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The process of working towards something big can feel very different than the moment where it actually arrives.
Logically, Nott knows this. Knows that she wants - needs - her halfling body back, knows that she could never really, truly feel at home in this goblin body that just isn’t her.
But then there is an afternoon spent in a wizard’s tower. And then, suddenly, she is being swept up onto Caleb’s shoulders (just like the old days), and in the blink of an eye Essek is offering up the dirt from his yard as a spell component and Caleb says that if she would like, he could perform the spell right here, right now, and Nott’s head is buzzing with excitement, and yet -
And yet -
And yet -
It’s not that she doesn’t want this. The want, the desire for this exact moment has not left her head in nearly two years, brought out every time Nott looks down at her own thin, scarred hands, or catches a glimpse of her face in a mirror (too green, and the facial features all wrong), or feels the skittering of a heart beating much too rapidly in her chest.
It’s not that she doesn’t want this, but -
She is Nott, and she is not Veth. Veth had a husband and son; she had a home and an apothecary. Veth’s world was scarcely larger than the borders of Felderwin.
But Nott. Nott has travelled across the continent, fought gnolls and clockwork robots and demonic cultists. Nott has marched right into the heart of enemy territory and made a home out of it. Nott has stolen from right under the nose of an ancient white dragon and lived to tell the tale.
And in some ways, beyond the obvious physical differences, beyond the dysphoria and the adrenaline-fueled fear that seems to dominate her life now…well, in some ways Nott is different. Her every emotion is sharper somehow, felt more keenly, driven to further and further extremes - recklessness, addiction, terror.
Love.
Unlike Veth did, Nott has the Mighty Nein. And she loves them.
She loves them far more than she loves herself, far more than she has ever loved herself; this is no secret. But she has only ever known them all, only ever loved them, as Nott.
She’s contemplated leaving before; that, too, is not a secret. But how could she go back to being a housewife? How could she return to a quiet life in a small town, knowing now all that is out there in the world?
(How could she go back to a life of safety and domesticity, knowing that her friends would still be running off into one deadly situation after another, even less protected than before?)
The terrifying thought creeps back into her head - Nott is the Mighty Nein’s protector. Will Veth even care nearly as much?
(We will get you what you want, even if there is some risk, because if it is important it is worth the risk, Caleb told her once, months ago. Maybe this is the risk. Maybe it is a chance worth taking, a die worth rolling.)
“I love you all,” she says, voice wavering, eyes prickling slightly with tears, “Let’s do this.”
And then Caleb is kneeling in front of her, speaking to her, as warmly and as reassuringly as ever, although the slight tremble in his hand as he reaches to touch her forehead does not escape her notice.
And, just in case it might be her last chance, she leans forward and kisses him, softly. She feels him gasp quietly, but he does not pull away.
(It might be her last chance to kiss him, but she hopes, so desperately, that it’s not the last time she wants to.)
“Thank you,” she says. “You’re a good man,” she says, and “I hope you get where you’re going, too.”
There is more she could say, there is always more. But the words are sticking in her throat already, and really, what words could ever be enough?
(She hopes he understands.)
(She thinks he does.)
She takes one last look at the Mighty Nein, at her friends, at her family, gathered around her with solemn expressions and hints of tears in their eyes.
No matter what happens, she will not be alone, of this she is sure.
Nott leans back to lie down in the trough of cold, wet, clay, and closes her eyes.