Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Essek discovers that Jester either texts in all capitals, or completely ignores them. There’s no inbetween. He also discovers that there are 238 notifications in the Mighty Nein group chat that he had recently been added to in much pomp and circumstance that he still didn’t really understand. When he finally gets out of the Marble Tomes Conservatory, a stack of folders and books tucked under his arm, it’s late. It’s much later than he had planned on staying, but he finally felt a key part of his research unlock and had gotten distracted. 

Flicking open the lock screen, Essek navigates to the chat icon and clicks.

He doesn’t bother reading more than the first few, knowing that anything beyond that was pointless, the Nein’s rapid-fire change of context hard to keep up with. Instead, he thumbs over to the other message thread, a smile catching on his face at the icon.

What is tradition in his den?

Tradition is ceremony and protocol, rigid rituals with expectations and presentation. It’s appearing united by family, by culture, by lifetimes, even if it's hollow and empty at its core. Stiff backs, terse words, frowns.

Have you remembered? Are your memories of more than this lifetime? Are they more than you?

He shakes his head, banishing the memory and looks back down at his phone.

His birthday hasn’t been acknowledged in years, and his consecution… he tries not to think about it. Sighing, he flicks back to the main message thread and responds.

It takes a moment to realise that the name accompanying his message isn’t actually his name, and he has to roll his eyes when he realises. Jester. It could have only been Jester. She refuses to tell him how the nicknames work, and he hasn’t had time to research how to change it back.

The cupboards of his small apartment are woefully bare, having gone weeks now without shopping and he knows he doesn’t actually have any chocolate. But it is easy enough to swing past the 24-hour convenience store to pick some up on his way home from the Conservatory, grabbing a few varieties along with a bottle of whisky, those odd seaweed crackers he likes, and a candle in the shape of a nine.

He hopes they will appreciate his small attempt at levity.

***

He’s lying on his back on the far-too-comfortable couch in his living room, an assortment of books and notes on the table in front of him. Technically speaking, he’s on a break from his research paper, but if he’s being honest, that break has gone on for an hour now and he’s pages deep into the social media of some d-list celebrity from Tal’dorei exposed to have ties to the Golden Grin. He’s not invested. He could close the tab at any time, he just doesn’t want to.

He snaps a quick picture of his coffee table, and sends it before he can think better of it.

Attached is a picture of what Essek assumes is Caleb’s desk, a laptop open with a pile of textbooks next to it, and an orange cat curled up on the keyboard.

There’s a crack against his head and it takes a moment before Essek realises that it was his own phone dropped on his face. He sits up, rubbing at his forehead with a groan, glad again that he lives alone. No one should bear witness to his shame. 

It takes a moment to locate his phone from where it bounced to the ground, and he needs a further moment to steady his breathing before he is able to respond.

Questions from Caleb are never unwanted. He isn’t sure when that became a fact, but it may have been somewhere between study sessions that helped clarify the direction of his research when he wasn’t sure where to go next and being eased into dinners with new friends over wine and cheese. Questions to help ground, to encourage talk, to share. He wanted to share. It was a new sensation.

That, and the pattern. Each Den had their own, built up over years of tradition and complex competition. Rust and saffron for Kryn. Azure and teal for Thelyss. Ochre and chamomile for Mirimm. Each developing their own pattern and weaves that tell a story. You can read history in the threads if you know how to.

It’s still draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs, where he had discarded it the moment he walked in his door last night. Standing, Essek walks over to it now, running his hand down the soft fabric, the geometric shapes and lines weaving them together. It is beautiful. He can objectively see that, even if all he wants to do is burn it and forget he has it.

He can’t though. Not… not when it still matters.

Chapter Text

The next one is decidedly less unexpected, but is still a surprise. He does get more warning this time, which is nice. 

The message is the type of abruptness he has come to expect from Veth. He’s still unsure of exactly where he stands with the halfling and her husband. It’s been uncomfortable, ever since it had been discovered that Essek’s research had inevitably led to Yeza’s temporary unemployment. Even if Essek had done all he could to correct it when he realised.

Anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach again, his constant companion for the last few weeks.

***

The Dim’s Inn is loud and rambunctious when Essek arrives, hesitating for a moment in the doorway, unable to see any of his friends in the main room. He’s on time, of course. He definitely didn’t hover outside the entrance for ten minutes to make sure he entered precisely at 7pm. 

Essek shakes his head, putting his phone away and waiting, tucking himself out of the entryway and into an alcove from which he could observe the street and keep an eye on the room. Having made his presence known to the proprietor of the establishment so to keep their reservation, he has nothing to do but wait for them all to arrive.

As predicted, he hears them long before he can actually see them. He exchanges greetings with all of them, returns Jester’s enthusiastic hug, and compliments Veth’s attire. It’s slowly got easier, across the last few months, this socialising and conversation thing. Though it is still not his favourite activity to attend big group celebrations in public, he is slowly learning to enjoy it. To enjoy the company and closeness of a group of people he can admit to caring for, in each their own ways.

***

Looking up from his phone, he sees Caleb watching him from the opposite end of the long table they have taken over. There’s an encouraging smile on his face, and a look of genuine interest, even as he turns to Jester and answers an inquiry.

He can’t help the laugh that escapes from him at that, and he immediately flushes. The arrival of his food saves him from explaining the unexpected laugh to Yeza next to him, a confused expression on his face. It’s a simple fare, but tasty. He’s been aware of this particular establishment for a while, but rarely had a reason to visit, being in the Gallimaufry district and entirely not his usual stomping ground.

The ringing laugh from across the table in response causes Essek to smile in turn, a weirdly satisfied feeling settling in his stomach. He feels lighter, now that he’s aware of what Caleb is doing, and is thankful.

A tap, and he opens a blank webpage, a quick search pulling up some links of the basic theory of Dynasty thread weaving. It’s rudimentary, intended for tourists interested in visiting their museums, but he feels Caleb would get something from it.

He’s staring at his phone, a soft smile on his face as he considers how best to answer, when the other thread pings with a notification. The little bubble next to it shows one new message received, though a second and third quickly follow.

The phrase is typed half by habit, and it takes a moment for him to realise exactly what he has said. He looks up to see half the table staring at him with open mouths and various levels of astonishment. He raises one eyebrow in response and is rewarded with various amounts of screaming and laughing from them.

It feels good, this teasing. That he might be, slowly, getting okay at it.

He glances back down.

And promptly proceeds to choke on the drink he just took a mouthful of.

***

He doesn’t expect Caleb to reply. It is late, though not as late as they have often conversed, but he knows Caleb has the 8am class tomorrow and he will be up hours before it to prepare. Not that he needs it, Caleb is always brilliant.

It’s soothing in a way, to share his thoughts with no expectation of a response.

He’s surprised when his phone lights up in response.

Chapter Text

By the time they make it to Caduceus’ birthday, Essek starts to get the feeling there's a running theme of involving him in each of their celebrations. Mostly spurred on by Jester and Caleb if his suspicions are correct. Whatever the motivation, he is glad and touched each time the offer is extended.

***

Essek shakes his head fondly when he reads the messages a few hours later. Caleb was indeed correct, and most messages are muted when he needs to focus. It breaks the temptation he has to check his phone every few minutes, if he knows the only messages he will get notifications for come from Caleb. And that’s because he might need help with a research pattern, not for any other reason at all.

He figures they can sort that one out themselves without his help.

***

The Arbor Exemplar is located on its own in the middle of a region called the Barbed Fields. Not exactly his pick of locations for a picnic, but there is something about it that does suit Caduceus. Caduceus has barely taken a step out of Veth’s car before smiling and walking up to lay a hand on the tree in welcome. The others follow, each in their own state of awe, taking in the sight of the tree. 

He does suppose it is quite stunning, if you’re seeing it for the first time. It has been decades since he has been out here and has had a reason to detour on the road to Bazzoxan. He sees Caleb turn for a moment and smile at him.

Pulling out his phone, Essek composes a quick message as he collects a picnic basket and a blanket from the trunk.

“Essek!”

A voice startles him from where he had paused next to his car, staring at the ‘no reception’ notice on his phone. Jester bounds up in a yellow summer dress, a straw hat on her head, and something tucked under her arm.

“Here, this is for you!”

She holds out what he works out to be the parasol she mentioned a few days earlier. It’s pink, trimmed with lace, and Essek loves it immediately. He had come armed with his own sunglasses and hat, fully prepared to be uncomfortable for the few hours they were here, assuming incorrectly that Jester wasn’t serious about the offer of shade.

“Jester, thank you. It is much appreciated.”

He takes it without hesitation, opening it and heading to follow her to where the others decided to set up the picnic spot. Handing off the blanket and basket to Veth, he steps up next to Caduceus.

“It is said that this tree grew from the seed of the Wildmother, granted to bring hope and peace to lands ravaged by war. It is also said that it is a sister-tree to one in Vasselheim, though I have never seen it. It’s meant to be very beautiful,” says Essek softly, taking the moment to pull out a wrapped parcel and holding it out for Caduceus to take. “This covers it, and I have a clipping from this tree for you back in Rosohna, if you would like? Every den has one, it’s… a piece of home that can travel where needed.”

“Mr Thelyss—”

“Please, it’s Essek.”

“Essek, then. Thank you for this. Oh, how fascinating.” 

Caduceus claps him on the shoulder, shaking Essek’s knees for a moment as he stumbles slightly. Not that he would say anything, he’s just pleased that the gift seems to be appreciated.

Smiling softly, Essek turns away. He knows it’s pointless, knows Caleb won't receive it until they head back to the city, but he can’t help it. It’s become a habit that he doesn’t want to break, this silent connection they have even when around everyone else.

There’s a shout from his left, and he looks up to see Jester and Beauregard tearing off in opposite directions to… run around the tree?

He steps up next to Caleb, tucking his free hand into his jacket pocket.

“Is this a thing they do often?”

“What, unnecessary shows of physical strength?” asks Caleb, glancing at Essek briefly. “ Ja. Surprisingly, it’s a fairly common occurrence.”

“Mmm, I see,” Essek murmurs, though nothing could be further from the truth. Apparently, it isn’t enough to convince Caleb who chuckles next to him.

“We take bets sometimes. See who is going to win, makes it a little more interesting,” says Fjord, joining them in their observation.

“Are you betting on this one?”

“Don’t tell Jes, but Beau will win.”

“Who do you have money on to win, Caleb?” Essek asks, taking a moment to squint at the sky, blinking through the pain of the sunlight and calculating the winds.

“Jester.”

“Mmm.”

He feels Caleb turn to look at him, feels the weight of those piercing blue eyes and just smirks in response. He pulls out his phone and makes a show of typing a message before putting it away again, still not looking at Caleb.

“Have something to say, Thelyss?” There’s a challenge thick in Caleb’s voice, a playful edge that causes Essek’s pulse to jump slightly.

“I have an advantage. I have been here before.”

“Care to share with the class then?”

Essek turns slightly towards Caleb, cocking his head and leaning forwards, inviting Caleb to lean closer.

“What favour will you do for me if I do, hm?”

Caleb leans in closer, ducking slightly to not hit the parasol Essek is still holding above him, and grins.

“What would be of worth to you?”

Essek looks away – half to calm his increasingly beating heart, half to give himself time to think – and dusts an invisible speck of dust from his jacket.

“Oh, for the love of—” Fjord huffs, glaring between, throwing his hands up and turning away. “I had to suffer through this with Beau and Yasha, not you two as well.”

Essek jumps at the interruption, having entirely forgotten that Fjord was present, and blushes. Coughing deliberately, Essek takes a step away and beats a quick retreat, a feeling of relief washes over him when he spots Yasha in the distance.

The outburst of Caleb’s laughter behind him causes him to smile anyway.

***

Partway into their drive back to Rosohna, Essek feels his phone vibrate with the notification of multiple messages. He hears the rest of the Nein’s various message tones go off, and realises that they have made it back into reception. He doesn’t get a chance to check them until after the Nein have all been dropped off, with a promise for Essek to visit soon with Caduceus’ plant.

The final message isn’t a message at all, but a picture. Essek, sitting between Jester and Caleb as he draws in Jester’s open sketchbook. He’s smiling. It takes him aback for a moment, the open enjoyment on his face and the look of fondness on Caleb’s as he looks at Essek and not the sketch on the page.

It’s been a long while since he could remember a photo he liked himself in. He saves it, before responding.

Chapter Text

The private message from Jester pops up as he is heading into his lunch break, her timing is, as always, uncanny for when he will have the ability to reply.

Essek pauses in the typing of the message. They are strict, but he is owed a favour or two from his supervisor and if there was ever a time to use it, then he supposes Jester’s birthday is as good a time as any.

***

It turns out, Essek can pull quite a few strings when he needs to. The bonus—he suspects—of being the leading theorist into dunamis effects in modern experimental physics, and a prodigy at that. In exchange for some promised hours of presentations and teaching commitments, he’s been granted approval for three days of leave.

Essek stops for a moment, staring at his phone with his keys halfway turned in his apartment doorway. I could go with you. Something catches in his chest as his heart skips a beat, like the inkling of a realisation he shoves away as he finishes twisting his keys and hears the click of the lock. 

Caleb offering to go with him when… he knows Ikithon will be there. Essek is still staring at the message as he steps through the doorway and closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment. He doesn’t want Caleb anywhere near Ikithon. Not now that he knows about what happened, the accident at the Blumenthal facility, what Caleb lost at the hands of a man he worked with years ago. 

He stares again at the message, at the offering that Caleb gives as if it is easy, as if making sure Essek is okay is worth more than his own discomfort. It’s a unique feeling, to be thought of in that way.

***

The first inkling of Essek realising he probably should have asked more questions about this ‘low key affair’ is when the mysterious ‘Artie’ turns out to be the sole operator of the cult-like social media brand The Traveler, showing up with a private jet to fly them all to Nicodranas for the weekend. 

“It’s all in the name of chaos, darling, and when Jester called, how could I resist?”

Essek blinks at this frankly taller than necessary elf decked out in an all-green suit with a mass of red curly hair. He turns to look at Caleb with one eyebrow raised, just to receive a shrug and a just-go-with-it face in response.

He feels his phone vibrate with a notification, and pulls it out.

The second inkling of realisation that he may be underprepared is on arrival into Nicodranas as they head to their accommodation in the heart of the Opal Archways district. Essek has been to Nicodranas before, and is keen to go back to that one museum again, but he had little reason to stray beyond the grounds of the University last time he was here. It turns out that their accommodation just happens to be the Lavish Chateau, the leading hotel with world-renowned fame run by one Marion Lavorre. It’s near impossible to get a reservation at the boutique property, and as they pull in to be greeted by a red tiefling that Jester immediately launches herself at, Essek realises.

Marion Lavorre.

Jester Lavorre.

Jester is the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea.

Essek has no more time to panic before Jester is bounding over to him and tugging him forward.

“Mama, this is Essek, he does some fancy research at the Marble Tomes in Rosohna and he’s Caleb’s not-boyfriend and my friend, I had to bring him along so you could meet him!”

Swallowing past the fresh wave of anxiety at ‘not-boyfriend’—they are taking it slow in their changing of relationship status—Essek does his best to not squint into the sun behind Marion, tucking his hand over his heart and bowing slightly in a formal greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet the mother of Jester,” he murmurs, falling back into years of ingrained social policy of the Dynasty. “May the starlight guide you and bless the lineage of the House through its threads and weaves.” It’s rusty, and it’s been a while since he’s translated the Undercommon blessing into Common, but he thinks he gets it right.

He straightens up, self-conscious now as he's aware of the rest of the Nein’s attention on him and coughs, holding out a hand to shake like he should have done in the first place.

“Oh, please, it’s just Marion with friends.”

Before he can protest, Marion has stepped forward and swept him up in a hug. He tenses for a moment, before relaxing into it, returning it by carefully wrapping his arms around her. She smells faintly of cinnamon and honeydew, a scent he catches at times from Jester. It’s welcoming, and homely, and he just wants to sink into the feeling.

He thinks he understands Jester a bit more now.

***

Halfway through the next message, there’s a knock at his door. Opening it, Essek is unsurprised to find Caleb standing there, dressed in charcoal grey trousers, a wine red button down shirt, and brown leather suspenders. His unruly red hair has been tied back into a bun, and there’s a smile on his face. It’s a good look on him, and Essek drinks in the sight of him.

He definitely didn’t pack anything fancy enough to match Caleb.

“I had wondered where you had vanished off to while we were all by the pool. I almost thought you had gone to that museum without me.”

It takes a moment for Essek to think enough to step back and let Caleb into the room, waiting for him to pass before closing the door behind him.

“No, I wouldn’t go without you.”

Essek tosses his phone down onto the bed, not needing it now that Caleb is in the room with him. He resumes his pacing as Caleb picks his way across the room and perches on the end of the bed. His small suitcase is open on the floor, the numerous clothing items he had packed lined up next to it so he could see them all. It’s a few minutes of silence, interrupted only by the sound of Essek’s footsteps before Caleb speaks again, voice soft as it breaks into Essek’s thoughts.

“Schatz, come here.”

Glancing up he sees Caleb’s concerned face. He hesitates a moment, and Caleb reaches a hand out towards him, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

Stepping over the open suitcase, Essek takes Caleb’s hand, letting Caleb tug him down to sit on the bed next to him. Caleb immediately threads their fingers together, bringing a hand up to place a kiss on the back of Essek’s hand.

The tension in Essek’s shoulders eases at the contact, as he squeezes Caleb’s hand in response, sighing as he lets out a breath.

“Tell me about that greeting from yesterday, when you met Marion. It sounded formal.”

“Yıldız ışığı size rehberlik etsin ve Evin soyunu ipliklerinden ve örgülerinden kutsasın,” he murmurs, the phrase falling off his tongue easily in the original Undercommon. “It’s a formal greeting of sorts, when you would meet an Umavi at their Den. A blessing for their continued growth through this lifetime and the next, that their children will be blessed with the same long life and continued improvement.” He knows them all, the different greetings to give depending on the formality of the connection. They are shadows of the original form, but the intent is the same. “I know it was odd, but it just… I didn’t have a gift of cloth so the blessing had to do.”

“Similar to what you gave Veth?”

“Yes and no. Veth’s was specific, a recording of her family. If it was a new Den being accepted, or a new connection you haven’t made before, the crest and colours could be an acceptable token, a sort of welcome and acknowledgement.” He pauses, trying to recall the relevant info and explain it to Caleb. “In the traditional sense, it would be a… courting or joining of the two houses, even though it’s political and all about alliances. There are actual courting traditions, though those can be far more complex and layered.”

“Why do you research experimental physics, when you have a passion for this?”

“If I hadn't studied dunamis, I wouldn’t have met you,” he says frankly, glancing across at Caleb with a smile. “This also doesn’t pay as well, and I am, unfortunately, not as wealthy as I once was,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s just a hobby, these days.”

He realises what Caleb’s done, by asking him these questions. He’s distracted, his thoughts calm for the first time in hours, and he’s settled. The thumb brushing soothing circles across the back of his hand has been grounding him, anchoring him here, and he can’t help the spike of guilt that he’s taken up more time than he should have, when Caleb could have been getting ready himself.

“I’m sorry,” says Essek into the quiet of the room.

“Whatever for?”

“You’re all here to have fun and celebrate. I’ve been an… an anxious mess since we’ve arrived and that can’t be enjoyable for you.”

“It’s a lot of new places and people for you, it’s okay to be anxious. You are someone I care about and if I can help center you, I don’t mind.” Caleb squeezes his hand again, not letting go. “What is it under all that, though? I’ve seen you be fine in other places where you haven’t been like this.”

He tenses for a moment, before deliberately taking a breath and relaxing again.

“It’s… been a long time since I’ve been invited to meet anyone’s family, and been introduced as a friend. I don’t… enjoy conversing with people I don’t know, about myself. I’m out of practice.”

“That’s okay, we were all out of practice until we weren’t. You start small, and over time it becomes easier. It’s one dinner, with our friends, and then tomorrow we can go to that museum and relax. Focus on that, and it will be easier.”

“I still don’t have anything to wear.”

Caleb laughs, turning to Essek for a moment before standing. He looks up at Caleb, into those eyes he is getting to know as well as his own, and smiles softly, still surprised every time he causes laugh lines to crease Caleb’s face. Caleb raises his free hand to cup Essek’s cheek and leans down, pressing a soft, quick kiss to Essek’s lips. 

His pulse jumps slightly—he doesn’t think it will ever get used to the idea of kissing Caleb—as he kisses back briefly, relieved that Caleb is here with him still, even if they haven’t completely defined what they are to each other.

“Come on, we’ll find something.”

He lets himself be pulled to his feet and walks with Caleb back to the open suitcase, only letting go when Caleb hands him a few of the items and shoes him into the bathroom to change.

***

Essek smiles at the messages, curled into one of the chairs on the balcony attached to his room, weary but happy. The warm air of the Nicodranas coastline is soothing as the lights of the twinkling city dim and go out, the darkness familiar and revealing in its own way. He can see why Jester loves this place, why the rest of the Nein enjoy it with her, how they all came alive in the night air as the party shifted from the dining room to the rooftop bar. 

The colour-shifting ink he gave Jester seemed to be appreciated. He chuckles in fondness as he remembers the look of glee on her face as she realised what it was. He will have to warn Caleb not to leave any precious books lying around if he doesn't want a dick drawn in the margin. It’s nice to have these friends, he thinks. 

Chapter Text

A hacking cough tears through him, causing Essek to drop his phone and curl up in pain. It’s a full minute until he can breathe again and he sinks back into the pile of pillows, retrieving his phone from the scrunched up blankets.

He tosses his phone down again, using all his energy to lean over and reach the glass of water on his side table. It’s shaking as he picks it up, his other hand quickly joining it to support. This sickness has gone around the Conservatory, and despite his best efforts, he somehow managed to catch it.

The timing is most unfortunate, Essek having genuinely been looking forward to Beauregard’s celebration, not to mention the deadlines fast approaching on his research. He’s done as much as he can from bed, but focus is hard to come by, and he’s spent most of the last three days in bed alternating between television shows or reading Jester’s copy of Tusk Love that had been part of the care package delivered by Caleb yesterday. Caleb had warned him not to expect a quality narrative, but it turned out to be oddly compelling if a little unrealistic.

He’s just going to close his eyes for a moment, and then he will get up to eat something.

***

An unexpected buzzing from under his cheek jerks him from a fitful sleep a while later, and he groans. As a drow, he rarely sleeps, and the few times he does, he finds it unpleasant to wake with no conscious memory of time passing. The television is still on in the background, but considering it is playing an all-day marathon, it doesn’t give him much to go off.

A second buzz follows shortly after, and he realises that he had managed to fall asleep on top of his phone. Scrubbing at his face and blinking, he digs it out from under him and squints at the message on screen.

It’s an innocent message, one that shouldn’t make his heart leap unexpectedly, and yet it does. It might be that he suspects if he said he wasn’t, Caleb would drop everything to come over and do what he can to help. He had already spent more than enough time at Essek’s apartment in the previous few days, and despite the fact that Essek would love the comfort, he also wouldn’t forgive himself for dragging Caleb away from his family.

The one time he had tried to move, he made it halfway to the kitchen before he had to sit down, and it took another half hour to find the energy to stand again. Even now, he’s struggling to concentrate on the conversation, his throat hurting every time he takes a sip of water. He’s feeling right sorry for himself while trying desperately to not let on to anyone else just how terrible he feels.

***

Essek manages to nap for a few more hours before he wakes again, coughing as he sits up and squints into the bright lights of the television that is still playing in the background. He groans in pain, before reaching out for his glass of water. Swallowing, he picks up his phone again.

Essek chuckles at the attached image of Caleb and Veth dressed up in what he assumes is part of the laser tag gear, back to back with their guns pointed towards the camera. He backtracks to an earlier message, puzzled over one of the activities, and flicks a question to Caleb.

Huh. Thinking about it, he can see the appeal. Swiping through the rest of his notifications, he does indeed have a message from Beauregard. He taps the window open, shifting up against the headboard and reading.

Essek blushes, rolling his eyes again and needing a moment before he responds. 

He imagines the yell and eyeroll that would have earned him in person, and smiles.

***

He must have fallen asleep again without meaning to, as this time he is woken by the jangling of keys and the tell-tale click as his front door is pushed closed, swiftly followed by the sound of something hitting his kitchen counter and the tap being turned on. He’s groggy, barely with it, and struggling through the disconcerting feeling of sleeping to work out who it may be.

Shifting, he swings his legs out from under the covers and stumbles his way to the bedroom door, hand wrapping around the umbrella he keeps there, though what he expects to do with it if there is an intruder he has no idea. Bracing one arm against the wall to keep himself upright, Essek rounds the corner and stops dead.

Caleb is in his kitchen, bent over in front of his microwave with the dull yellow light illuminating the fiery strands of his hair that have escaped from its tie. There’s a slight smell of herbs and broth, and Essek just stands there as Caleb closes the microwave and sets it, turning back to the sink and switching the tap off. 

Essek’s heart is beating entirely too quickly.

Caleb is in his kitchen.

It’s a sight that makes him take in a too quick and shallow breath at how right that is, and before he can contemplate what that even means he’s coughing again, dropping the umbrella and bending over to brace himself from falling over.

He distantly hears a bang followed by Caleb swearing, before there is a warm hand on his back and it’s rubbing soothing circles across his thin pyjamas.

It takes a full minute for him to get his coughing under control, and it takes all his energy to not just collapse onto Caleb. As it is, he leans forward, head coming to thunk against Caleb’s chest.

“Hello,” he croaks. It’s the first word he’s spoken out loud in a day and it shows.

“Shh, don’t speak, that will just make it worse,” he hears from above him, and it’s a soothing rumble against his forehead. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. What were you even doing with an umbrella?”

His cheeks heat in embarrassment as he gives a half-hearted shrug. “Heard someone, didn’t realise it was you. I haven’t given you a key.”

“You’re not the only one who knows illegal things, liebling.”

“The umbrella was to protect me from illegal things.”

Caleb snorts, bending to press a kiss against Essek’s head. 

“I was very scared and I’m sure you could have taken me. Though if you did, you would have missed out on soup.”

Essek is about to say he isn’t hungry, but his stomach betrays him by choosing that moment to make itself known. Chuckling, Caleb moves to wrap an arm around Essek’s waist and encourages Essek to lean his weight on him.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed and I’ll bring you some.”

It’s a slow process, but Caleb does manage to get Essek tucked back into bed, slipping out of the room with a promise to be back in a moment. When he returns, he is accompanied by that delicious scent of broth, herbs, and what Essek thinks is chicken.

Caleb sits on the edge of the bed, one foot resting on the ledge that runs around Essek’s bed, the other up on the covers, a steaming bowl cradled in his hands with a spoon. Essek tugs a free pillow over onto his lap, Caleb understanding, places the bowl onto the makeshift table and hands over the spoon.

It smells delicious, and Essek’s stomach rumbles again.

“Chicken noodle. It’s what meine Mutter would make when we were ill. I think it should be bland enough for your stomach, I’m sorry if it’s—”

“No, no, it’s wonderful. It’s…” he says, cutting Caleb off before pausing, cheeks heating for a moment as he debates his next words before deciding to say it anyway. “Soup is my favourite food. I don’t… I don’t have it often but it's always enjoyable. It’s one of the few things I am able to cook with success.”

“Huh, I wouldn't have picked that.”

He takes a few, slow and careful mouthfuls, enjoying the quiet comfort of Caleb’s company before responding.

“Mm, simple, hearty flavours. It’s not… the Umavi wouldn’t often request it as part of the dinner service. If she did, it would be something heavy and rich. Simple flavours… it’s still a recent discovery.”

“Well, hopefully this one goes some way to helping as a pick-me-up. It came recommended.”

“Oh? Where did you even get soup at… whatever time this is?”

“Eleven thirteen,” says Caleb automatically. “Caduceus knows a guy and we’ve learned to stop questioning it.”

Essek smiles, before taking another few slow spoonfuls. “Please pass on my compliments to them. This is quite delicious.”

“It smells good. I got hungry on the walk over here, you’re lucky it survived.”

“Have some.” He holds the spoon and bowl out towards Caleb, hand trembling involuntarily with the weight of the bowl. “I doubt I will finish it.”

Caleb takes it carefully, making sure to get both noodles and broth on the spoon, and swallows. He hands the bowl back, guiding Essek as he rests it back down again.

“Mmm, it is tasty. Will have to remember that.”

Conversation is brief, Essek not being able to contribute much, and soon it’s becoming harder to concentrate on the bowl of soup in front of him and more appealing to lean his head back and close his eyes. He blinks them open as he feels Caleb take the bowl from him and place it on the bedside table. 

Caleb stands, shrugging out of his coat and toeing off his shoes, placing them on the chair in the corner. He joins Essek in bed, propping himself up on a pillow, patting the space next to him as Essek shuffles over. He closes his eyes, sighing as Caleb drops a hand to his head lightly and begins to stroke his fingers through the short strands.

“Tell me a story?” he murmurs, half asleep but not wanting Caleb to leave.

“I don’t have anything with me, and I doubt you have anything simple enough here for me to read.”

“Bitte?” The Zemnian falls from his tongue purposefully, knowing that Caleb can’t resist when he decides to speak the few phrases he knows.

With a long-suffering but fond sigh, Caleb leans forward and kisses Essek’s forehead, hand coming to cup his cheek before moving up to stroke through his hair. It’s quiet for a moment before Caleb begins to speak.

“Once upon a time in a little house on the edge of a great wide wood lived a young boy with his mother. The poor boy was sick and spent much of his days in bed watching the days pass by from a little window in his room. The boy's mother loved him very much… ”

***

He is warm when he wakes next, the stillness outside the dark window decreeing that it is still early. There’s an arm around his waist, and a hand curled against his chest. His own hands are a dark purple contrast to the pale, freckled ones in his grasp. There’s a warm body pressed against his back, a slow drift of breath across his exposed neck and ear. It’s pleasant, in a way waking often isn’t, and it’s peaceful. He’s breathing easier than he was yesterday, and he’s not naive enough to believe it’s purely because of Caleb, but he’s willing to put logic aside and pretend that it is.

Essek shifts carefully, trying not to disturb Caleb as he stretches a leg out slowly to bring feeling back to it. Caleb’s arm tightens around him for a moment, before he murmurs indistinctly in Zemnian and relaxes, face pressed in against Essek’s neck.

He could get used to this, he thinks.

That tight feeling that has nothing to do with his illness is back, that feeling that he doesn’t name but knows is very close to what he thinks is love. It threatens to overwhelm him, here in the darkness, how much he wants this to be his normal. How much he might have to lose if he admits to what it is. 

He’s never wanted quite as much as he has here, and it scares him, if he thinks about it.

So he doesn’t think about it. He puts it aside, closes his eyes, and just enjoys the sensation of being held for as long as Caleb will hold him.

Chapter Text

It goes perfectly, weeks of building happiness, of changed habits, of adapting to a new routine that involves friends and Caleb. It goes so perfectly that Essek forgets to hold his breath, forgets to be cautious and wary, and guarded. He forgets that there was ever a time he wasn’t checking over his shoulder at every step for someone to be there casting a shadow.

It goes perfectly, until one day it doesn’t.

Essek stops in the middle of the laboratory, phone in hand and anxiety bordering on panic settling in his stomach. He blinks, mind whirling through the dates and events he’s ignored for the last year, trying to work out which one is the closest that this could be related to. He’s still standing there as Caleb shoulders open the door and backs into the room, a mug of coffee held in each hand.

“I’ve had a thought about—”

He cuts off abruptly, catching sight of Essek who is still staring at his phone.

Essek is distantly aware of Caleb moving to place down the mugs, the sound of them hitting the counter reaching him as if through water or a thick fog, of a hand grasping his shoulder in concern.

“Essek, liebling, what’s wrong?” asks Caleb, and Essek looks up, seeing the look of concern and care.

“I—” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. He tries again, swallowing around the lump that has formed in his throat, to explain, but he can’t. 

Instead, he wordlessly enables the translate function on his phone and hands it over, the message still open with a version below in Common.

Caleb takes a moment to read through it, before placing the phone down on the counter and turning back to Essek. Caleb’s quiet, giving Essek the space he needs to try and corral his thoughts into something that makes sense. Essek turns away from him and closes his eyes, pressing a thumb into the middle of his forehead.

He turns back, hand dropping away as he sighs.

“I have gone six months without having a message from my mother… and I forgot what it’s like, the games she likes to play,” he starts, voice soft and cracking, the words not any easier to say. “She’s not… her intentions aren’t bad, there’s so much she is balancing and doing… I- I mean, she’s the head of the Den. Her life is one of politics, of… carefully constructed position and power of hundreds of years. I used to be a lot more like her.”

Caleb merely nods from where he is resting against the countertop, the sleeves of his knitted jumper pushed up past his elbows revealing his freckled and scarred forearms.

The sight is comforting, in its own way. When Caleb revealed the source of the scars, what happened in the accident, the people who caused it, Essek was there to catch his hands as he scratched at them. He appreciates this reminder that Caleb is here for him in the same way.

“Everything has a dual purpose, even if on the outside it seems that it doesn’t. You are not reborn for centuries, stepping along the path of being a… a perfect soul without becoming ruthless for what you think will satisfy that goal.” He’s not meeting Caleb’s gaze, instead picking at the skin around his fingernails, a nervous tick that he can’t help but default to. “I was the first new soul born to the Den in… centuries. Born specifically to the Umavi—”

He breaks off, swallowing.

“She tried. But when Verin was born a decade later, also a new soul… she retreated. We were both failures, in her eyes. Though she was happy enough to accept me once I showed promise in the research field, was happy to- to parade me around when my first research paper was published that changed the course of dunamis studies.”

He falls quiet, not sure how to continue. He hesitates, before taking the three steps it takes to reach Caleb and leans against the countertop next to him. Hesitates again, before leaning into Caleb, his head falling sideways into Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb doesn’t hesitate in shifting, wrapping an arm around Essek and pulling him in tight.

“Does she do this often?” asks Caleb, voice just as soft.

“Demand that I drop everything to visit her?” He pauses momentarily, feeling Caleb’s nod. “Not as much as she used to. I… set some boundaries a while back. Roughly the time we first met, though it wasn’t related to your arrival. She didn’t appreciate that and I lost some of my… my den funding that was supporting me through my research. She didn’t take all of it away, it would reflect poorly on the den if she did. But she made a point.”

“Appearances are important.”

“Yes,” he replies simply. “To her they are. I am getting… better at not valuing them as much, but…” He shrugs, somehow hoping that it will convey the storm of emotions he gets every time he has to stop himself from doing something for appearances’ sake.

“Mm. Those habits can be hard to unlearn.”

“I’m… afraid that I will fall back into them as soon as I see her.”

“You don’t have to go alo—"

“No,” he interjects sharply, before Caleb can finish. Before he can be selfless again, offering without knowing the cost.

He hears Caleb’s teeth clack together as he closes his mouth, feels him tense beside him.

“It’s not—” he starts, before groaning and turning to Caleb, hand reaching out to Caleb’s chest to keep him in place. “I didn’t mean it like that, just… you don’t know what she is like. How she can… make anything she deems a problem vanish. I can’t… I can’t have you in that situation, as a-a— piece on her chessboard. She will know exactly how valuable you are and how much you mean to me. I can’t have that.” He stops, breathing deeply, afraid to look up at Caleb, afraid of rejection. “I can’t have that,” he repeats softer, imploring, trying to get Caleb to understand.

He can’t look at Caleb.

His hand is shaking where it rests on Caleb’s chest, and it’s taking all of his control to not bunch it in the fabric there to steady it. To hold on. There’s a long moment, then Caleb’s hand is covering his, and there are fingers that press gently under his chin, urging him to look up.

“Essek.”

Raising his head, he meets Caleb’s gaze, blue eyes swirling with a depth of kindness and care that he doesn’t deserve. The hand holding his own squeezes.

It’s in that moment that he resolves that he will do whatever he can to protect this man before him. This man who has utterly changed him and left him better than he was before. 

He leans up and captures Caleb’s lips in a proper kiss.

They have a strict ‘no-kissing’ policy in the laboratory – there’s far too many ways that could go wrong with the equipment around – but Essek needs this. He needs to feel Caleb, needs to somehow convey what he can’t with words, just how much he loves him. Caleb groans under him and pulls Essek forward so that he can wrap an arm around his waist and tug him closer, nipping at his lip and deepening the kiss.

It’s a moment stolen in time that belongs to the two of them.

It’s a goodbye, though Caleb doesn’t know it yet.

He never wants it to end.

***

Essek barks out a laugh, sitting in the dark of what was once his room at the Lucid Bastion. The room is how he left it, the same chaise longue lounge for trancing, the bookshelves mostly full, stacks of notebooks and textbooks on the desk. All of it had been covered in silver cloth, to protect against the dust as if he would one day return. The only piece he had uncovered had been the armchair before the glass window. He’s there now, shoes off and feet tucked into the side of it, as he stares out into the night for a moment before looking back at his phone.

The echo of her voice through his memory chills him even now.

Your social circles have changed recently, Shadowhand. It seems you have shunned the company of your fellow colleagues for a group of Empire-aligned charity members pretending to be tourists. I am hearing that you are… involved with a human. Should I be concerned about your loyalties to the Dynasty and this Den?

Oh, how much willpower it had taken to not snap back and reveal just how much his heart had been racing at the implications of what she might do if she knew how right she was. He’s been on edge ever since, running through just how much she could have worked out, every outing in public where he was seen with the Mighty Nein, every time Caleb joined him in the Conservatory library or his research lab.

His heart is still racing, anxiety making it difficult to concentrate and think through what her next move might be. Attending her next political function is the start, something he can pretend is a strategic move on his part to understand just how much the impact will be. He feels hot and cold at the same time, the fabric of his intricate tunic tight around his neck and suffocating. He can’t stand it.

Before he realises, he’s dropped his phone and gotten to his feet, fingers fumbling on the ties at the front, desperately pulling to untie them. It takes a few goes, his breath becoming more and more panicked before he gets it off and he’s tearing it from his shoulders. He balls it up, and throws it, not even aiming at anything. It unfurls as it goes, a mess of gold and white fabric that splats against the side of the covered longue, crumpling against the floor.

Essek is panting, breath coming in short, painful gasps, and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the sight of the fabric, shimmering in the moonlight from the window. Can’t stand what it represents. It’s not him and he hates who he is when he wears it. 

It reminds him of another garment, half constructed and tucked away in a space in his cupboard at home. The opposite in many ways, in rich crimson fabric with silver and black thread detailing across the front of it. The thought makes his heart constrict in a different way, at what he hoped to convey when he gifted it, and now he doesn’t know if he will ever get to give it.

Everything good in his life has been fleeting. None of it has ever lasted. How did he think this time with Caleb would be any different? He’s human. Already over a third of his lifespan while Essek has barely dented his own. His futile attempts to change the course of his future have proven impossible in one dinner conversation with his mother. No one leaves.

With a scream of frustration and rage, Essek sinks to the floor, hands coming to cover a face that is torn, as tears spill over exhausted eyes. He can’t think, and he’s out of practice. He hasn’t played these games for months, and it shows. Everything in this place is a prison, an expectation to follow in a predefined path, a costume to be put on and a part to perform. It’s a black hole when he has swum in nothing but stars, and he feels the twist and pull, feels the force it is putting on him.

He wants nothing more than to crawl to Caleb, to that space that is warm and happy and where he is loved for who he is, not who he is expected to be.

It’s from this angle, kneeling on the floor as a shadow of who he could be, that Essek notices the scrap of paper that fell from the inside pocket of the tunic. It’s small, but he recognises the handwriting.

You are worth more than what they make you feel, liebling.

He crumples it in his fist, breath gasping and rattling through his chest. He regrets it immediately, pulling it out and using the floor to try and flatten it. A splash hits, a tear instantly smudging the ink, and he’s sitting back, leaving it there, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. He eventually destroys everything he touches.

I am sorry, Caleb.

***

***

***

***

***

***

***

Chapter Text

The days pass, and Essek is miserable. He puts on the clothes that are expected of him, turns up to the larger research laboratory that’s been provided, and all he can think about is how it’s not the one that contains a Caleb. 

A Caleb who he has no right to expect time from anymore. A Caleb whose birthday is in a week, whose gift remains half-constructed and tucked away in his heart, away from harm. A Caleb who Jester reports is as miserable as he is.

He completes his work, returns to his rooms at the Lucid Bastion, and he cannot remember what it was like to be happy.

***

***

It takes Uraya stopping him as he goes to leave one evening, their hand catching his elbow and tugging him back into the room. Their large yellow eyes are knowing, as they weigh up Essek from where he flinched back from the touch.

“Essek, you are not happy here.”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Essek. I can’t… watch you destroy yourself over something that isn’t worth it. For your pride, for whatever this is. I’ve known you for too long.”

He sighs, deflating slightly. Uraya has always been perceptive, has always been able to call Essek on his bullshit. It is how they became unlikely research partners in the first place, and friends once they grew to understand each other.

“I don’t have a choice, Uraya.”

“You always have a choice, Essek,” they reply gently. “You are too used to operating alone. I saw the difference in you. In what you gained from being around them. You need that back.”

“But the Umavi—” he starts, before being interrupted by Uraya.

“The Umavi is playing a game to see how far she can push you, Essek,” Uraya interjected. “How many demands for your time, your attention, your actions before you give in. You closed a window earlier this year, but sometimes you need to shut the door.”

He leans back against the closed door, eyes closing briefly. He knows the ways she can make life difficult, the schemes she pulls behind the scenes, the people who have vanished without any fuss being raised. The Nein are capable, they are resourceful, but he still worries. He can read between the lines of her thinly veiled threats and knows how real they can be.

“You need to be here, and you aren’t right now. You are showing up, but you aren’t here.” Uraya pauses, small goblin arms folded and Essek is aware of the centuries of existence Uraya has on him. The experience and weight those words have behind them. “Do you understand the difference, çocuğum?”

Does he?

***

He returns to his apartment, the sound of the keys turning in the lock like a gunshot to his heart, and braces himself as he pushes the door in. Everything is how he left it. The books and papers spread across the coffee table, the blanket thrown across the back of the couch, the few plants in pots he had–

It’s the plants that cause him to pause. They aren’t dead.

Placing his keys down in the bowl on the bookshelf, Essek crosses to the windowsill, fingers gently pressing down into the dirt of the small pots. They come away damp, a few droplets clinging to them. That’s when he notices that everything is cleaner than he left it.

Sure, everything is still out of place, but there’s no dust coating the table. The plates and glasses are clean in his drying rack, and there’s a neat stack of mail on the corner of the dining table sorted by bills, professional journals, and junk. His heart is clenching, as he stands there surveying the space. It hurts, to be back here, to have this reminder of what he lost.

Toeing his shoes off, Essek pads across to the bedroom, switching a light on as he does. His bed is made, the pillows carefully arranged, and his books are stacked into a neat pile on the side table. The clothes that were across the bed have been folded, and it screams of Caleb. Essek turns the light back off, unable to look at it, barely being able to blink through a fresh wave of tears and longing.

He saves the study for last.

It is untouched, as he expected. Caleb had been warned not to go in before… before. Somehow Essek knew that even now, it wouldn’t have been disturbed.

It’s all there, waiting for him to pick it back up. As if it has been only seconds rather than weeks since he put it down. Walking in, Essek pauses beside the desk, beside the pile of fabric that is still there and the dust that coats it all.

Red, for the Empire.
Silver, for the Nein.
Black, for the possibility of the unknown.

And so subtly woven in, that you would miss it at first glance, are thin strands that toe the line between dark purple and a deep indigo blue.

It was an indulgence, one that he thought he would have time to add to, over the years, to include a representation of him in there. Interwoven in a way that would need careful attention to see.

He runs his hands over the fabric, the half-finished threads and raw edges. Runs his hands over it, feeling the texture catch, the rough patches of the fabric that only make it more stunning when finished. It’s the texture that gives it life, the imperfections and flaws coming together when complete to make something that was more than what it started as.

Pulling out the chair behind the desk, he sits heavily. He’s been exhausted for weeks, emotionally worn out and unable to think. Being here is almost too much, but it is also right. It’s the most like himself he has felt in days, and he can close his eyes and imagine he hears the door opening, imagine Jester’s wicked humour followed by laughter from Beau and Fjord, the low rumble of Caduceus pottering around to find his long disused kettle. Imagine the press of warm lips against his forehead and a blanket draped around his shoulders.

He pulls out his phone, and hesitates, thumb hovering over the message icon and the numerous notifications that he has silenced and ignored. He couldn’t quite bring himself to delete them, the contacts or the conversations.

It’s just words. It’s just messages that hold no power, he can close them again afterwards.

He knows he is lying to himself, but he’s been lying to himself for weeks and eventually he hopes he will believe it.

Tapping, he pulls up the one he knows will hurt the most.

He’s crying again, by the time he’s through them, barely able to read the last few through the mess of tears and gasping breaths. He misses Caleb. The gaping hole in his chest that has been dulled by sheer force of will flares and crumbles every ounce of resistance he had.

What is he doing?

Stuffing himself in a box that no longer fits to please someone he will never please until he stands up for himself. 

What is this worth?

Essek looks back down at the fabric, at his hand still across it, and makes a decision.

***

***

He almost doesn’t knock on the door. He almost leaves the wrapped gift on the doorstep and backs away, too scared to face them all, too scared to face him.

But he does, and his heart is hammering in his chest as he hears multiple sets of feet run towards the door and the tell-tale sign of the windchimes tinkle as it’s pulled open and then he doesn’t have time to think.

A blue tiefling screams and then he is tackled backwards, barely keeping his footing as arms are thrown around his waist and he’s squeezed within an inch of his life. At the same time, there’s a kick to his shin and he yelps.

“You have a death wish turning up here unannounced when my boy has been a shadow of himself for weeks. On his birthday, no less. What the fuck, Essek?”

Veth is standing there, hands on hips, and Essek believes her about the death wish.

He extracts himself from a still sobbing Jester and rubs at his shin.

“I—”

He doesn’t get a word out, before Veth has grabbed him by the front of his shirt and is dragging him inside. 

“You can explain to me later, and you better make it a good one. I have a crossbow and I know how to use it.”

Essek is forcibly pulled through the entryway and through the kitchen until they reach the dining room. The rest of the Nein are staring at him with varying levels of shock but he doesn’t register them.

He hasn’t registered anything else since he rounded the corner and saw the fiery red of Caleb’s hair, his back to him, shoulders hunched over something. As if in a haze, Essek watches Caleb’s head rise as he clued into the rest of the Nein around him, the small twitches as he imagines Caleb’s eyes flicking between the Nein who are all staring at him, until Caleb straightens and turns in his seat.

Essek doesn’t dare look away, as Caleb’s already pale face drains of the little colour it has, doesn’t dare break from his gaze, even as his own heart is beating an erratic rhythm that threatens to fall out of his chest. His entire world view narrows down to cataloguing every shift in expression, the flicker of anger-hurt-devastation-longing-joy before it’s carefully shuttered and it turns blank.

The same is happening to himself, he knows, and he wants to flinch away from the vulnerability. Wants to hide and pull down a mask and protect himself, but that is what got him into this mess and he knows that it is not what will get him out of it. He also wants to drink in the sight of Caleb, the black turtleneck threadbare sweater with its stretched out arms, and worn pants and mismatched knitted socks. It’s so him. It’s so him and Essek’s heart aches.

There’s a flurry of activity around him, of aborted questions and people leaving, of touches to Caleb and wary, warning glances thrown his way, and then they are alone.

The crackling of the fire in the grate is unnecessarily loud, and Essek doesn’t know if it’s the heat that makes him feel like he is suffocating, or the body of unsaid words he wishes he could vomit out.

If there was ever a time to be brave, a moment to step-up and prove his Umavi wrong, this is it.

“I do not have the ability to converse easily the way you do, to let those barriers drop and just speak, so please, please let me stumble through this and if you then never want to see me again, I will respect that and leave,” he says, voice hoarse and rough to his ears. His eyes don’t leave Caleb’s face, even as his hands clutch around the wrapped gift, his only lifeline in this sea around him.

“I made a mistake. I judged wrong, and I thought I could handle it. I thought I was doing the right thing, that it was protecting you, protecting you all. Regret… it is a new sensation.” He laughs hollowly, breaking from Caleb’s gaze as he looks down. “But I do regret it. Not you, not meeting you, not what we had. That I weighed it, and decided that the happiness I had would be enough… that it was better to stop it before it could be poisoned by something I couldn’t control.”

“I’ve done it before. I thought I could do it again, but I miscalculated. You weren’t part of that plan. All of you. But you… I—” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before continuing. “You changed me, and I didn’t realise how much until I had done it, and I hope it isn’t too late.” 

Staring down at his feet, he realises (far too belatedly to do anything about it) that his pants are covered in threads and dust and he’s barely presentable. Somehow, he has worn one black and one brown shoe, and the hem of his shirt is unravelling. It’s fitting that his clothes don’t match, he thinks, considering he feels like he’s barely holding it together.

He hears Caleb close a book and put it aside, hears the shuffle of quiet feet as he rounds the chair he was sitting on and comes over to stop in front of him.

“Look at me, Essek.”

It takes all of his courage to raise his head, to meet those blue eyes, emotions a storm swirling through them. 

“I read your messages. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You’ve done nothing but show me kindness, but I am asking for it anyway. I am sorry.”

“You took away my agency,” says Caleb, and Essek has missed his voice. Has missed the softly accented words spoken with care and precision. “You made a decision that affected both of us, without asking me. Without respecting me enough to think that I would stick through it with you. That hurt, more than anything. Even understanding why you did it, that hurt, Essek. Do you understand what that felt like?”

“Yes. It was like… cutting off a limb and then wondering why I could no longer walk.”

There is a long pause, as Caleb stares at Essek, as he, in turn, stares at Caleb. The distance between them feels insurmountable, even if Caleb is only a step away. And Essek can feel it, can feel that red string wrap around them, the one he thought was frayed and broken, weaving itself tighter.

“It can’t happen again.”

There’s a painful lurch in his stomach, in his chest, as the words register, as that string pulls tighter between them. It’s a physical force, stronger than gravity, an anchor to a safe harbour and an open door.

“I forgive you, schatz. I had before you walked in here, looking like you haven’t tranced in days and hair a mess. Your eyes give you away, when you think nothing else will.”

There’s a dampness at the corner of his eye, and he can do nothing but hold out a hand, stretching hopelessly forward until Caleb takes it. It’s like a switch has been turned on, at that first point of contact. Like a current that fires through him, that spurns him to move.

He’s stepping forward and wrapping Caleb up in his arms, not even noticing as the gift falls from his grasp to the floor, as he buries his face against Caleb’s chest and doesn’t let go.

Firm arms wrap around him and return the hug, holding just as tightly.

He loses track of time, doesn’t know how long they stand there, just holding each other, before Caleb pulls back. There are gentle fingers brushing at his eyes, hands cupping his cheeks, and careful lips pressed against his. It’s barely a kiss, but it lights a fire in him, a sense of home and familiarity that Essek will not squander again. He kisses back, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and Caleb groans.

When they pull back, they are both panting slightly. They do not go far from each other, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the space between them.

“While I would like nothing more than to continue, our friends are probably pressed up against the door outside, and there’s only so long Jester can be patient before she bursts in here,” whispers Caleb.

Essek chuckles in response, and he can’t stop smiling. 

“We have more to talk about, groundwork to lay down so this doesn’t happen again, but I want to step forward with you. Do you want that too?”

“Yes. I want that. I have never wanted anything more in my entire existence.”

“Good,” says Caleb, and he’s smiling too. He presses a kiss to Essek’s forehead, before stepping back and threading their fingers together. “It’s also my birthday and I want my gift. You don’t know how tempting it was to just take a look.”

“About that. You... broke into my apartment?”

***

Chapter Text

It improves, and Essek is light in a way he hasn’t been before. They build again, slowly and surely, a foundation that sinks into his bones and gives him armour stronger than any he has used before.

It’s the hand that grips his under the table as he stares down his mother and resigns from his Den research position. It’s the cups of tea that materialise on his desk when he’s in the middle of grading papers before he even realises he’s finished the previous one. It’s a warmth that wraps around him at night that’s both physical and intangible. If you asked him to summarise it, he would be utterly incapable of finding the words to adequately convey the depth of emotion he has discovered being with Caleb.

He smiles more now than he ever has before. He tries things he might not have tried, knowing that failing isn’t a negative and there’s a net that’s as solid and strong as if woven from the purest spidersilk, priceless in its value, which he knows is there and will catch him without hesitation. There’s pride that he can feel radiating from the small goblin when Essek comes to Uraya and explains the decisions he has made, that he’s choosing himself, and they work out a way that allows Essek to keep his independence while continuing his research.

It’s how he finds himself in one of the smaller lecture rooms, with fifteen of the Dynasty’s brightest students in an introduction class to dunamis, as he guides them through the process of breaking every accepted physics theory that they currently know. It’s oddly rewarding.

He’s wearing it, of course. It’s the right amount of warmth for the lecture hall he teaches in, which always seems to have a cool breeze no matter how well you close the doors. It’s a little big, but he doesn’t care. He glances around as his students are filing out, making sure none of them are watching, and snaps a quick photo of himself.

He opens a message to Yasha while he waits for Caleb’s reply, a small smile on his face anticipating his response.

A banner pops up across his phone with Caleb’s response, and he clicks on it as he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads out the door. He has a few office hours he must put in, and then he is done for the day. The increased teaching load was part of the agreement he reached with Uraya, a way to allow him access to the Marble Tomes that couldn’t be taken away from him, and as much as he had resented it at the start, he’s starting to enjoy it.

He loses the next hour with a steady stream of students – answering questions, guiding towards information that will bridge their ideas, assigning research articles to read – before remembering to check his phone again for a response from Yasha.

There are a few spaces he knows of, inaccessible to most people considering they all lie inside the grounds of the Lucid Bastion.

A knock on his office door draws his attention away from his phone, and he places it face down while plastering a pleasant smile on his face, turning to reach for a stack of student essays.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and it takes a second to realise that it isn’t a student walking through the door, though Caleb doesn’t look out of place in his worn coat, scarf, and beanie, overnight bag slung over his shoulder and crooked grin on his face.

Essek sits back, blinking in surprise while his heart leaps in fondness.

“You’re not one of my students.”

“Not today I’m not,” Caleb replies, closing the door and striding across the room in a few paces before he pulls out the chair in front of Essek’s desk and drops down into it. “You do look good in green.”

Essek blushes, once again thanking his dark skin for not betraying just how flushed he is. It’s been months, and he still goes weak any time Caleb pays him a compliment. He hopes that joy never goes away. He suspects it won’t: the giddy feeling he gets has just increased with time instead of lessening.

“To be fair, you left it behind. I was just making use of it.”

“And none of your sweaters would do, I assume?”

He scoffs, a teasing grin on his face. “Mine are nowhere near as worn and lived in as yours. They are all prickly.”

“We’ll have to get you better sweaters then,” says Caleb as he leans over the desk, Essek rising to meet him halfway.

It’s a lazy kiss, one of comfort and familiarity, that speaks of time they know they will get to spend on other kisses later, but even so there’s an edge of wanting and longing. It leaves Essek slightly breathless when they draw back, foreheads pressed together for a moment before they separate. Even then, his hand comes up to thread through Caleb’s across the desk, soothing circles traced on palms, a connection, and a reminder he likes to hold close.

“How are you, canım?” asks Essek, voice soft.

“Tired,” admits Caleb, and Essek can hear it in his voice, an edge that isn’t normally present. “Have this project that’s been taking up time, on top of helping the Nein.”

Essek raises their joined hands, and softly kisses the back of Caleb’s.

“What do you need?”

There’s quiet between them, after he asks it, as Caleb sighs and deflates, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders now he is here. In this space, he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

“You.”

“I’m here.”

“Can we skip movie night tonight? Just do something quiet. I need… just quiet, and you.”

“Of course, aşkım. Of course. I have a few emails to answer, and then we can head off?”

Caleb nods, squeezing Essek’s hand before letting go. He picks up his phone again as he turns back to his computer, flicking to the Mighty Nein group chat.

***

***

Yasha’s birthday dawns on a day that is slightly wet, the streets of Rosohna glistening with rain in the gently pulsing glow of the streetlights. Essek is leaning against one of the stone pillars holding up the main gate to the Lucid Bastion, cloak wrapped around him to protect against the rain. 

The Mighty Nein are late. 

He’s not surprised, and honestly he expected this after the previous events he has attended. Pulling his phone out, Essek checks to make sure he did actually send a meeting time to Yasha.

He’s considering sending them a follow-up message to check in – you never know when Jester comes up with something she just has to do – when he receives one from Caleb.

Essek’s head snaps up, as he scans the busy street ahead of him, eyes searching for the familiar shock of red hair. It takes a moment, but then he also catches a flash of blue and pink, and he sees them. A smile breaks across his face as he unfurls from his spot, stepping forward and tucking his phone away.

“ESSEK!” shouts Jester, and then she is running towards him and he can barely keep his footing as she slams into him and wraps her arms tight. “It’s so good to see you! It has been like, way too long and you’ve missed out on so many stories from Artie, you also have to meet Sprinkle! Caleb said you’ve been super busy with teaching?? Do you get to have someone to carry your books around now?”

“Ah, Jester,” says Essek, returning Jester’s hug before gently extracting himself from her arms. “I saw you just last week?”

“Oh, yeah, but I totally have a weasel now, Caleb said I shouldn’t bring him to wherever we are going?”

There’s a hand against his back and familiar lips pressed to his cheek as Caleb steps into his field of vision. He turns, weighing up the amount of teasing he’s about to get before he thinks fuck it, and kisses Caleb, hand coming up to cup his cheek briefly.

There’s a wolf whistle from Beau and what he thinks is a groan from Fjord, and he holds the kiss a moment longer before stepping back, a faint blush on his cheeks. There’s a pleased look on Caleb’s face as he takes his hand, and Essek didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with this man but he’s gladly proven wrong.

It feels like it should be life-altering, and in a way it is, but it also isn’t. It’s just Caleb and he’s just Essek and he just kissed him in public outside the Lucid Bastion and it just is . He breaks Caleb’s gaze and smiles at the rest of the Nein.

“Shall we?” Essek asks the group at large, and without waiting for their responses he’s leading them in through the gates.

It’s a winding and weaving path through the many buildings, structures, and paths that make up the grounds of the Lucid Bastion. A large portion of it is now open to the residents of Rosohna, housing government buildings, museums, and general use chambers, and their group is hardly out of place as people hurry between buildings. Eventually, they are walking down a narrow path with far fewer people, and Essek is swiping them through an impressive stone archway and a non-descript purpleheart wooden door with a simple silver inlay of a Beacon.

He pauses before opening the door, indicating Yasha to step closer.

“Welcome to the personal conservatory of Her Majesty Leylas Kryn, Bright Queen of the Dynasty and Quana Kryn, Dusk Captain of the Light.”

Pushing the door open, Essek takes a step back and waits.

Yasha hovers on the doorstep, eyes wide as she catches sight of the location through the open door. She reaches a hand out, and stops, turning to Essek.

“Are you sure?” she asks softly, hesitation colouring her tone. “They don’t mind that… that I’m here? We’re all here?”

“Very sure. They offer their blessings on your birth,” he responds, just as quiet. “I want you to be the first to see it.”

Taking a deep breath, Yasha ducks her head and steps through the door.

Essek follows a moment later, letting Caleb catch the door and usher the rest of the Nein through and into the space. Yasha has stopped a few paces in, hands cupped up against her mouth as she stares at the space around them.

Weathered stone pillars hold up a giant glass ceiling high above them, heat lamps and artificial lighting dotting the space to fill the room with soft-glowing magical sunlight. Spilling out from the door are dozens of paths that stretch into the distance, neat ordered spaces that barely contain the flowers, plants, and trees that cascade over them. It’s centuries old and tended to with care through Leylas’ multiple lifetimes, as a tie to their ancient past and one of the only places where one can stand and smell the history. He’s been here a few times before when he worked on Leylas’ council, and he’s excited to show it to the Nein. The sound of the rain is distant, as if by stepping through the door they have entered another reality, and it’s humid in a way Xhorhas rarely is. Essek shrugs out of his cloak, draping the material over his arm as he steps up next to Yasha.

“It is said that the… Bahçıvanım’s of the Dynasty have spent their lifetimes collecting every specimen they can find and transposing them here. They are… specialists in flowers and plants? I’m not sure of how it translates to Common, but they work with plants and the study of them,” Essek murmurs, pointing out the signs of obvious care and careful tending around the plants and flowers. “It is said that there is not a flower that cannot be found in this space. I think there are some that you will like, up further.”

“Essek,” breathes Yasha, and he’s not prepared as Yasha wraps her arms around him and he’s being hugged in a way that is both consuming and so gentle. “Thank you.” 

The depth of emotion in her voice takes him by surprise, and he finds he is returning her hug with far less hesitancy than he once might have.

“Holy fuck, man, this is the Dynasty’s best kept secret? A collection of rare flowers?” Beau’s voice cuts in and he steps back, turning to see the looks of matching awe on their faces.

“Rare and priceless, yes.” Essek’s lips quirk into a half smirk, before softening as he turns back to Yasha. “It’s been tended to for centuries, Beauregard, and we must make sure that it remains for centuries more. This is one of Leylas’ private gardens, and she takes much pride in it. Come, there is more.”

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he pulls it out as he starts down one of the paths.

Essek eventually leads them to a spot where the paths open up and there is a small gazebo in a central spot, a series of tables and chairs dotted around the space. The various baskets that the Nein brought are set down and Caduceus prepares pots of tea and plates of sandwiches and pastries from within them. They spend the day wandering paths, Essek translating various signs and placards they come across, explaining the significance of different flowers and plants, and enjoying a moment away from the rest of the world.

Yasha’s gifts are given partway through the afternoon, as they all take a break from walking and are gathered on the chairs, the remains of half a lopsided cake on the table between them. 

“I spoke to Beauregard, and I hope this is okay,” starts Essek, holding out a small parcel wrapped in a soft blue and silver cloth, fine black runes embroidered into the pattern. “I will explain as you go.”

“Thank you, Essek. Did you make this?”

“Ah, no, not completely. The wrapping… I did add the runes. It says Yasha the Reborn, Chainbreaker and Redeemer. It’s the runic form of ancient Celestial, utterly useless outside of academics but it called to me for you,” says Essek, reaching out and pointing out the different runes. “The thread is spidersilk, tougher than any other.”

“Ohhhh Essek! Spidersilk is expensive,” gushes Jester, eyes wide as she peeks over Yasha’s shoulder.

Essek shrugs offhandedly. “It is nothing. I had some saved for a special occasion.”

“Really?” There’s wonder in Yasha’s voice and Essek knows he made the right decision. That Yasha is as surprised as he can be, when people do nice things for them.

Essek nods, with a genuine smile on his face. “Yes, this occasion is worth it.” He waits until she pulls it open, to reveal a dark leather notebook. “This is from a local artisan, it’s blank for whatever you want to fill it with. The paper is handmade from flowers donated from this garden, as part of the Dynasty’s support into continuing local customs and artforms.”

“This… the paper is made from flowers?”

“Yes.”

Yasha turns each page with reverence, fingers dancing over each revealed page and at one point, she lifts it and inhales. She’s smiling, as she gets to the last page and sees the writing he left there, pausing in confusion for a moment.

“Ah, I did some research. I hope this was okay, the Dynasty doesn’t have many records into the Iothia Moorlands so it is not much, but a few contacts that might help, if you wanted to go back and… find a location where she might be buried.”

He feels Caleb’s hand clench where it is resting on his knee under the table for a moment before relaxing and patting it gently. Glancing up, he sees a look of raw understanding, as Caleb worked out what he was referring to, the weight of what he was offering.

“Essek.” Yasha is staring at him, before she turns to look at Beauregard. “You asked him?”

Beau nods, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of Yasha’s head. “You don’t have to do anything with it, it’s just… there if you want, and you know we would all come with you.”

“Zuala.” The word is soft, but full of love and joy.

The rest of the Nein are quiet, all just sitting in this moment and letting Yasha take all the time she needs. There’s acceptance and trust, in this space created by all of them, where there is no pressure or expectation.

Yasha breaks it, wiping at her eyes as she tucks the notebook into an inside pocket, laughing at herself softly. “Look at me, getting all emotional over a book.” She takes the scarf and weaves it into her braids, the blue and silver peeking out through her white hair, providing a contrast of colour that suits her.

It’s towards the evening as they are starting to prepare to leave that Caleb catches him, weaving their fingers together and tugging him away from the group.

They are barely around a corner before Caleb stops and turns, hands coming up to cup Essek’s face and he’s being kissed hungrily. Essek groans, arms wrapping around Caleb’s waist and back as he returns it, mouth opening and deepening the kiss. He feels Caleb’s hands tighten slightly, before one slips upwards into his hair and he sighs, content.

They draw back, only far enough to breath, foreheads pressed against each other and eyes closed.

“I’m proud of you, liebling,” whispers Caleb into the space between them, punctuating it with a kiss to the tip of nose.

Essek huffs, puzzled. “Whatever for?”

“Today, for helping, being kind to Yasha, for the information.”

“Of course, they are friends, your family. They are important.”

“This place is beautiful. It’s more than I could have imagined from what you told me. Do you have a favourite spot?”

Essek hesitates for a moment, torn. “I do, but the others—”

“They will wait,” says Caleb, and it should be illegal to use that expression on him and yet Caleb keeps doing it. “Please?”

Essek turns, hand reaching back for Caleb and then he’s darting down a path, around a corner and glancing around, stepping over one of the low barriers in front of a giant weeping willow.

“Who’s feeling rebellious now?” asks Caleb, delight in his voice as he joins Essek.

“I have always been rebellious, Caleb, this is hardly a new habit.”

He circles the tree, looking for the right spot and— ah. There it is. Ducking, he dips under one of the branches, holding back the delicately hanging leaves and waits. Caleb joins him a moment later, eyes wide as he takes in the tree from up close. There’s a lamp positioned at the base of the tree, and Essek fiddles with the switches, finding the override and flicking it on. It glows, the insides immediately taking on a purple hue that shifts and dances as the tree sways. Turning to Caleb, Essek sucks in a breath. The light catches against Caleb’s hair, and reflects back and it’s beautiful. Caleb is smiling, drinking in the sight from under the branches, and then he’s looking at Essek.

Looking at Essek, and not breaking away, emotion heavy in his gaze.

“I used to come here, as a break from working, when I needed it. I could… hide away, and no one would come looking. Quana caught me once, though. She made a point of looking the other way and shooing me in.” Caleb is still looking at him. “I haven’t been here in years though; I don’t really get the time. And security is a lot stronger than it used to be.” He’s babbling, under the weight of Caleb’s gaze, unflinching and resolute with unabashed care and fondness. He falls quiet, gazing back at him.

They stand there, undisturbed in a bubble of time, not speaking and just gazing. It’s not uncomfortable, he realises. He would have been, once upon a time. Now though, he likes these moments, where he can just be and they don’t have to speak.

“It suits you, this place,” Caleb murmurs, breaking the silence.

“Mmm. It’s comforting.”

Caleb holds out a hand, palm raised and open.

“Come here?”

Essek goes.

He’s wrapped in Caleb’s arms, head resting against Caleb’s chest, listening to the rise and fall of air through lungs, and it’s echoed by the moving of the tree around him. A melody of its own.

In, and out.

In.

And out.

He thinks back, on how much has changed in the last year, of his friends out there who trusted him to be a part of all their celebrations, how he has learned about building new traditions and how there is a part of him that wants to always be part of them.

“Horisal,” he says, the words as soft and gentle as the breeze around them, and he feels the moment it takes for Caleb to register that he’s spoken.

“Hmm?”

“Horisal. My birthday… I was born in the month of Horisal. It’s not… it’s not the moment my Den celebrates. That would have been in Brussendar when consecution was… offered. Everyone thinks I took it. I didn’t. It started the rift between myself and the Umavi, years ago. It was celebrated anyway: she couldn’t understand someone turning it down… and always worried how it would reflect on the Den.” He pauses, realising what he just told Caleb. “You’re one of three people who know now.”

He feels Caleb draw back for a moment, can feel the weight of his eyes and he glances up.

“I love you. I am in love with you in ways I don’t think I will ever fully be able to convey, Essek Thelyss.”

He closes his eyes and smiles.

“I think I am starting to understand, Caleb Widogast.”

Chapter Text

Horisal dawns with its usual fanfare of blistering cold winds, snow covered streets, and freezing temperatures, and for someone who hates the cold, Essek thinks it has some merits. One of them is having a completely valid reason to huddle up with Caleb as they explore the New Dawn festival that spills out from the Lucid Bastion into the Firmaments district as the year changes. It’s an excuse to share mugs of spiced wine, to eat huddled up on a bench near an open fire, and to wrap each other in scarves and blankets as Essek explains the significance of the music and proceedings.

There’s a beauty to it, though he doesn’t appreciate his early morning walks to the Marble Tomes where he can’t feel his fingers on arrival. He does appreciate mornings that blend into afternoons on his days off curled up in front of the Xhorhaus fire with Caleb and the Nein, board games or craft projects open, the quiet joy that comes from a shared space. That he gets to share more of what makes Rosohna special with those he cares about and learn to see it through new eyes.

On one of these rare days where he doesn’t have to be anywhere early, he opens his eyes from his trance to a cat staring at him. It’s not the most unusual of things, considering the amount of time he spends here in Caleb’s room, but Caleb’s asleep and Essek isn’t sure exactly what Frumpkin wants.

They sit there staring, and Essek tries to ignore him. He opens a book, shifting to get comfortable, and it’s fifteen minutes of Frumpkin shifting closer until he’s sitting on Essek’s outstretched legs, yellow eyes not moving from Essek’s face. He tries petting him, tries coaxing him to curl up with him, but he just sits there, staring, clearly wanting something from him.

“Caleb is asleep still. Probably will be for a while yet,” says Essek, voice deliberately soft in the darkness.

Frumpkin blinks and lets out a quiet meow, quirking his head to one side.

“Hmm? What do you need? Are you hungry?”

Frumpkin meows again, stretching out across Essek before jumping down off the bed and trotting towards the closed door. Essek turns and looks at Caleb for a moment – face down against his pillow, hair dishevelled around his head like a fiery halo and arm slightly outstretched towards Essek – before he sighs and takes a moment to press a kiss to Caleb’s shoulder, swinging his legs out of the bed, letting Caleb sleep. He stretches briefly, joints shifting and popping before he settles, picking up Caleb’s discarded dressing gown and his phone, wrapping the former around him as he heads to the door.

Opening the door for the cat, Essek eases it closed behind him, before heading out and down the stairs following a more and more insistent and vocal Frumpkin to the kitchen. He sees the bowl for water, but no obvious one for food and he’s even more confused as he looks in the usual cupboard for Frumpin’s biscuits only to find it empty.

“Ah, that is going to be a problem.”

Merooow.

“I am working on it, little one. Do you know where he keeps it? It seems to have moved.”

He opens a few other cupboards and finds there is no order to anything inside them. It’s a chaotic mess of containers and boxes shoved in beside a loaf of bread and tomatoes, cans stacked precariously and some thing that he isn’t sure what exactly it is – maybe a potential science experiment more suited to a laboratory. Closing the door, Essek looks down at Frumpkin, who is sitting patiently at his feet.

“I honestly am not sure what I expected.”

Pulling his phone out, Essek sends a quick message, hoping one of the Nein may be awake to see it.

He fills the kettle with water in the meantime, switching it on and leaning back against the counter.

Essek hears Caduceus before he sees him, a shuffling creak in the floorboards above followed by footsteps on the stairs. Tucking his phone away, Essek sets the kettle to boil again, wanting to make sure the water is hot.

“Hello, Caduceus,” he murmurs. “Sorry for this, I looked, but—”

“But it isn’t in any place that makes sense. Do you mind switching a light on? My eyes aren’t as good as yours.”

“Oh, of course.”

Essek leans over and flicks a switch above the stove. It’s soft enough it won’t hurt his eyes while giving enough light for the firbolg to navigate the room by. There’s a comforting quiet as Caduceus potters into the kitchen, fetching first Frumpkin’s box of cat biscuits from a hidden spot under the sink and handing them to Essek, then retrieving a tea pot and a container of leaves. There’s two mugs on the counter as Essek fills Frumpkin’s bowl and stashes the food away again.

They’re both warming their hands around mugs of tea, the steam gently rising up from the hot liquid as Essek inhales. It’s a fruit tea of some sorts, with a slight hint of vanilla. He takes a sip, savouring the warmth that spreads through him as he does.

“It’s good to see you here. With him, like this.”

“Hmm?”

“You have roots now.”

“I… ” starts Essek, before trailing off, face flushing slightly. “I am not—"

“It’s okay, life is like that. It takes us by surprise and before you realise it, there’s roots and leaves in places there weren’t before. It’s nice, when you let it happen.”

Caduceus didn’t look like he was expecting a response, his own hands wrapped around an earthen mug, looking content to just be. He gave Essek space to think, and wonder.

It had taken him by surprise. All of it, and yet it also hasn’t. Like he had been waiting for something to be the catalyst to change, to stand up for himself. He’s seen the others, has since learned how they became the Nein, how they became a family, and saw how better they were. Maybe that’s what inspired him to try, and even though he fell, they caught him.

He thinks back over that dinner with Caleb, as he reached out when Caleb needed, held his hand as he explained, and later held him tight as they visited. There was a single tree there, in Blumenthal, the leaves creating a canopy that shaded them both, Essek from the sun, Caleb from the memories. As Essek listened, a burden became shared. It’s something he’s learned recently, the way shared burdens become easier to carry, when there’s a partner who’s in step with him and gets it in the same way that he gets it. 

There’s a thought there too, one that’s been brewing for a while, about how Caleb isn’t alone anymore, and neither is Essek. It’s a feeling too, one that just grows with each shared morning, and he thinks he understands what Caduceus means.

“How did you know… that you didn’t want a relationship with anyone? That it wasn’t something you were interested in?” he asks, staring into the mug he holds before glancing up at Caduceus.

“How does anyone know? You feel it, and it becomes something that is just right.”

Essek nods, contemplating.

“And you have not regretted it? Listening to what felt right?”

Caduceus is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks it’s in his low rumble, soothing in the quiet of the kitchen.

“No, for how can you regret something that just is? I trust the Wildmother, and the Nein, and myself. They fulfill me. It’s what I need. The path has a way of finding you, and you’ll be through the forest without realising.”

“What if I wanted to… ah, not just want, but also… it feels right, that Caleb… Caleb and I are permanent. That it’s a permanent thing, the roots. I think I want it to be permanent.”

There’s surprise and delight, and a little bit of understanding in the smile that Caduceus directs his way.

“Yeah? Permanent can be good. You’d have to ask him, but I think Caleb feels it too.”

“Mm,” Essek murmurs, heart beating in a way that’s terrifying and exciting all at once. “How… how do you propose to someone, in Empire tradition?”

***

Essek leans back in the chair in his study, student essays in a stack before him, laptop open to the Conservatory grading portal, and sighs. He has two more days of this, and then he will be done, his students on a well-deserved break between semesters and he will be able to relax and focus on some of the other projects he’s been neglecting through the height of their assessment.

There’s also the matter of his own personal research into Empire traditions and customs that he’s working on, although he hasn’t had much time since his conversation with Caduceus a week ago. He thinks he needs help, and when he spoke to Beauregard two days ago, she had laughed at him before bundling him up in a hug with a promise to help.

The grumbling of his stomach interrupts his thoughts, and he smiles ruefully, realising just how long he has been sitting at his desk without movement. It’s been… at least six hours, and he definitely forgot to eat the sandwich Caleb made him before he left to do errands.

Standing, Essek stretches, groaning in relief as his back pops and he shifts his shoulders. He shuffles into the kitchen, bare feet cold as they encounter the tiles.

“Should have worn socks,” he says to the empty room.

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket with one hand, while digging around his pantry for the pack of crackers he knows he still has.

Closing the cupboard, he heads to the couch and drops down onto it, opening the crackers and munching distractedly as he quickly checks his emails. Nothing important in there.

 Essek chuckles and nods to himself in agreement.

***

There’s the sound of keys in his front door before it swings open and closed, a familiar shuffle that he knows is Caleb crossing the doormat as he goes to hang up his coat, followed by the thunk of a bag being placed down. All of it causes Essek to smile where he stands, half dressed in front of his closet debating which shirt to wear.

Right on schedule, Caleb calls out from the other room. “Essek?”

“In the bedroom,” he calls back, pulling out the charcoal grey button down with a faint lilac geometric hexagon pattern and sliding it on.

He’s just gotten to the buttons as he hears Caleb round the corner, and he turns, catching the appreciative glance Caleb’s eyes make as they roam up his body. Raising an eyebrow, Essek smirks slightly and Caleb doesn’t even look a little bit put out at being caught.

“Hello, Caleb.”

“Hallo, Essek.”

Caleb steps up to him, hand coming up to cup his cheek as he leans down slightly and kisses him. He doesn’t even try to not melt into it, arm sneaking around Caleb’s waist to hold him close as he returns the kiss. Caleb tastes faintly of cinnamon and sugar, which is unusual, but Essek dismisses it. Probably taste-testing Jester’s baking skills. He draws back, pressing his forehead to Caleb’s briefly.

“Your nose is cold,” he remarks, his voice light and teasing.

Caleb chuckles, hands squeezing gently before he releases Essek and shuffles around him to the bed, flopping back on it.

“Ja, that tends to happen when it’s winter outside and it’s blowing a gale. Are you almost ready?”

“Mmm, I am.”

Finishing with the buttons on his shirt, Essek follows it by pulling on a teal cashmere knitted sweater, sitting down on the bed to pull on his socks and winter boots. Caleb chooses that moment to shift on the bed, curling up against Essek’s back and wrapping his arms around his middle. His head ends up on Essek’s thigh, bright blue eyes blinking up at him. It’s a ritual of sorts, from the days that Essek has to start early and Caleb wakes with him, protesting at letting him go. It’s one of Essek’s favourite rituals, and he’s so tempted to just stay here, but he promised he wouldn’t miss this one.

Flicking Caleb’s nose, Essek raises an eyebrow.

“Now who is the one that’s not ready?”

Caleb rolls his eyes, pressing a final kiss to Essek’s knee before sitting up and sliding off the bed.

“Well, shall we?”

The walk to the Xhorhaus isn’t long, but Caleb was right: the wind is biting. They don’t speak much, hands threaded together and tucked into Caleb’s coat pocket to keep them warm, scarves pulled up around their necks, and Essek regrets not wearing a beanie as his ears twitch with each gust of wind. Caleb just sees it as an excuse to press himself to Essek’s side, suggesting that ‘body heat will help’ while Essek points out that there’s no way it would transfer between all the layers.

It’s a moot argument, one they’ve had many times before, and Essek suspects they both keep it up just for the sake of teasing the other.

The warmth as they cross the threshold is delightful. Essek sighs happily as the door swings shut behind them. It’s then that he catches the delicious smell permeating the air from the kitchen. It causes him to pause, sniffing the air. It’s rich, herbal, and what he thinks is freshly baked bread.

“What is that?” he remarks, hands pausing as he unwraps his scarf.

“Caduceus has been experimenting, I think you’ll like this one,” remarks Caleb as he shrugs out of his own coat, his blue striped scarf already hanging over one of the coat hooks. Holding his hand out for Essek’s coat, he nods towards the kitchen. “I’ll hang these up, I think everyone’s already there.”

Essek hands them off, rubbing his hands together to bring feeling back to his chilled palms, and heads in the direction indicated.

Rounding the corner, he glances at the fireplace as he strides towards the kitchen, and does a double take, feet grinding to a halt. He’s greeted by the sight of the Nein in front of him, decked out in their finest, Jester and Veth holding a giant cake between them with what he is sure is far too many candles to be considered safe for an indoor space. Yasha is at the back, a bunch of helium balloons in her hand, while Fjord, Beauregard, and Caduceus are all wearing paper party hats.

“I— what?!”

“Happy birthday, Essek!”

The collective shout takes him by surprise, and his brain takes a moment to catch up. Birthday? It’s not—

Except it is.

Horisal. It’s Horisal 23rd. His birthday, even though he had never told Caleb the date. Hadn’t even thought about it after telling him the month, and he certainly didn’t expect anything to come from it.

There are hands on his waist from behind him, and arms wrapping around him as Caleb presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Essek doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry, the storm of emotions he’s feeling in this moment overwhelming his rational ability to think, so he does both. This, somehow, is endearing to the Nein, who all wear matching satisfied and proud expressions.

“Oh my—” he starts, hand pressing against his mouth briefly. “No one has ever… how? I didn’t tell you the date.”

“I know,” replies Caleb.

Caleb shifts, taking Essek’s hand and tugging him forward.

Someone steps out from behind Caduceus then, drawing his attention, someone Essek had missed as he entered. Someone who is as familiar as his reflection, white hair long and braided back, who only looks a little awkward and out of place surrounded by his friends.

“Verin?”

Jester can’t keep quiet from that point, and Essek has to hand it to her, it’s impressive she lasted this long when she is practically vibrating with excitement.

“Artie helped me track him down – why didn’t you tell me you had a brother – and then I pestered him until he told us what day it was!” She’s still holding the cake, talking rapid fire at Essek, who barely hears what she says, eyes fixed on Verin’s nervous smile. “You can’t think we wouldn’t have celebrated your birthday too, Essek, especially because you’ve been such a big help for all of ours, Caduceus even made something—”

“Shh, Jes, let’s put this cake down while we give these two a moment,” says Beau, stepping up to help carry it across to the table.

Essek shoots her a grateful look as she passes, and there’s understanding as she punches his shoulder. He staggers slightly, and definitely does not yelp. Rubbing at his shoulder, Essek takes a deep breath as he comes to a stop in front of Verin.

Verin clears his throat, hesitates for a moment, and then reaches a hand out towards Essek. “Hello, brother. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I figured—”

He stops, as Essek immediately takes his hand, his other hand comes up to clasp it between both of them, grip firm and only a little bit shaking.

“Verin, it—” He stops, utterly unsure how to get the words out that would convey the storm of emotions he’s feeling.

They have never been ones for talking, Verin and him. Much more suited to thinly veiled barbs and challenges when forced to be together for Den events. But, they have been trying, through tentative messages after Essek’s decision to step back from the Den, and the trust that once existed is slowly being built again.

He keeps it simple, hoping the sincerity of his words would come through.

“Thank you.”

Verin nods, his eyes understanding and accepting, before he swallows and then grins. It’s the same grin he used to wear before gloating over Essek’s lack of ability with anything physical, and Essek knows he’s in for it.

“That blue tiefling can be awfully persuasive. I didn’t quite believe her and thought someone was having it on until there was a follow up message from a certain human and it all clicked. Quite an odd bunch you’ve found yourself with.”

“They found me, really.”

“That I can believe, considering you have the social skills of a barely birthed moorbounder,” Verin remarks off-handedly, and there’s a snort from behind him.

“You can say that again,” says Beauregard, sliding up next to Essek. “You should have seen how he used to blush at the start when we—"

“No,” Essek cuts in. “No, you are not telling that story. Verin, how about I introduce you to everyone?”

***

Jester decrees the cake is to be consumed first, followed by Caduceus’ experiment – which turns out to be the most delicious beef stew he has ever eaten – and Essek can’t remember a time that he has been so content around the company of friends.

He had briefly worried that Verin, sitting between Beauregard and Fjord, would be out of place, but he shouldn’t have been concerned. The conversation quickly descended into who had the most outrageous college stories, of which he lost track of when Fjord started to tell a story about their late friend Molly that involved a tapestry, a fruit platter, and very little clothing.

He’s sitting with Caleb on his left, holding hands under the table as he leans into his side, and he’s happy. He’s happier than he has been in a while, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it can’t get better than this.

“Was it you, who came up with this idea?” he asks softly, looking up at Caleb.

“Mm, though Jester was the brains behind most of the organisation. You know how she is.”

“I do know how she is. This is… truly. This is special.” He leans up to press a kiss to the underside of Caleb’s jaw. “Thank you.”

Caleb just squeezes his hand in response, a soft smile on his face.

He notices Verin watching him from the other side of the room, a contemplative look on his face. Essek raises an eyebrow, an unspoken question, and a moment later his phone vibrates with a notification.

Essek chuckles, angling the screen to show Caleb the messages before responding.

Verin’s deep laugh echoes across the space, and it warms something in Essek, makes him hope that they are on the path to repairing this fractured relationship.

“Essek!”

Jester catches his attention as she dances back into the room, arms wrapped around a small parcel that she drops down onto the table in front of him.

“Yes, Jester?”

“Presents! Well, present in this case, a singular present, but it’s a big one from all of us since we all worked on it!”

“Oh,” he says, blinking as he sits up and looks down at the clearly hand-painted wrapping paper that has a few too many green dicks hiding behind innocent flower bushes. “That is quite… this whole dinner is already more than enough—”

“Essek, we’ve already got it, may as well let us give it to you at this point,” says Fjord, leaning back on his chair.

“Well, since you have gone through all this trouble—”

“Yeah, you better appreciate it, hot boi,” warns Veth, finger pointed in his direction and a serious look on her face. “That crossbow still hasn’t seen enough use.”

He holds up his hands, placated and only a little bit nervous.

“Ah, that won’t— I promise to, uh—”

“I’m fucking messing with you.” Veth cracks a grin, throwing her hands in finger guns for a moment before she grabs a mostly full bottle of wine and drinks straight from it.

Chuckling, Essek returns her smile in relief, before he picks up the parcel. It’s heavier than he expects, a solid weight to it while also being soft. He’s curious now, as he turns it over and finds the tape holding the wrapping closed. There’s only a few groans from Beauregard as he slowly and carefully opens it, not wanting to damage the paper. He has been given so few gifts in his life, he is planning to treasure every one he gets from this point forward.

He slides the wrapping off, removes a layer of tissue paper and then he’s holding it. It takes a moment to work out exactly what it is, as he unfolds and holds up swathes of fabric full of mishmashes of embroidery and colour, brow furrowed, and it’s not until Yasha and Caduceus step up to hold each corner and help unfurl it that it clicks.

It’s an aile ağacın.

An aile ağacın that is the story of Essek and the Mighty Nein, each section as different as they all are, and yet somehow forming a cohesive whole. He can’t do anything but stare at it. Stare, and reach out a hand to touch the threads.

“Caleb explained what this is, and how you don’t have one any more,” says Jester, touching his shoulder. “We wanted to make you a new one. We might not have got it all correct, but Beau did her best with the book you gave her, and we figured artistic flair had to count for something.”

“Jester.” His voice breaks on the word, and he has to swallow past a lump in his throat.

“See, this one here I did”—a blue hand reaches forward and points out green thread of an arched doorway that stretches down into a rough depiction of the Xhorhaus—“and then Yasha did the storm clouds and the flowers, Caduceus did the tree you showed us for his birthday…”

“I put in the ocean and some whisky cocoa,” Fjord says, coming around behind him, and indeed, there’s a little depiction of the bottle Essek had gifted just under a year ago.

“Yeah, there’s even like, fucking soup and all that on there, because Caleb told us how happy you got when you were sick that one time,” adds Beauregard. She looks proud when Essek glances her way. “I even took a crack at translating it into Undercommon. Caleb helped with those parts.”

There’s the squeeze of Caleb’s hand on his knee, before it resumes running soothing circles into his thigh, and Essek looks over at him.

“I may have contacted Uraya to make sure it was all spelled correctly, and to clarify some of the phrases,” Caleb murmurs, nodding towards it. “They should be mostly right.”

And it’s there, the purple thread standing out in between the other designs, as it mixes in the traditional phrases with quotes from the Nein. To anyone else, it would be an offence, but to him it is a celebration of them. A statement that Essek has family and the family chose him and will continue to.

“There’s space for you to continue it into the future,” says Jester. “And we can totally help if you need design inspiration, Artie had quite a few other ideas that would work.”

He’s still at a loss for words. These people, they are his family.

Essek looks at each of them, and his eyes catch Verin’s. There’s a smile on his face, and also a tightness around his eyes, a weight of complicated emotion that Essek suspects he could guess at.

“Did you help?” he asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

Verin nods. “Some, though I explained you were always better at remembering it all than I was… I’m hoping you could-” he breaks off, swallowing. “You could teach me? Figured I should maybe actually learn it all.”

A new warmth expands in his chest, like something precious has been discovered, and has been rekindled. “I’d like that,” Essek replies, and the tightness around Verin’s eyes softens, his smile shifting into something genuine and easy.

Essek turns to the rest of the Nein. 

“Thank you, all of you.” He pauses, needing a moment to breathe, to centre, to try and convey how much this all means. “I had no idea how much you would all come to mean to me, when we met. You have changed me, in ways that I cannot convey, and I thank you for trusting me, even despite my stumbling moments.”

“That’s what family does, Essek,” says Yasha, a genuine and soft smile on her face. “We catch each other when we need to.”

***

Essek is still chuckling at the response when he feels arms weave around him and lips press against the back of his neck, and there’s a warmth that comes with it that causes him to lean back into the weight.

“Hello, canım.”

He turns in Caleb’s arms, placing the phone aside as he does so that he can loop his own arms around Caleb’s waist, stepping in close. He feels Caleb’s chin come to rest on his shoulder, nose nuzzling in against his neck, the breath causing his ear to twitch in response.

“I will never get tired of you saying hello to me, schatz.”

There's been few words between them since they left the Xhorhaus a while ago. Essek wanted to take Caleb to his favourite spot in Rosohna: a rooftop observatory officially part of the Marble Tomes that is entirely encased in glass, home to an ancient device that tracks the shifting of ley lines across Exandria. Strictly speaking, it’s off-limits after hours, but Essek doubts anyone will be checking.

Caleb had been suitably impressed, listening attentively to Essek’s explanation before firing off a rapid series of questions. The only light is from a single, hooded lantern, intentionally kept dull so as to not disturb the view of the endless starlight above them. He looks up now, head tipping back as his eyes follow the gentle shifting and flickering of the stars.

“Beautiful.”

“Mm, it is. I used to come here on nights when I just... needed some space. The endless possibilities of starlight were attractive. Still are, really.”

“I wasn’t referring to the stars.”

Essek looks back down and he’s met with the full force of Caleb’s gaze intently focused on him, red lips upturned and eyes dancing. The amount of love and attraction he sees there causes him to flush, even as he knows Caleb would be able to see it returned. It still sometimes does not seem real.

“Caleb.”

Caleb merely leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking a step back.

“There’s something more that I want to give you, that’s just from me.” Caleb pulls out a small, wrapped object from inside his coat pocket. “It’s, ah, taken me a little while to put it together, and I hope I got it right.”

Caleb holds it out for Essek to take. It’s light, about the size of a small box that fits in the palm of his hand. He knows better than to protest, knows it would fall on deaf ears anyway, and he’s curious as to what he may have been working on. There’s cloth wrapped around it, and textured with more embroidery, and he smiles knowing the effort that Caleb has gone through.

He unknots the wrap, revealing a small hinged box, a dark midnight blue. Sitting on a bed of dark velvet are a pair of silver cufflinks in the shape of a dodecahedron. The Luxon Beacon, but there’s something else there. He picks one of them up, and then he realises they aren’t smooth. Across the front of the pattern is a raised, golden inlay of a flame.

“I know family has a complex meaning for you, and I know that you’re still adjusting to the Nein, to us all,” says Caleb, voice soft with an almost anticipatory weight to it. “I know you’ve spoken recently of leaving the Thelyss name, even though you’re not sure what other one you might take. What Den would have you. I wanted to offer you another option.”

Essek glances up, smiling at Caleb for a moment, before he looks back down, turning the cufflink over and seeing there’s something engraved on the underside. He focuses on it, trying to get a closer look.

“How does Essek Widogast of Den Nein sound?”

“What.” Essek’s head instantly snaps up.

Except Caleb is no longer standing in front of him. Caleb is kneeling on one knee, hands clasped together, smiling up at him.

Something about it rings a bell, something that has come up in his research, but he’s scrambling to process and doesn’t have the capacity to work it out right now.

“Caleb?”

“Let me introduce you to this Empire tradition, as I am hopeful that you might have to learn a few more of them soon,” says Caleb in reply, with a chuckle that is thick with emotion. “Marry me.”

He works it out then, connects the dots between this gesture and the cloth. He pulls it out, looking for it, until he spots it in the centre. The detail that he missed the first time, the flame from before repeating, except this one is intertwined with the dunamantic symbol in lieu of the Thelyss family crest, the threads and runes spiralling around them in an interlocking pattern. There’s a rushing sound in his ears as his heart beats a stuttering rhythm, as he looks back to Caleb.

“There has been something about you since that day we met,” says Caleb, a soft smile on his face, the words gentle and so full of care. “There’s a gravity that I still can’t explain, and I don’t want to explain it. Not if it means I could spend the rest of my life exploring it with you. I want to… to wake up next to you, to have you be part of my joys and triumphs, as I hope to be a part of yours.”  

Essek can’t help it, he can’t stay here separate from Caleb. He has to touch him, to do something. As he reaches a hand out, Caleb takes it, like he had all those months ago. Took it, held on, and didn’t let go.

“I know that my lifespan will be a fraction of yours, and that’s a bridge we will have to cross, but I want to cross it with you, to be on that path with you, for as long as I can be.” There’s a dampness in Caleb’s eyes that glisten across the surface, as Caleb breaks eye contact for just a moment, before looking back, determined. He clears his throat, gripping Essek’s hand tighter. “And please enjoy my gods awful accent on this one, I’ve been practicing.

“E-evler arasındaki bu örgü birleşimini kabul… ed… uh--” Caleb breaks off a moment. “Scheisse , how do I pronounce the next word?”

“Edecek,” Essek supplies, his voice breaks slightly and he realises he’s crying again, except this time he doesn’t care.

Caleb flashes him an appreciative smile, chuckling slightly.

“Ja, thank you. Okay. Okay. Kabul edecek ve yeniden ba-başlayacak mısınız ? Karanlıktan aydınlığa g-giden bir yolda ilerlemek, döngüler sona erene kadar sonsuza dek?”

Will you accept this joining of weaves between houses and begin anew? Stepping forth on a path from darkness to light, everlasting until cycles end?

It’s the traditional phrasing, going back centuries of existence, once spoken when there was no separation between proposal and ceremony, when just speaking it would be binding, the answer a weighing up of connections in a split moment.

Caleb had to know what it meant. He had to know what those words mean, in context and out. The fact that he had found them, had taken the time to learn them. Essek’s heart feels fit to burst.

“So. What is your answer? Because this ground is cold, and my knees are not what they used to be—”

Essek drops down onto the floor in front of Caleb, grasps his face in both hands and kisses him, sound and deep, the box with the cufflinks hurriedly – carefully – placed down on the ground as he does.

Caleb returns the kiss, arms coming to wrap around Essek, cradling him ever so carefully and holding him in place. It lights a fire in his soul, Caleb the catalyst that sets it sparking, arcing through his every vein, and he can’t imagine ever saying no to this.

Time passes. He doesn’t have Caleb’s uncanny ability to track it, and for once he is glad, since he never wants this moment to end. As they pull back, briefly, Essek realises that it’s not an ending, it is a beginning, one that he will continue as years come to pass. They are both panting slightly, breath mingling in the space between, and he feels Caleb chuckle.

“Is that a yes, then?”

He can’t help but kiss him again at that.

“It is a yes, you absolute, wonderful, over-achieving, delightful human,” says Essek, drawing back only to press a series of kisses against Caleb’s forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth. “You had to get there first.”

“Hmm?”

“I was… you are not going to believe me but at least I have Beauregard as a witness. I was planning on asking you, I just hadn’t worked out how yet.”

Caleb laughs at that, and Essek feels it as much as he hears it, both of them not willing to let go of the other.

“How would you have asked me?”

“Well, I would have had to cook you dinner first, a formal meal to go with a formal proposal. I looked into rings, but, uh, quickly realised that I wanted your opinion and then everything else I read was...” he shakes his head fondly. “Confusing. Confusing traditions. Thus my, ah, asking Beauregard for assistance.”

“Well. How about you cook me dinner one time and I’ll pretend to be surprised so you can get the full effect?”

Essek laughs, heart light as he closes his eyes and leans forward, content.