, as Nom tried to navigate through his feelings. In honestly, Nom had always been taught to suck it in — he was a knight, and knights had no use of emotions on the battlefield. He wasn't quite sure he was doing this whole 'talking about your feelings' thing correctly. Probably not.

"I'm sorry you were treated like that, Nom," Scott replied after listening, giving a slight squeeze with his arm, "it sounds unfair."

Nom made a slightly muffled noise of acknowledgement in response. In honesty, he wasn't quite sure what to call it — he supposed it had been unfair in some way to Katie too, the constant pressure, the judging, the imminent war, otherwise she wouldn't have left.

"I hope you know that you don't have to suck your feelings in, Nom. At least not with me."

"…Thank you," Nom swallowed, "it's hard not to, though, when you've done it for so long. Plus, even if it technically isn't the best advice to give a kid, it is a necessary one."

"How so?"

Nom raised a amused brow, turning to look at Scott. "Because we're knights. If a knight had a tantrum every time something didn't go their way, they'd be dead two seconds in. Emotions are a weakness in battle."

"Well, to be fair," Scott hummed with a shrug, a smile on his face, "you still kinda do throw a tantrum every time something doesn't go your way."

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying!" Scott giggled, ruffling Nom's hair slightly the best he could with the crown still on.

Nom feigned annoyance, secretly enjoying the bit as his chest felt lighter and lighter the more they talked. Nom could never get tired of conversing with Scott. Even after an insult, albeit a gest one, he couldn't find a single ounce of judgment in Scott's voice, and never has he found one in his actions either.

A small, tiny part of Nom almost wished he did, if only for it to be more familiar, something easier to navigate through, easier to not get attached to. The bigger part of him desperately prayed it would never change, that Scott would never look at him the same way his family did, even if he knew it was bound to happen eventually. He was well aware a timeline where Nom was truly allowed something good to actually stay, simply did not exist.

"Say," Scott said, voice a bit more gentle, like he was testing the grounds, "didn't Katie train the same way you did? How come it was so different?"

"I mean, yeah, I guess," Nom hummed, "we surrounded ourselves with different people though, and I grew in rank quicker than she did."

"That makes sense." Scott bit his lips, a slight uncertain expression on his face. "I'm not saying you weren't treated unfairly, or anything, but, don't you think that maybe, a part of why she got more affection than you was because you didn't… reach for it?"

His voice was gentle, free of judgment but slightly nervous. It wasn't said in a way to taunt Nom, or to invalidate his experience — and so Nom hummed as he tried to give it some genuine thought.

It was true, he was more reserved than his sister. He didn't hug his father back the same way Katie did back then, neither did he express his affection in words or kisses. Still, Nom couldn't honestly say it had been fair. After their parents left, all their responsibilities landed on him, the protecting, the fighting, the cooking, the cleaning. It was his responsibility, suddenly, something he never once had wanted.

"Maybe a little bit," Nom answered hesitantly, "I never really liked physical touch, intimacy or words of affection. I've always been more of a action kinda guy." Nom paused. "Non-physical ones, I mean."

Scott chuckled as he nodded along, "yeah, I've noticed that."

"Aw man, is it that obvious?"

"Well," Scott drawled, "just yesterday you made sure to bring enough gold and food to get the whole Blue Kingdom party safely to, and then through, the dungeon, yet couldn't reply 'I care for you too' when I expressed my affection two days ago."

"Okay, well—"

"—And don't you say you didn't hear me, I know you did."

Nom paused, before pouting. "I wasn't gonna say that."

Scott rolled his eyes, "then can you look into my eyes and tell me that you care for me too?"

Nom stared at Scott's eyes for a good 0,5 seconds, before averting with a sheepish laugh. "…Next question."

They continued like that for awhile. Nom talked, sometimes about fleeting, irrelevant things, like the time Katie had accidentally thrown sand in her own eyes while training, or the time 4C had tried stealing a gold ingot from him, only to be caught in the act and dropping it on his feet in shock.

Other times, they talked about the war, the countless houses and buildings he'd built up, only to have to watch them collapse once again, as the cycle continued. They talked about some of Nom's friends who he had grown up with, the many people both good and bad that he'd known, which were now long dead, buried in a graveyard destroyed by Red.

After some puppy eyes, Scott laughed and moved a bit closer to Nom as he, too, talked about some of his emotions and experiences. They talked about his childhood, as a little boy with chubby fingers who got to water a plant for the first time, when he learned to bake, and created bread that made his ten year experienced father jealous. They talked about when Scott was a teen and he almost drowned while learning to swim, or the time he tried dyeing his hair blue. Nom realized there was so much about Scott he didn't know, so many questions that weren't answered, so many adventures he had missed.

And so, Nom decided to fix that. He asked Scott what his favorite dessert were, why he loved white lilies so, how the education was back in Barrowhill, what magic he'd choose to have if he wasn't a light and nature mage, the list went on. Nom found that for every answer, his heart swelled a bit more, and he grew a little bit more attached, a little more protective, a little more enamored by everything that made Scott, Scott.

Gods, was that a dangerous game.

Nom knew it was bad, he knew that he was traveling down a rabbit hole that'll only grow deeper, darker, luring him in with false whispers of love and comfort, only to trap him there forever. He knew it was like impaling a sword to his heart himself, drag it deeper and deeper in till all his organs were cut. But, Nom thought, it was so, so hard to stop. He wished someone was there to slap some sense into him, remind him of the instructions he'd gotten as a child.

Throughout every knight's childhood, one of the most important lessons they got was to not grow too attached to anyone — to not let someone's looks or personality bewitch you. They were all living in an active war zone, there was no guarantee that any of them would even see the next day.

His swordsman coach used to tell them to see each other as nothing more than colleagues, coworkers on the battlefield and strangers on the street. Of course, that rule was hard to follow as a kid, and Nom had paid the price for it. After his fifth friend died in his arms, her face once full of life suddenly so dead and lifeless, Nom had sworn to not make another friend ever again. To not grow attached, make room for his already dead heart for more heartbreak. He'd keep those he had close to his chest, and everyone else would burn, if they so had to.

Of course, Nom was a first-class rule breaker, and so, only a few years after, he would find 4C, battered and bruised in a cell he didn't belong to. And then, he'd meet Mae, her smile and joy so infectious, and then he met Shan, who still insisted he weighted his dice even after hours of convincing. And now it was Scott, with his gentle and patient being, and that presence of safety and trust, that Nom was still a bit too scared to get close to.

Then again, he supposed that was maybe a bit too late, considering they were basically cuddling at the moment. Fuck, he forgot about that.

Nom still felt a weird tingling in his stomach at their positions. He had half a mind to simply jerk up and move from the bed to the floor and make up some excuse, that the crops needed watering, or maybe he suddenly really needed to pee. It felt dangerous — it was dangerous, to be this close. To feel Scott's warmth through his own body, the brush of his blonde locks to Nom's face, to have his arms around him, not to protect him in battle but to simply hold. It was bound to turn into a disaster, another cycle of loss and regret.

Don't get attached. Nom knew it was important, knew he couldn't let himself get close. Couldn't let himself enjoy the slow, predictable sound of Scott's heartbeat, couldn't let himself enjoy his neck so close to Nom's, bare and vulnerable as if Scott truly trusted him fully, as if to say 'my life is in your hands.'

Even so, Nom didn't leave. Even if the voice in his mind constantly pecked him, chanting bad idea, bad idea! Some part of him, a foolish, naive part of him, desperately wanted to believe, wanted to hope that it was safe — that nothing bad would happen, that Scott wouldn't leave, wouldn't betray him or die in his arms. That maybe, maybe, the gods could be kind to him for once.

Scott started humming a melody, moving himself slightly to lay more comfortably, and Nom moved with him. Putting a hand around Scott's waist, Nom nuzzled his head a bit closer into his neck, letting his body relax a bit, despite the warning protests in his mind. Scott stilled, slightly, before moving them a bit closer to each other fondly. It felt a bit like puzzle pieces, fitting together perfectly.

Nom tried to remember the last time he'd let himself relax this much. It must have been a few months ago, at least, when he still had 4C. They'd been out camping, sent on a two day mission by some monarch to investigate a group of travelers nearby. They had reason to suspect the traveling party were secretly Red Kingdom members, considering the amounts of weapons they had carried with them and their suspiciously red attire, although the Red kingdom didn't actually dress in red that much.

Nom and 4C had quickly realized that the information was wrong, as the travelers left on a boat only five hours after leaving the Blue Kingdom. Although they were supposed to report back immediately, Nom and 4C decided to camp out in the forest instead, close to the beach as they caught meat and cooked it on the handmade campfire they messily put together. There, under the cover of the night and the wash of waves, they exchanged small secrets, gossiped about the members of their kingdom, spat some hate on their enemies and finally cuddled together as tiredness overtook them. Nom thinks that must have been one of the few times he'd have had an uninterrupted, peaceful sleep, ever since he'd broken his oath.

Something in him sank as he realized that he'd never get to do that again. Subconsciously, Nom tightened the hold he had on Scott just a bit, his heart aching. It truly, truly wasn't fair.

Nom wondered if 4C also thought of their better times, when they'd stay up the whole night playing Farkle, or work together in a battlefield like they had known each other since birth. He wondered if 4C also got nightmares. If he also hadn't experienced a single moment of peace ever since that day at the beach. Nom wondered what the nightmares would have been about, were that the case.

He wondered if they'd be about him.

Nom wondered if he was placed on a rock, meters above ground as harsh waves splashed onto the shore. If the sky was blue, or if it was red, dripping with blood all around them. He wondered how he'd have looked, in 4C's eyes. Was he a sword, a blade so sharp it could slice through obsidian, glistening in the sun as it became covered in slime? Was he the devil, red large horns decorating his skull, a red tail swishing behind him? Was he a dragon, the big foul beast a final boss to reach the treasure?

Or was he simply himself, morning star in hand, cape fluttering in the wind with tears stinging in his eyes and rage the likes even god would have worried for. Was his eyes not of a demon, but of his own, dark and unpredictable and furious? When 4C gazed upon him, did he feel it unfair, did he feel Nom was overreacting, that the betrayal should have simply been water under the bridge, or did he feel anger, that Nom took a stand, that he didn't let 4C walk over him?

Did he feel scared?

"Hey, Scott?" Nom whispered hesitantly, trying to make sure his voice was stable.

"Yeah?" Scott stopped humming, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at Nom. the moonlight dimmed the room, enveloped them in a blanket of calm as Nom felt his face scrunch up, his heart beat a bit faster and his stomach churn.

"Are you scared of me?"

"No."

Nom felt his breath hitch, as Scott's answer came quick, effortlessly, like it was the easiest question he'd heard. Like even the idea was absurd. As if Nom hadn't ruined every single life he'd step foot into — as if he hadn't killed more people than he'd known, as if his whole being wasn't the very thing to be frightened of.

He was a knight, a weapon in disguise as a human, faking his way through life. That had always been the case, and that had always been what he'd been seen as. Even his brother, who he'd given up so much for, given up everything for, saw him as nothing else in the end, just another knight, another shedder of blood to be scared of.

No matter what Nom did, it always ended like that.

Nom does everything for them, lets them into his broken, frail heart, captures every word they speak and every breath they take, and locks it in a cage, deep inside his ribcage. Let's his heart drown with it till nothing of him is left.

Yet even so, even after all his care and sacrifices devoted solely to them, they leave. They leave, and leave him behind, heart empty, because what his coach always said was true — love is a plague. On the battlefield, you cannot let yourself get attached, you cannot let yourself be a son, or a brother, or a friend, or a lover. You are a weapon, and that is the case till you eventually die, sword at your throat with nothing but your honor surviving.

Despite so, Nom so desperately wants to believe. He wants to believe that maybe, his sister will return with his heart, stitch it back together the best she could, that maybe his brother will one day return when the war is over and Blue has won, and they will be able to start over. Nom is certain he'd never craved anything more.

So, even if foolish, even if he is absurd for even considering, he clings onto Scott a bit more anyway, holds his breath and his laughs and his smiles in his chest, lets his heart drown in them in the familiar way he knows will become his doom. Something deep inside Nom, knows that it's too late, anyway. That he is as attached as he is damned, that he needs this curse as much as he needs breathing.

That if he loses this too, this light in the endless dark abyss, this flower in a field of fire, it doesn't matter which weapon he is, which skills he has, how many battles he has won — he will die, wither away, and not even his honor will survive as he dies the pathetic man he always was.

Nom's self-deprecation was rudely interrupted by a slight tug on his hair, and Nom quickly bit his lip in surprise, eyes going wide. "Ouch, what was that for?"

"You're spiraling," Scott stated plainly. His expression was unshakable, knowing very well he is right, but with worry in his eyes and a obvious furrow in his brow, emotions on display. Scott had never been afraid to show his emotions or thoughts on his face, his expressions as truthful as his words, as his whole being. Nom wasn't quite sure how Scott did it, but he didn't complain. It felt safer like that, in a way. He felt safer.

Whatever Scott saw in Nom's expression resulted in a fond but concerned sigh, and seconds after his hands left Nom's scalp and stomach and was placed around his face, holding him gently as he leaned closer. "I could never be scared of you," Scott whispered gently, tone quiet and low, like it was meant for him alone, so full of affection and so completely raw Nom thought his heart might simply stop, or it might beat in his chest so loudly it'd destroy his ribcage.

Scott's eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled, every word he had said lost as Nom gazed at his eyes full of adoration, adoration that Nom could almost convince himself was for him — that the hands on his face was there for the need to be closer, to feel each others touch. That when Scott felt Nom's breath to his skin he too shuddered, felt his heart skip a bit and his cheeks flush. That Nom truly and truthfully deserved all this care and tender intimacy, that when he watched Scott's eyes swiftly flick to his mouth it wasn't a simple mistake or illusion of the eye, but because he felt the same way Nom did. That he wanted in the same way Nom did.

Before he had noticed, Nom had leaned in slightly, his mind foggy and his breath shaking as he gripped a bit tighter with his hand and swallowed a bit less saliva than usual, his mouth suddenly dry. As quickly as it happened, Nom snapped out of it, rising quickly with his back straight as he pulled away clumsily, sitting up. "Right. Okay, yeah, uhm," Nom paused, trying to swallow his mouth which ran even dryer as a wave of shame overcame him, "that's good, I think. Sorry, uhm, what— what were you saying?"

Scott watched him, slightly exasperated and slightly amused as he sighed patiently, his cheeks slightly red for some reason. "I said, I could never be scared of you."

Nom made a sound of disagreement, smirking as he tried getting control of the situation the best way he knew how. "Hey, never say never."

"I'm serious Nom."

"I am too! You never know what life's gonna throw at you, man."

Scott glared at him, crossing his arms slightly unamused. Nom bit his lip, averting his eyes as he felt the situation grow more serious by the second, as if Scott truly believed what he said, as if he wasn't jesting, as if he really, truthfully, meant it. Nom knew Scott wouldn't lie, he knew it went against Scott's whole being, yet his mind still contradicted itself, because surely it couldn't be the truth either? Surely Scott wouldn't be able to look at his soul, see the hundreds of people he had murdered, slaughtered ruthlessly, and still smile at him like before?

Surely, he wouldn't still have him in his embrace, play with his hair, share his stories, if he'd known the truth of Nom's being? If he knew he wasn't a human, not a body with flesh, but simply a blood tainted weapon in disguise?

"4C said that too," Nom muttered after some time, voice a lot more broken than he wanted it to be, a lot more vulnerable.

"Well, I'm not him, am I?"

"No, but— you can't— you can't know that you won't be. You can't know that you'll never be scared, or disgusted, or see me with blood on my face and my hands and not raise a sword in fear, because that's—," Nom exhaled with a quiver, trying to stabilize his voice— "that's what everyone else has done, my whole life.

"They've said they won't, and then they have anyway."

Scott's face melted into sympathy as Nom's voice broke, a quiet look of understanding in his eyes. "You're right, I can't." Scott reached out his hands, holding them with his palms up, an invitation but not a pressure to take them, "But, I promise, I won't ever leave. It doesn't matter how much blood will stain your being, you're not getting rid of me. At least not on my own volition."

Nom snorted, raising a brow, "even if I'd smash you with a morning star?"

Scott shrugged. "I mean, you wouldn't ever have any reason to smash me with a morning star, and I know you wouldn't do it without one. And even if you, hypothetically, did have a reason, I wouldn't leave. I'd force you to have a long hard talk about it, yes, and I would be hurt for sure, but that's about it.

"In all honesty, I'm not sure I could leave you, Nom."

Nom felt a doubtful, absurd laugh in his throat as the idea of someone, much less Scott, having such a trust in him emerged. How many times had he fantasized about that? For someone to have such trust in him, such faith, that the simple idea of doing wrong wasn't even on their mind?

Nom knew he wasn't a fail proof man. He knew he'd done wrong, he knew he'd done more wrong than most, guilt and shame having formed shackles which trapped him constantly, haunted his every waking moment and dreams alike. It wasn't a coincidence, all the trauma he'd experienced. He was certain it was the gods, punishing him for his deeds.

He was a monster, a dragon with claws sharp enough to tear down houses, fire hot enough to burn his enemies to crisp. He was dangerous, and feared, and horrific and so lonely, and that was how he'd continue to be, till his last breath. Nom had accepted it.

So why did Scott still try? Why did he try polishing Nom's scales, find him treasures for his hoard, walk in the fire Nom himself made in belief it wouldn't hurt him, give him that same smile of patience and kindness, that Nom couldn't possibly deserve?

He didn't get it.

Hesitantly, he accepted Scott's hands with his own, watching with a painful longing as Scott slowly interlaced their fingers, as their hands interlocked like it was the most natural thing ever. His heart ached at the sight, at the careful motion, at the butterflies it sent through his stomach and the dread that formed as a stone. He wasn't quite sure how something could feel so wrong and yet so right at the same time.

"And what if I didn't have a good reason," Nom asked with a lump in his throat, "but I did it anyway?"

"That wouldn't happen."

Nom felt his heart ache as he stared at Scott, at the answer that came as quick as blinking, as easy as breathing, without neither hesitation nor uncertainty. Nom wanted to believe it, craved to believe it, so desperately, yet he felt his mind so full of doubt, he wasn't sure it had ever stored anything else. He wanted to beg, to plead Scott to see him for who he was, for this falsified image Nom had tricked him with to disappear. To understand that the faith Scott had in him, the pure and innocent belief, was misplaced. That he could use it for someone better, someone that wasn't him.

Scott sighed fondly. "And, in the hypothetical that it did," he brought Nom's hands to his lips, planting a warm, soft kiss on his knuckles with care, as if Nom wasn't something to be feared, but rather treasured, worshiped, "I think we can sort it out together.

"I trust you, Nom."

Nom's breath hitched, as the words sank in and settled in his heart, as Nom felt his brain stop working and his heartbeat speed up and his heart throb. I trust you, Nom. Trust. Nom felt something in him break, like a great wall tumbling down into pieces as his gaze snapped to his hands, currently decorated with the ghost of Scott's lips, looking upon it as if Scott had placed a promise, a ring to his finger that said 'I won't leave.' Nom felt heat rise to his face as quickly as rain fell from the sky, hastily jerking his hand back as if he got burned, his body going into over-drive and his eyes starting to prickle.

In hindsight, it was pathetic how much of a reaction he gave — a simple kiss on his hand, and a four word sentence — enough for the great powerful knight he was to tremble completely. Enough for the walls in his mind to tumble down, enough for his heart to burst.

A kiss to your hand didn't even need to be romantic, like his body was so convinced it was. After all he had himself done it multiple times to both monarchy and authority. Unfortunately, even with that knowledge, it didn't help the way he suddenly felt it a bit harder to breathe, or the way his mind struggled a bit more to structure words.

Nom slowly looked at his hand again, awkwardly positioned somewhere in the air, and investigated his knuckles which looked no different than a few seconds ago. If Scott wasn't right there, staring at him with a undecipherable look, Nom might have done something very embarrassing, like brought his hand to his own lips and kissed the same spot, let his lips linger and imagine it to be something else — Scott's own hand, or if he was feeling extra like a loser, maybe even his lips.

Maybe he'd lay himself in bed and think up a scenario, away from the world they lived in and played somewhere else, where there was no war and no contradicting feelings and no conflicting family. Maybe, he'd live together with his sister and brother, in a small house not nearly fit for all four, and the sun would shine everyday. He'd play Farkle with 4C, gamble useless trinkets and see who won more, and he'd train together with Katie, not to protect her from a battlefield but simply for fun, and he'd own a garden with Scott, where he desperately tried absorbing information about the flowers, only to have to ask Scott with a pout in the end as his brain failed.

Maybe, in that lovely weird, Scott would kiss his hand every day, and Nom wouldn't be the fool and freeze in infatuation, instead laugh at the jest and kiss Scott's back. And maybe, if he indulged the stupid, irrational part of him, Scott would then cup Nom's face in his hands, and—

Nom bit his tongue hard. Yeah, this is starting to turn pathetic.

He had to calm down, and fast, make up some sort of excuse to cover up his shameful reaction, the ever growing red on his face and the undoubtedly tense posture. No matter what, Nom cannot ruin this. He can't ruin the one good thing he still had, that somehow still stayed in his life.

Nom took a deep breath, in and out, but instead of calming down, nom felt with dismay as he simply crouched into himself with a pitiful groan, hiding his face with his hands as he felt his heart undoubtedly beat faster and faster and then out of his chest and onto the floor.

"…You're gonna be the death of me," he muttered quietly under his breath, a line meant to no one but himself. Because truly, Nom felt as if he'd died, as if all of this is some sort of dream, a delusion the devil created, that any second now will disappear, leave him in a dark void of nothing, just to remind Nom of how utterly lonely he is, how utterly foolish of a man he is.

To his horror, Nom heard a surprised chuckle in response, and then the movement of fabric come closer, a low amused voice reaching his ears. "I will?"

Fuck, Scott had heard him.

Suddenly, he felt Scott's gentle hands, prying his own slowly away from his face and lifting it up gently, as Nom stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

"Nom, look at me."

Nom opened his eyes begrudgingly, taking in the sly smile on Scott's lips, his pink dusted cheeks, the close distance between them and the twinkling, mischievous eyes. Nom tried to ignore how easily he had obliged, how easily he complied with Scott's every ask, as if he was the monarch instead and not Nom. He pushed the thoughts away immediately, the idea of being obedient most certainly enough to make his brain stop working completely.

"I didn't know I could get this kind of reaction out of you," Scott teased, his own cheeks turning darker as he appreciated Nom's undoubtedly redder face.

Nom only groaned louder, embarrassment flooding through every vein in his body as he turned his face away in protest, suddenly very much regretting locking eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You must be imagining things."

Scott hummed, moving closer as he took up the space in between Nom's knees. "Imagining, huh?"

"Yup. You've got a real wild imagination, man."

Scott smirked, once again cradling Nom's face, turning him till they're face to face. "Something tells me I'm not the only one."

Fuck. Scott got him there.

Nom squinted, taking great care to gaze straight into Scott's eyes, not letting his eyes flick to his hair or cheeks or lips. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe."

"You could at least try and deny it, man..."

Scott raised a brow. "Do you want me to?"

"Well—" Nom bit his lip— "maybe I do. Maybe, uh..."

"Uh?"

"It doesn't matter!" Nom insisted. "You've got nothing to be amused about either way, because nothing happened and nothing is happening. End of sentence."

"Nothing at all?"

"That's right."

"Really, now..." Scott leaned forward, whispering in his ear softly. "Absolutely nothing?"

Nom felt a shiver run throughout his body as he cleared his throat awkwardly, gripping the sheets slightly harder, stubborn to not let Scott win.

"Yup. Absolutely nothing."

"Even if I do this?" Scott leaned closer, his lips almost touching Nom's neck, warm breath tickling the spot lightly.

This guy.

"Still— still nothing. Yup. Totally. I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Even if I leaned even closer?"

This guy.

"That's— I mean yeah of course, that's, like, nothing unusual at all, man, but it—" Nom swallowed, trying to find a way out— "it would be kinda weird to do. Y'know. As friends, and all."

"Friends," Scott echoed.

"Yes," Nom nodded, "friends."

Right," Scott pulled away, crossing his arms as he lifted a brow discontentedly, "I know you're dense, but you're not this dense."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to your friend," Nom countered, a grin clearly heard in his voice.

Scott facepalmed as he let out a loud and exaggerated sigh, his shoulders slumping. "You're hopeless." A clear pink dusted Scott's cheeks as Nom let out a entertained chuckle.

"I would like to think I'm pretty hopeful, thank you very much."

"Right, okay, so now you're just mischaracterizing yourself."

Nom burst out in laughter, loud and carefree, his shoulders shaking slightly as his heart felt giddy. Scott rolled his eyes affectionately, letting the feigned disappointment slip as he regarded Nom with eyes of adoration.

"God," Scott said, his own voice tinted with laughter, "you are impossible."

"Why thank you, I try my best." Nom cackled as Scott hit him lightly on the shoulder.

The moon shone bright as they both calmed down, and slowly Nom felt himself get more control over his thoughts, the love struck daze decreasing. He felt his stomach flip and his mind halt, as a terrifying and exciting realization hit him.

Scott had been flirting with him.

Nom had never been good at deciphering signs like that, romance and the like. He enjoyed putting more time into slashing with swords and preparing for the future than cutting roses and practicing confessions. Nom remembered times in the past, where girls and boys had come up to him, flowers in their arms and a flushed red face, begging to be his partner. Some of them had speeches prepared, listing all the things they believed they loved about him, and others simply said a few words and ran away, faces too red to speak properly.

Nom had always declined such proposals — he had no interest in romance, not with the war right on their tails. The idea of spending time on dates, kissing and gossiping when they could any minute be attacked, simply felt foolish. Every day was a bomb threatening to explode, a missile going off, a sword around your throat. It could happen any second, as fast as you let down your guard — he was not about to risk that.

Nom believed in the motto to live every day like it's your last, he truly did. It was a lifestyle all knights adapted, knowing how unpredictable the battlefield was and how short your life was going to be. Most knights died after twenty, after all. But Nom had always been stubborn — even if the odds, the likelihood was against them, he wanted to make sure his family could live their whole life, up until old age took them. That is why he trained so hard, that is why he has this knight persona.

Not to brag, but Nom was aware he was good looking, and he knew his fighting skills were phenomenal — in most people's minds, he was the perfect romanticized knight, the one you'd read about in romance novels for delusional teens. He trained day and night, everyday, stocked up the kingdoms resources and patrolled daily, and when the kingdom had been busier, livelier, back then, most of the civilians had come to him when they needed help.

But the real Nom, the one underneath all the armor and the confidence, was so different. Anxious, paranoid, stubborn and stupid. He was just a man with a sword — Nom wasn't even an actual knight. Whichever persona those people fell in love with, whatever image they had conjured up in their mind, wasn't him. They hadn't seen him on the brink of tears, they hadn't seen him crazy and mad or with an arrow to his heart.

Scott had.

Scott had seen him with blood to his face, with despair in his eyes, with rage in his soul. He had seen him at his worst, as a killer and a mad king, and still he stayed. Still he looked at Nom with admiration, still Scott let him into his house and into his arms. Still Scott saw him as a person, as a human, and god did Nom find that hard to understand. It was a puzzle he feared he'd never be able to piece together.

Scott didn't care about knighthood. He didn't care about the honor of defeating your opponent, of defending your nation, of the burden on your back to charge straight into battle, of a sword on your shoulder and an oath uttered. Nom couldn't make sense of it, couldn't understand why. What could be so good in him, to make someone as celestial as Scott want to stay? What wicked thing had Nom said to convince Scott that his being is of something it isn't?

What did Scott see in him, that warranted a kiss on his hand, a gentle embrace, a whisper to his ear, a damn tease to kiss his neck? Nom didn't get it.

Could it be some sort of prank? An elaborate jest, planned days before, will Mae jump out any minute with a laugh, screaming 'pranked' in a amused voice? Was it simply a script Scott followed, not because he wanted to but because he was told, did Graecie pull him to the side and tell him all about Nom's inner conflict, begging to 'just do something about it, I'm growing tired of it.'

Was it a way for Scott to judge him, pluck apart his inner fears and terrors, see through the cracks of his armor, and then lay it wide for everyone, showcase his shameful feelings for even the gods to judge?

Or, a small part of him whispered, was it a way to show that his feelings were reciprocated? Had the kiss on the knuckles flustered Scott too, had his mind gone a bit fuzzy when he leaned closer, had he had to hold himself back while he breathed on his neck, the knowledge that it would so easy to just lean a bit closer, plant his own lips on Nom's neck, and—

"Nom?"

Nom looked up, broken away from his thoughts as Scott called on him, face scrunched in worry. He looked worried, or anxious, fidgeting with his hands slightly. Nom found he really didn't like that look on Scott's face, the furrow in his brow and slight tense of his shoulder, so far away from the usual Scott. The one with a relative calm, with logical thoughts that grounded Nom with a hand to his shoulder, the brain to calm down his brawn.

How long had Scott looked like that, and why didn't Nom notice it? He felt a pang of guilt at the thought. Nom cleared his throat, making an effort to look sensible when Scott couldn't. "What's up, Scott?"

Scott took a deep breath, in and out. He opened his mouth, only to close it, as if he wasn't quite sure how to word it, a slight look in his eye Nom thought looked almost close to guilt, even if there was nothing to feel guilty for. Nom wondered if maybe this was it. If he was guilty for this was the final moment before he'd leave, if he'd say 'I need to go,' promising he'll be back in a few minutes, and then never returning, leaving yet another phantom behind to take up Nom's life, yet another person who couldn't bear to stay.

His mind tried to rationalize with him, Scott wouldn't do that, it said, and Nom knew Scott wouldn't, but what if? You both made a promise, it said, and Nom knew it was true, knew he should have faith and trust, but how can he when every faith he's had has been broken, over and over?

Scott cleared his throat, straightening his back slightly as if to make himself more confident.

"…I just wanted to—" Scott sighed, and Nom's heart sank, preparing himself for the worst— "I wanted to apologize."

Huh?

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I feel like, maybe that was a bit too far."

Nom blinked. "What?"

"You know, with," Scott vaguely gestured between them, his face growing redder, "this. I didn't even ask you, and— I'm sorry, Nom, if I went too far."

"Oh." Nom stared, not sure how to answer. "…Thank you?"

Scott snickered, slightly nervous and slightly amused. "You're welcome."

"You didn't— I wasn't uncomfortable, or anything. Not in a bad way, at least."

"Okay, good. That's a relief." Scott paused, releasing a breath, before furrowing his brow. "Are there really good ways to be uncomfortable, though?"

Nom laughed. "I mean, I'm sure there must be someone who's had a good uncomfortable moment in all the millions of years earth has existed."

"You know, you make a good point."

"Mhm, mhm, exactly." Nom nodded.

Scott huffed slightly, some of his tension thankfully gone from his shoulders. An awkward pause hung in the air, Nom suddenly hyper aware of what his hands were doing, where he focused his eyes, how loud his breathing was. They were still sitting close to each other, and Nom could clearly see the still worried look in Scott's averted eyes. After some time, he locked gaze with Nom, his cheeks slowly growing a faint blush.

"What about you?" Scott's voice was barely audible, hesitant as feelings Nom couldn't quite place filled his tone. "Was it a good uncomfortable for you? Or just, I don't know."

Nom felt his eyes widen, not prepared and certainly not certain on a answer. Nom opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and closed it, a thousand conflicting sentences running through his mind. Yes, no, It was amazing, I never want to experience it again, I want you to do it to me forever, I want to leave, I want to hold you close, I want to kiss you till you can't breathe, I'm so scared, I want to forget everything but you, please don't leave.

Nom didn't say anything of it, paralyzed. Instead, he stayed quiet, prayed Scott could find the answer in his eyes. Silence stretched between them as Nom struggled for a answer, seconds feeling like minutes as the tension threatened to choke him.

Eventually, Scott sighed in a disappointed tone, a slight tint of guilt present. "You don't have to answer, sorry, that was a weird question," Scott made his way off the bed slowly, "I'll follow you home, Nom. It's pretty late."

Nom jerked up, alarmed as he watched Scott hop off the bed, fixing the wrinkles on his clothes with a slight tremble to his hands. Nom gulped, brain going on overdrive as he felt the comfort, familiarity, sweet smell of flowers and patient smiles slowly disappear. Nom didn't want Scott to leave — he really didn't want Scott to leave. To leave him with only his thoughts as company, to feel them taunting him in his dreams and when he wakes up in the morning.

Before Nom had noticed it, he'd reached out.

"Scott, wait." Scott turned around in surprise, gaze flicking to Nom's hand currently in a strong grip with his, stopping him from moving. He tilted his head in a wordless question.

"You haven't taken out the flowers from the crown yet."

* .^~—~^ .*

Around fifteen minutes had passed, of awkward silence and occasional clumsy small talk, ending quickly. The tension was high in the room, suffocating, and Nom wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Scott was more careful with his touches, less brushes to his face, no beautiful hummed melody, as he squinted his eyes with his head leaned less forward than before, as if there was some sort of invisible wall between them. As if he believed Nom didn't want him closer, as if Nom didn't crave it desperately.

It was Nom's fault, of course, the decision to keep his mouth shut and not let any embarrassing thought slip through the cracks leading them to their current predicament. Nom felt guilt swim to the surface as he swallowed.

They were in the same position as before, when Scott braided the flowers in, and Nom found it was considerably harder to be this near Scott when the awkwardness threatened to kill him. Nom wanted to run, flee from the uncomfortable situation, leave the memory in a cranny in his memory and never remember it again.

Even breathing felt wrong, too loud and clumsy yet still not quiet enough, and Nom was well aware of his eyes which darted from corner to corner, never once landing on a single spot. Gods, he hated this.

Nom had to use every ounce of self control to stay seated, to face the conflict head on, because he knew he had to. Even if it would kill him, he had to. Nom had promised. He'd promised Scott to be honest, to not hide anything, to be truthful even if it was terrifying, and Nom wasn't about to break that. Throughout all the oaths and promises he had broken, discarded on the ground or burnt at the stake, he wouldn't break this one.

Nom wouldn't run.

"…It was," Nom mumbled, his voice a lot more controlled than he thought it would be, as he felt his heart speed up anxiously.

Scott stilled. "What?"

Nom swallowed, his eyes stubbornly fixated on the ground as he forced the words out. "The neck thing. It—" Nom fumbled with his words, "It was a good uncomfortable."

Silence stretched between them, and Nom could swear his heart was beating loud enough for the whole world to hear it. He was vaguely aware of his tight grip on the sheets, Scott's hands slowly making their way away from the crown on his head and the fact that Scott still hadn't released his breath.

"Oh," Scott paused, his voice shaky and relieved, a slight chuckle present "that's good. Yeah, uhm. Okay." Nom watched as blush slowly formed around Scott's cheeks, and his eyes darted around nervously. "Did you— did you like it?" Scott gulped. "Or was it, like, I don't know, uhm—"

—"I did," Nom interrupted, feeling himself grow a bit more confident as he watched Scott's cheeks flush even harder. "I didn't want you to stop."

Scott let out a surprised, incredulous giggle. "You didn't want me to stop… leaning over your neck?"

"Yeah," Nom nodded, "you smell nice, and I don't think my heart has beaten so fast in my entire life, except maybe on the battlefield. It was exhilarating." Nom felt determination form in his chest, as he admired the pink turn to red and spread to Scott's ears and neck, his eyes widening the more Nom rambled. A part of him wanted to see how much redder Scott could turn, how much redder he could turn him.

"I didn't want you to leave," Nom continued, "or stop whispering in my air, or stop flirting— whatever it was that you were doing. I don't actually know. I just wanted to stay in the moment, with you, and—" Nom groaned— "the moonlight, or something, hell if I know. I just,

"I wanted— I wanted you."

Scott stared at him, face beet red and mouth agape as Nom finished speaking, breath slightly winded. Scott looked as if Nom just told him he'd bring down the moon if he asked, burn the earth if he wanted him too, and Nom knew he would. If Scott wanted the moon, or the earth or the countless stars in the sky, Nom would get it for him with no hesitation.

He forced himself to meet Scott's eyes, despite the flush now gradually coloring his face, his stomach churning with anxiety as he inhaled. A part of Nom felt afraid that he'd messed it up, that it hadn't been the right moment or that he'd misread the signs. The other, smaller part was scared that he hadn't. That Scott would accept every shameful but true word he'd spoken, hold him tight and kiss him senseless, and that Nom would be truly, hopelessly doomed.

It felt as if hours passed as he waited for an answer, the world suddenly too quiet and the plants stilling as if they too held their breath. Nom prepared himself for the worst, for rejection, disgust, humiliation, fear—

"You're really hot to me right now," Scott breathed.

Oh.

"Th— thank you?"

Scott's eyes widened, his mouth clamping shut with a jolt as if he suddenly registered what he said. "I did not mean to say that out loud. Oh my god." Scott groaned, clearing his throat and chuckling nervously, to Nom's amusement.

"I mean hey," Nom snorted, feeling himself swimming in relief and bliss, "I'm not complaining!"

"Of course you aren't," Scott retorted, rolling his eyes with an embarrassed smile on his face.

Nom watched Scott's eyes flick to his lips one, two, three times, before he sighed dramatically and his shoulders slumped. "I think you know what I want to ask."

Nom smiled, feeling giddy all over as he barely stopped himself from leaning closer. "Yeah."

"Well, what's the verdict?"

Nom paused, let his eyes wander from Scott's slightly messier blonde hair, the white lilies seemingly shining like never before and his eyes which held such intense emotions Nom could almost drown in them, wanted to drown in them. He let his eyes flicker to Scott's lips, tugged into a bewitching smile, and felt his heart throb in his chest as he wondered how they'd feel on his own.

Would Scott be gentle when he kissed, soft and patient like his whole being was? Would he be rougher, harsher, like when he scolds Nom after an impulsive fight? Would Scott be dangerous, confident, nipping on Nom's lip teasingly as he took control, like he did on the battlefield? His head swarmed with thoughts, some more or less shameful.

"I wanna hear you say it," Nom answered after a beat, a grin clearly heard in his voice.

Scott raised a unimpressed brow. "Really?"

"Really." Nom smirked, finding delight at the teasing. Scott rolled his eyes, the red on his cheeks growing undoubtedly redder as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

"I, Scott Springwell from Barrowhill," Scott started, "would formally like to request a hot make out session with Nominal, the monarch of the Blue Kingdom." Scott bowed his upper body dramatically, locking eyes with Nom. "That good enough?"

"Ehhh," Nom tilted his head from side to side, "could use a bit of revision…"

"Oh, shut up." Scott leaned forward, flicking Nom on the forehead slightly as Nom cackled, the tension and awkwardness long gone, and replaced by the familiar comfort that always found it's way to them. Scott towered over him slightly as Nom looked up, watching the moonlight frame his silhouette in a ethereal matter as the laughter faded, replaced by a new sort of tension, a comfortable, slightly exhilarating one.

In all honesty, Nom wasn't quite sure why someone like Scott would spare him a single glance, much less be attracted to him. Nom wasn't new to romance, growing up as one of the more popular kids, he'd gotten people confessing to him and watched his friends date and then break up, hook up and then ghost each other. Nom hadn't ever truly joined any of it, though.

He'd had crushes, sure, and he'd hooked up once or twice, but never anything like this. Never anything quite like Scott. Back then, people were only attracted to his knighthood. To the image he'd crafted of himself as a strong, capable warrior, handsome and social with not a single crack or fault. He didn't break down in front of people, instead being the one they went to for a shoulder to cry on, forever a reliable pillar. It was only in front of Graecie, that he'd ever let his persona fade.

Nom knew it was the same for Scott. He knew someone as good as Scott could never truly be interested in someone as faulty as him. After all, he didn't deserve the light that Scott was, the kindness he radiated, the trust he gave. No one as good as that Nom would ever deserve. No one as good as that, the universe wouldn't let him deserve.

Yet, as Nom slowly, hesitantly placed a hand on Scott's waist, tugged him slightly towards him, and watched him inhale a small, almost unnoticed breath in response, his eyes darting from his waist to Nom, only a few inches below him, Nom found he really couldn't care less.

Nom leaned in, slightly, feeling his pulse quicken rapidly and his stomach twirl, and Scott's eyes grew wide in realization, before smiling, inching closer until Nom could feel his breath on his face and the smell of flowers surrounding his senses.

"Is that a yes?" Scott whispered, word thick with feelings that swarmed the same in Nom's heart, the words tickling his ear and turning his thoughts to goo.

Please. I need you.

Nom felt his breath hitch, his mouth suddenly too dry yet drooling the same, and his brain almost mash enough to not recognize the question, far too preoccupied with Scott's scent, and his hair which tickled Nom's face, and his dreamy and wobbly smile, his face so close to Nom's, close enough to hear every slight inhale and exhale Scott made. He let his gaze land on Scott's soft lips, parted slightly and oh so welcoming.

"Yes," he breathed, so quiet Nom feared Scott didn't hear it.

But then, before he knew it, Nom felt Scott's lips on his own, a body to his and a hand to his hair, and it was as if reality shattered and was reborn — suddenly the longing gazes in the kingdom meetings, the slight touches when training together, the subtle compliments under the night sky, all made complete and perfect sense.

Suddenly the world wasn't spinning without him in it, the clock wasn't turning backwards, the ground wasn't breaking a hole just for him. Suddenly he wasn't a warrior in a battlefield or a sword to someone's throat — suddenly he was somewhat, partially, human. Nom felt his desire overtake him, his want bleed him dry and his ribcage open, for Scott to enter, for Scott to take his mind and body and heart and soul and do with it what he pleased.

Time stilled, and Nom wished he had words to explain the feelings that enraptured in his chest, so loud and overwhelming he was certain he'd never feel anything like it ever again. He ached as soft, gentle lips touched his in slow but deliberate motions, delicate like a flower and slightly inexperienced, the taste sweet like nectar. He felt the lean, warm body to his, holding him tight by the waist as if he was an anchor, as if he was needed and wanted and desired, a pillar in a storm you'd lose yourself in without him. His stomach twirled in all kinds of ways as he bewildered at the hand in his hair which held his head steady, kind and comfortable but with a strong grip, one Nom found a small shameful part of him almost wished Scott would tug, drag a sound out of him, send a spike of pain in his scalp, if only to break him out of his lovesick daze.

Goosebumps filled his body as his brain melted, his heart so loud in his chest Nom could barely register anything else, limbs on fire and most definitely dispersing to gas. As the intoxicating feeling settled in his mind, he found that right then and there, Nom wouldn't mind devoting his entire being to it. To Scott. He felt drunk, dazed with desire and greed and something like desperateness.

Who knew a simple kiss could feel like this? Like the universe made itself solely for this moment, like all the wounds and hurt was worth it because he made it here, to this place in this time with this body.

If Nom could choose, he'd stay in this moment forever, every touch electrifying, every shudder elating, every noise bewildering as he became more and more captivated by every slight movement Scott made. It was addicting. Every detail made him more and more certain that whatever this was, whatever feeling swarmed in his chest, he would never, could never, get enough.

But then Scott pulled away briefly, seemingly gasping for air, and Nom felt alarm bells go off all around him, yelling at him to not lose the warmth and thrill of this, whatever 'this' was, feeling the loss of Scott's warmth and realizing with horror he wasn't sure he'd ever want to live without it. Not now that he knew. Now that he knew that Scott tasted like cake and spring and the fresh winter breeze, and now that he knew how his hands felt when gripping Nom's hair, how they'd grip a little harder and pull him a bit closer whenever he did something right, pushed on the right place.

Without thinking, Nom was suddenly surging forward with force, catching Scott's lips and putting his left hand behind his head, protecting Scott when he landed with a thud on the mattress, a small noise of surprise muffled by the kiss. Nom wasn't sure what he was doing, but whatever it was Scott relaxed into it quickly, taking the lead.

Nom was vaguely aware of their almost scandalous position, as he was laying on top of Scott, one of his knees in between Scott's legs for balance, holding himself up with his arm, and of the gradual subconscious movement of his right hand, slowly pinning Scott's own to the mattress and intertwining their fingers.

If he wasn't drowning in the intoxicating taste of Scott, maybe he'd feel embarrassed of the needy, almost pliant whimper he let out as Scott deepened the kiss, his tongue finding his way into Nom's mouth with ease, exploring the space as Nom did nothing but let him, wanted nothing but let him, to show every nook and cranny of his awful, dreadful self, and for Scott to kiss him anyway, want him anyway.

Maybe if he was more conscious, he'd feel bashful as he laid on top of Scott, his guard so shamefully low as he followed his every demand, complied as if it was his second nature. Maybe, he'd feel sheepish of the fact that his shaky limbs threatened to break down as Scott moved his mouth slightly, gently kissing his cheek and then his jaw and then a single innocent one to his neck, teasing with his breath as Nom let out a flustered sniggle, feeling much like the fool as he waited — knowing it was nothing more, nothing less than a simple kiss, yet feeling heat rise to his body in quick motions.

Maybe he would have felt ashamed as he took a mental note of every reaction Scott made in reply to Nom's, how he almost shuddered, tensing in on himself as he massaged his scalp, finding faint amusement as Scott kicked him in the knee after Nom nibbled his lip slightly, as if to say 'don't you dare.'

But more than anything, he knew he would have been absolutely appalled of the desperate, pathetic want which ran throughout him from head to toe, present in his every motion and movement, whispering more and more and more. More of the aroma of freshly picked flowers, more of the thin golden strands of hair laid beautifully on the mattress, more of the warm body next to his and the adventurous, kind emerald eyes.

It was somehow too much at once and yet not nearly enough at the same time, his mind contradicting itself in panic as it slowly became more muddied, thoughts gradually melting into themselves, disappearing as something he could almost dare call love ran through him.

He'd heard of this — the overwhelming kind of love, the one teenagers get when growing up, so love struck and innocent, foolishly adoring their partner. Nom had never felt a love like that before, and in honesty, he had believed it to be a prank at first, an exaggeration to make stories more enjoyable. The concept that a lover could make you feel so much, desire so much that you can't even think straight, had simply sounded impossible to him. To want to give up your life, let down your guard till you're a puppy with your belly up, for anyone who isn't of family, of sibling or parent or child — it must surely be a jest.

But Nom understood it now, as he felt his body throb and his mind melt in temptation. He understood it perfectly. In the end, all that Nom knew was that he needed more. He knew that he would never get enough.

Nom made a nose of protest as he got tugged away by a grip on his hair, eyes opening in surprise and mourning the comforting feeling of dreamy lips to his, replaced by the cold harsh air. He firmly and desperately ignored the shameful spike of elation as the pain registered from his scalp, and instead gazed down at the culprit with a pout, panting slightly.

Scott laid beneath him, heaving heavily as his face was flushed in a beautiful pink color, slightly disoriented and disheveled as he tried to control his breathing. He looked all kinds of messy, dazed and with his mouth slightly agape, and Nom felt almost breathless at the sight. A small feeling akin to pride bloomed in his stomach, oozing into his very being as he realized that it was his doing. Scott was panting and sloppy and the complete opposite of the calm, mature Scott Nom was so used to, because of him, because of Nominal of the Blue Kingdom.

As selfish as it was, Nom secretly prayed that no one else had seen that side of Scott but him.

"Air," Scott replied eventually between breaths, a silent explanation to the tug and parting as he let his hand go from Nom's hair.

"Right, air." Nom nodded awkwardly, suddenly aware of his own heavy breaths and tight lungs. Closing his eyes, Nom let his own heart cool down and his mind stop racing, slowly feeling his thoughts materialize as he came to some terrifying conclusions.

1. Holy shit, he just kissed Scott Springwell.

2. Holy shit X2, Scott Springwell just kissed him back.

3. It was fucking amazing.

4. He was so unbelievably cooked.

5. He felt really sweaty.

Nom grimaced, these thoughts really didn't give any substance except redden his face. Nom preferred when his thoughts weren't running through his mind, or more specifically, when a certain someone was instead. Opening his eyes, Nom was met with a amused smirk from the person in question.

"What?" Nom raised a clueless brow.

Scott giggled. "Nothing, you're just really obvious."

"Yeah, I've been told that," Nom agreed with a chuckle, gazing down at Scott.

He felt his heart swell at the sight, the desire to keep Scott all for himself a bit too high for comfort, the fond smile Scott gave certainly not helping. Slowly, Nom traced Scott's features with his left hand, from his nose to his soft cheeks, marveling at the soft skin he had.

Nom let his hand go to Scott's jawline, running a thumb along the hard edge as if he could memorize it with touch, while Scott gazed at him with curiosity. Gently, Nom moved his thumb to Scott's lip, pressing lightly, feeling his heart skip a beat as Scott's breath hitched slightly. Scott huffed, amused.

"What?" Nom glared at him.

"You're really obvious, Nom."

"Nuh uh."

"We're not doing that," Scott stated with decisiveness. Nom laughed, loud and cheerful as Scott stared at him with feigned exasperation. "By the way, next time I part for air, don't kiss me back. I could barely breathe, bud."

"Whoops," Nom scratched his neck sheepishly, "my bad." Scott gave him an unimpressed look, and Nom was sure he felt giddy all over as the meaning of next time slowly sank in. Next time. Nom was quite certain his grin had never once left his face after they kissed, and he was half convinced it never would.

"You're lucky I like you," Scott muttered, and Nom could do nothing but agree, for truly, he was. Gods, was he lucky. Nom wasn't sure anyone could ever be more lucky than him, to be able to relish in Scott's radiance, to have the blessing of his attention and care and affection, to get to kiss him and hear his beautiful laughter.

To get to hold him, talk with him, cuddle and jest like it is their second nature. To get to see the view of Scott below him, at complete relaxation despite the obvious advantage Nom had — despite knowing Nom could kill him swiftly within a single minute, could end Scott's life before he even realized it, but having trust that he wouldn't. Having trust in Nom.

Nom really wasn't sure what to do with that.

"By the way," Scott drawled, staring up at him with a raised brow, "are you going to stop pinning me down soon?"

"Shit—" Nom flushed, jolting quickly as he rose to a sitting position— "I'm so sorry man, I wasn't thinking— well, I kinda was— but, uh." Scott burst out in laughter, rising slowly as he shook his head.

"You don't have to be so nervous, you know. I never said I didn't like it."

Nom pouted. "Well if you liked it, why'd you want me to stop?"

Scott shrugged, flicking Nom's forehead. "Maybe I simply wanted to sit up."

"Fair enough."

Nom chuckled, feeling warm all over at the jest like bickering, that Nom could almost convince himself was domestic. He watched as Scott slowly started stretching, one arm after another, and Nom found with terror that Scott could do quite literally anything and Nom's heart would skip a beat. He prayed, to whatever god would still listen to him, that he'd get a grip of himself someday. That when Scott's shirt revealed a small tiny section of Scott's waist, skin sticking out like a sore thumb for a mere second, it wouldn't short circuit Nom's brain or make him avert his eyes faster than lightning.

Deep in his mind, in a small corner, Nom found himself wondering what Scott had thought, what thoughts went through his head. Was he too panicking on the inside, enamored by every breath Nom took, playing the kiss in his head on replay, or had the moment already passed him by, as if it was just an everyday thing and nothing important to fuss over?

What emotions swirled in Scott's gut when they'd kissed, when Nom bit his lip, when Scott explored his mouth? Was it giddiness? Adoration? Arousal? When Nom had pushed him on the bed, did Scott's heart skip a beat, did his mind short circuit in surprise, did it bring some sort of enjoyment or excitement to him? Did Nom bring some sort of pleasure to him?

Did it bring the same, terrifying, word to his mind? Did his heart scream, with longing and devotion and passion, as it came to one awful conclusion?

Did he too think, as he felt Nom's lips to his, that 'this must be love?'

Nom bit his tongue, trying to force stop his thoughts as curiosity overwhelmed him, tugged on his mind like a persistent woodpecker. Nom wanted to know, desperately, but in no universe would he ever ask, not before shame overcame him and embarrassment turned his limbs to goo. He wasn't sure he would survive the answer, anyway.

Scott yawned beside him as he puffed out his chest, stretching his back. Nom took a glance outside, at the moon which still shone high with all the bountiful stars in the sky. No wonder Scott yawned, it's really late. "Tired?" Nom asked with a chuckle.

"A bit." Scott muttered. He rubbed his eyes slightly. "Who knew kissing was such a exhausting activity?"

Nom snorted. "You got tired from kissing?"

"You didn't?"

"Nope. If anything, I feel less tired. It feels like I can take on the world."

Scott hummed, turning his head to Nom with a smile. "Seems you not only stole my heart, but my energy too, then."

Nom's eyes widened. "I stole your heart?"

"Well, yeah," Scott lifted a brow in amusement, "that's why I kissed you, bud. You thought I did it for fun?"

"Well, technically, it would still be classified as 'fun'—"

—"Oh please, you know what I mean." Scott rolled his eyes, leaning closer with a huff. "Seriously though, why did you think I did it?"

"I don't— I don't know?" Nom admitted, "I didn't really think of it, I just kinda, went with it, I guess."

"You just went with it?"

"Hey, don't sound so judgemental! It's just, I…" Nom fumbled with his words, letting out a nervous chuckle, "it's hard to believe that you, well, like me, or whatever. Enough to kiss me at least. I'm not— I'm not used to that."

"Well, I do," Scott said with certainty. "I like you a lot, Nom. I think you'd be surprised."

Nom stared at him, felt his thought conflict themselves in a tangled mess, as a strong feeling of curiosity overwhelmed him. "Try me."

Scott raised a brow. He sat up straight, stretching his hands as if he were preparing for battle before chuckling. "If you say so. Here we go.

"First off all, I think I've had a crush on you ever since we first met. I'm not really that experienced in the romance section, so I didn't fully understand it back then, and honestly? I still don't. My mind is constantly swarmed by you, which can be pretty annoying at times, like when I'm trying to sleep or focus on a task, and you make me feel so, so many things."

"…Like what?" Nom mumbled hesitantly, as he felt his heart race the more he listened, every word etching itself into his heart. Scott gazed at him.

"Love, lust, trust, comfort, joy, infatuation, exasperation, worry, affection, devotion… the list goes on, I don't think I can name them all," Scott shook his head, mumbling, "you've got no idea what you do to me, Nom."

Nom felt his heart skip a bit, flush finding its way to his face.

"When we kissed," Scott continued, "it felt like my world expanded, like every puzzle piece I've tried to piece together suddenly clicked into place. There was fire, but it was the comfortable kind, and every movement you made—" Scott stopped himself, face slightly pink— "it doesn't matter! Important thing is, you're unfortunately a lot hotter than my heart can handle, which I guess is both a plus and a minus."

Nom cleared his throat, feeling his heart beat loudly in his chest as thousands of emotions swarmed his gut. "Not sure if it is one, but I'll take that as a compliment," he said, swallowing, "uhm, you too?"

Scott snorted. "You make it sound like a question."

"Well— cut me some slack!"

Scott giggled, rolling his eyes affectionately. "In all honesty, I'm a bit scared. Of my emotions, I mean. They feel so huge, that I'm not sure what to do with them. But, then again," Scott took a breath, "they're all feelings that I have for you, and I trust you, so I can't say that I'm that worried."

Nom was really starting to regret saying 'try me.' He felt himself slowly sink into a flustered mess.

Scott smiled, his eyes shining with that same heartfelt faith that makes Nom's knees feel wobbly. "I trust you won't hurt me, and, I hope you can trust that I won't either."

Nom stared at him, speechless, and Scott snickered as he observed him. "Want me to continue, or?"

Nom made a noise of complaint, feeling his face heat up.

"What's that?" Scott teased.

"…No, it's okay."

"Sorry, can't hear you! You want me to continue?"

Nom sent a flustered glare in his direction, feeling his eye twitch. "No."

"Oh, you want me to go into detail?" Scott smiled, "Well let's see, my heart most definitely did flips when you put your hand in my hair, and I felt all kinds of emotions as you pinned me to the bed. Oh, and let's not forget the whimper you—"

Alright, that's it.

Nom surged forward, catching Scott's lips in his and interrupting the sentence firmly, as Scott let out a surprised giggle, falling back on the bed again. This time, though, Scott took hold of Nom's arms, clasping them together as he tackled Nom to the side, pinning him to the bed instead with his arms over his head, promptly sitting down on Nom's stomach. "If we're doing this again, I want to be on top."

Nom sputtered, flushed cheeks and mouth agape, before scrunching up his face, displeased. "You know I'm a lot stronger than you, right? I can easily overpower you."

"Yeah, but you won't."

"Oh, and why's that?"

Scott smiled. "Because I don't want you to."

Nom glared in dismay, holding eye contact as Scott gazed back in amusement, tilting his head. After what felt like minutes, Nom let out a loud sigh, surrendering.

"God, I hate that you're right."

Scott laughed, lively and delighted, and Nom felt a thug on his heart as his own laughter bubbled up in his throat, the world seemingly growing a bit brighter, a bit more colorful — as if Scott was the sun, the light that protected him from the shadows, that let him see red not as blood but as love, blue not as sorrow but as the great wide sea, green not as envy but as the stems on the most beautiful of flowers.

Nom must have shown something on his expression, some sort of longing, for as their laughter faded, and Scott gazed back at him, he smiled fondly, eyes crinkled, as he leaned down slightly till their faces were mere inches away. "Can I?" Scott whispered, with a flick from his eyes to Nom's mouth.

Nom nodded, speechless, and felt a wave of giddiness envelop him as he once again felt Scott's lips on his own, his heart beating loud in his chest as the taste of sweet flowers and spring refound itself on his tongue.

This one was faster, a simple quick peck, to Nom's small disappointment. Even so, as Nom felt Scott's hands pinning his own, the smile on Scott's lips and undoubtedly his own, the blonde locks which tickled his face, and the light giggle to his mouth, muffled by the kiss, Nom was certain he must have died and gone to heaven, however his entry to heaven happened.

Scott pulled away with a laugh, shaking his head with amusement and beautifully pink cheeks as Nom made a noise of complaint, his grin so wide he wouldn't be surprised if it fell off his face. The sight of Scott's warm, angelic face on top of him would surely imprint itself in his memory forever, haunt him whenever his heartbeat wasn't fast enough for the simple fact that he had kissed Scott Springwell.

Scott leaned in again, this time to plant a kiss to Nom's forehead, before tilting to the left and falling down with a thud besides Nom, the bed creaking slightly at the movement. Before Nom could question it, Scott had sneaked a hand on his waist, the other going behind his neck and to his hair, gently tucking his head under Scott's chin. Nom chuckled.

"What are you doing?"

"Cuddling," Scott stated plainly, as he pulled Nom slightly closer by the waist, and adjusted his own position by sinking slightly down in the bed. Scott yawned slightly as Nom felt his body relax to his. "I don't know about you, but personally I'm tired."

"You know what, that's fair." Nom snorted as he let his tense muscles relax, letting his own arm go around Scott's waist and laying his head to Scott's chest. The quiet but constant pulse felt a bit like a lullaby, entrancing and soothing as Nom let it fill his body, felt his limbs go a bit slack as a wave of sleepiness hit him.

The coziness muddled his brain as Nom slowly started feeling drowsy, the comfort he felt such an unfamiliar sensation he couldn't help but drown in it, relish every last piece he can get before it's gone. He had no idea the smell of flowers could be that hypnotic, make his eyes suddenly feel so hard to keep open, his mind so tired and slow he barely recognized what Scott said.

"Thank you, Nom," Scott whispered, his tone so warm and welcoming and so full of emotions, Nom felt the last part of his nervous thoughts disappear. Nuzzling closer into Scott's neck, trying to avoid hitting him with the crown, he let out a long breath of relief, of safety and of content.

Nom knew this wouldn't last forever, that this was comfort he wasn't meant to have, kisses he didn't deserve, cuddles not meant for a soul made up of violence — but right now, as the flowers seemed to smile at them and time seemed to slow, he had it. Right now, Scott was here, and like the sun at dawn, clearing out all shadows, Nom's thoughts too became a bit kinder to him, a bit quieter.

"Thank you too, Scott," he mumbled in a slightly muffled voice, a type of earnest he didn't know he still had in him, as the world was tuned out and the steady beat of Scott's heart lulled him in.

Nom didn't notice he'd fallen asleep, that he'd fallen into a dreamless slumber, one without distractions and vivid nightmares, until he woke up as the sun shone down on them, the flowers opening up in bloom as he was greeted by the slumbering face of Scott. His blonde hair laid beautifully on the mattress, and some of his flowers had fallen off his hair and onto the bed.

Nom stayed, for god knows how long, relishing in the comfort of a good nights sleep, the kind he hadn't experienced in months, and the weird, unfamiliar feeling of safety that buried itself into his heart. Nom couldn't help but gaze a bit in infatuation, as Scott laid in front of him, his face calm and relaxed, till he opened his eyes and Nom's heart swelled, too enamored and lovesick with everything that made Scott, Scott.

It wasn't until Scott had given him a drowsy good morning kiss on his cheek, and they'd dragged themselves off bed begrudgingly, made breakfast and then said their goodbyes as they started their duties, that Nom realized there were still a few dandelions in his crown. Mae had giggled, pointing them out with a twinkle in her eye, as if she somehow knew what had happened. Nom had simply sighed, cursing as he realized he'd once again have to walk around with flowers in his crown, much like that damned day on his coronation.

The thought of blue mixed in the sand, belongings splattered all around him, the shaking of his muscles and panted breath, still tormented him — haunting like an ever present shadow. He knew it would never truly go away, the guilt and fury there to stay till the end. But, somehow, he found it was a bit easier to breathe, a bit easier to walk with his shackles, a bit easier to do his duties and to smile and laugh.

Although he had thought it impossible, it felt like his heart had stitched itself up slightly, with stems from beautiful white lilies, and his world had shone a small, tiny bit brighter. And sometimes, when in the comfort of him, of his one good thing, of everything truthful that radiated from him, of every laughter and smile and fond gaze, Nom could almost feel like a person, a thing worthy of good.

In the presence of Scott, Nom could almost let himself be vulnerable, let himself be attached, be in love. Nom could almost let the veil of comfort envelop him, clean the blood from his soul, carry the souls of the damned. He could almost trust Scott to wield him with care, use him for something good, take care of the spikes on his head and the grip wrapped in leather, to sharpen his edge and plant a kiss to his tip.

Nom could almost, almost be human.