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Caleb was uselessly in love with Jester Lavorre.
At first he had denied it. He had tried to pretend that he simply found her endearing. After all, who didn’t? Then he tried to tell himself it was a crush, because he had been too weak against her charms. If he were a better man, a stronger man, then he never would’ve fallen in love with her. When he had this realization, it was not a happy one, but rather another scar added to his person. This one he would not, he assumed, ever reveal to Jester.
Falling in love with Jester had never been in his plans.
Bren could never have fallen in love with Jester. He had been too focused on arcane goals and immersed—oblivious—within the world of the Cerberus Assembly. The man who had escaped from the Sanatorium, the hobo wizard who broke out of jail with a goblin, could never have fallen in love with Jester. He was desperate only for survival and his plans began and ended with conning people for a few copper.
Caleb Widogast, a stinky wizard with a best friend in Nott the Brave, should not have been capable of falling in love with Jester Lavorre. He was weighed down by the sins of his past and the knowledge that burning Trent Ikithon and everything he stood for to the ground would still not be enough to atone him. That is what he had believed for a long, long time.
But things had changed. Caleb had changed.
Slowly, the way water shapes and reforms stone, cutting through it to form canyons miles long with depths dizzying to behold, Caleb made himself into a new person. There is no single event he could point to that helped push him along. It was the sting of Beauregard punching him in the shoulder, grinning at him. It was the rich, deep taste of Caduceus’ tea and the calm it would bring. It was hearing the change in Fjord’s voice and seeing the growth of his tusks, no longer trying to hide who he was. It was Yasha’s eyes, which had been so haunted like his own, clearing up to shine with hope and love once more. It was hugging Veth for the first time—the thousandth time—in the body they had both worked so hard to return to her.
The Mighty Nein, each in their own special way, had a hand in shaping Caleb into the man he has become. And Jester, oh Jester. She was the moon, reflecting all the light in the universe into the darkness, and so had the water responded to her gravity, pushing and pulling with the tides. He did not change for her, but because of her. She changes people, he watches her do it every day.
And eventually, perhaps inevitably, Caleb found that he was ready to tell her. It was later, and way past time to do so. There was nothing to hold him back now. He’d told her the truth about how his parents died and she’d taken the revelation with all the grace and care that only Jester could. She’d seen the worst he had to offer and still wanted to be his friend.
“Jester,” he says to her. He allows himself to take in the sight of her, really drink her in, as she turns to look at him. Eyes bright and wide, her curls windswept and framing her cheeks, the bells on her horns jingling lightly with each step she takes as the group makes their way through town. He feels no guilt, he feels no shame or self-hatred as the thought “she’s beautiful” passes through his mind. In fact, he welcomes it, basks in it, enjoying the way it settles into his heart and spreads warmth throughout his chest.
“Yes, Caleb?” She’s smiling at him, and he can return it without pain in his eyes or a grimace on his mouth. He smiles at her because he loves her, and she deserves to know.
He reaches out and brushes his hand over her cheek, his fingers threading themselves in her hair. He runs his hand through the curls, and as they bounce back into place, her bells ringing again, he hears her gasp. She is blushing now, her eyes darting quickly between his, something like hope contained within them. It makes him happy, more than he ever thought possible, to know that he will not let her down.
“Jester,” he says again, indulging the both of them with the way his lips caress the sound, “I am in love with you, Jester.”
He looks her in the eye as the words are said. This is an important moment, one he will never forget, but he’s almost surprised with how easy it feels, how natural and right it is to tell Jester he loves her.
So he tells her again. “I love you, Jester.”
And again. “I love you.”
They have stopped walking and are now standing in the middle of the street. People make their way around them, the sound of their conversations distant and far, the trod of horse hooves clicking against the cobblestone, the smell of fresh baked goods wafting through the air. It is a Da'leysen morning, on a day of no particular significance, one like any other—except for the fact that Caleb Widogast has now shared his love with Jester Lavorre, and he is waiting to see what she will say in response.
“Oh,” is the first word out of her mouth, followed by, “Oh, Caleb.” Her hand comes up to grasp his, holding it to her cheek. she leans into it, turning her face so that her lips meet his palm and place a kiss in the center.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Jester. I have for a long time, and my only apology is that it’s taken me this long to tell you.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “This is exactly when you were meant to say it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She takes a step closer to him, her head, still cradled in his palm, cranes to look up at him. “Now you must say it every day.”
“Gladly,” he murmurs, his eyes moving down to her lips. “Always.”
She stands on her toes, he bends down to meet her, and they kiss.
“And Caleb,” she breathes out after they’ve parted, still holding onto his hand.
“Yes?”
“I-” she pauses, thinks, and then a smile curls onto her lips. He waits for her to finish.
“I’ll tell you later,” she chirps, and it is then that she releases his hand and skips off to join the others, her laughter filling the air.
Caleb stares after her and chuckles. He is happy to wait as long as she needs.
She’s worth it.