Work Text:
Caleb loved taking his time. He was nothing if not methodical, and detail-oriented almost to a fault. He counted his coins one at a time. He traced runes for his spells slowly and with great care. He did up Essek's tunic with the same easy, graceful tempo.
The pearly white of the undertunic caught the light almost as much as the glittering jewelry Essek was hiding beneath it. Ceremonial, all of it - a layer of jewels followed by layers of fabric followed by more jewels was the Kryn way. Precious stones close to the skin were an indulgence, one the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen was expected to afford. Even if no one but his empire lover ever saw them.
The undertunic itself was a luxury, lined in soft silk that didn't catch on his opulent neck piece. There were twenty-one fabric ties up the back, a multiple of seven, the holy number. The ties would normally be done up by servants. They were another symbol of den Thelyss' wealth. Caleb was learning all these little social tells one at a time. As much as he could tell the posturing and ceremony bored Essek, it thrilled him.
"Twenty," he counted aloud, his square fingertips leaving the tie he had been working on and drifting higher, now at the nape of Essek's dark, elegant neck. The tunic had a high collar and tight fitting, long sleeves, so it would show beneath all the other layers Essek had to wear. The last time was at a slightly different angle than the rest, sitting neatly against his neck instead of the line of his back. Caleb tied it with the same neat precision as the rest, then announced, "Twenty-one."
"Thank you, Caleb," Essek murmured. "Will you help me with my stockings?"
The stockings, too, were silk. They were a dark grey, almost black, and tied at the knees with purple ribbon. They would be almost completely hidden beneath the long undertunic. Caleb knelt and felt Essek's eyes on him immediately. The hair on the back of his neck stood up - not fearfully, but pleasantly. Anticipation filled him.
Essek stood barefoot before the mirror in his dressing room. The stockings were draped over a chair to his right. Caleb touched one reverently. He had never felt anything so soft. Picking it up, he opened it and held it out for Essek's dainty foot, draped already in several delicate silver anklet chains. The jewelry alone had taken Essek on his own nearly thirty minutes to get into place. There was more of it that would be worn above the outer robe.
Caleb dutifully tied the stockings above Essek's knee. Essek did not move, but Caleb could feel him looking. Giddily, he forced himself to focus on his task. The shoes were next, barely more than slippers, with artfully pointed tips. Caleb slipped them onto Essek's feet carefully.
There were perhaps a dozen more layers laid out on every available surface in the room. Chemises and tunics and robes and mantles, all with a thousand tiny details of craftsmanship, most of which would be hidden by the next layer. The next was a translucent chemise, a starchier material Caleb could not name. It slipped over Essek's head and drifted down to his ankles. "This protects the undertunic from wrinkling," Essek explained, indulging Caleb's curiosity unprompted. "The stays, next."
The stays were not a corset - Caleb had already been corrected on the differences. These hugged Essek's torso and molded him into a more fashionable shape, without the use of restrictive laces. Instead, the boning was mostly illusion - not magic, but tailoring - and gave the impression of wider shoulders atop a thin waist. Essek seemed not to mind the mild limits the stays placed on his ability to curve his waist - probably because he comported himself with perfect posture always, stays or no.
After the stays there was a deep blue robe, its sleeves slightly shorter than the undertunic so it would be seen at the cuffs. It was nearly quilted in tiny embroidery, the patterns criss-crossing across every inch. Caleb helped the fabric drape flatteringly down Essek's chest. This belted at the front, pulling in to accentuate his waist. There was another robe, silver and close-fitted, with tiny perfect points at the collar. Caleb knew these were meant to imitate the shape of a particularly poisonous mushroom that grew in the Rosohnan caves. Essek was fond of symbolism.
Above that was a final draping robe in Essek's signature deep purple. It glimmered as if dusted with glitter, though none shed onto the floor. Its sleeves were the shortest of all, so every layer beneath it could be seen. Essek shifted a bit, and suddenly it was Shadowhand Thelyss standing before him. The softness of his lover was tucked carefully away. Caleb felt honored to have been allowed to participate in the process of hiding him.
"My mantle, please," he asked cooly, and Caleb obeyed. The dazzling piece was more metalwork than garment, with dozens of fine, knife-like points gathered at his collar bones. It sat neatly in line with the cut of the outer robe, only adding to his air of resendence. So adorned, Essek waved one fine-boned hand and dismissed Caleb at last, while he moved to sit in front of another mirror. The rest of the jewelry he wanted to place himself.
Caleb found himself staring helplessly as Essek hung chains of silver and platinum from each ear, pinned cufflinks into nearly-invisible buttonholes at his sleeves, and draped a string of diamonds around his waist. He was gorgeous, with armor as strong as anything his friends in the Mighty Nein could wear. It was a glorious sight to behold.
"You look untouchable," Caleb said softly.
Essek turned, poised as ever. There was a faint color in his cheeks, but nothing else in his expression betrayed his feelings on Caleb's murmured truth. "That is rather the point," he admitted in kind. "To be a public figure of my standing, one must actively repel unwanted advances, or else seem to invite them."
Caleb understood. He had never held a public office, but watching Essek juggle the wants of multiple politicians, as well as the orders of his queen and his own academic pursuits, well. It was enough to make anyone wary.
"I hope you..." Essek began, then stopped. "I hope you will still touch me."
Caleb instantly raised a hand to press against the small of Essek's back, where he knew a teardrop ruby hung from a chain down his spine. He could not feel it through all the layers, but he knew his touch pressed the cool gem against Essek's skin more firmly. "Of course, Schatz. I will do anything you ask."
"It will be unseemly to the court," Essek hummed, almost to himself. "Even lovers do not touch more than hands in public. But you are of the Empire, so allowances will be made for your habits. Plus, I admit, part of me would like to cause a stir."
Caleb stepped closer. "You want them to know you are taken, Ja? That they cannot have you."
"Quite," Essek said, somehow still managing to sound unaffected. But the color in his cheeks remained, and Caleb was smart enough to put the pieces together. He knew the truth.
"Shall we?" Caleb asked, offering his hand to his lover. Essek took it and stood, regal, then clicked his fingers to begin floating.
"We shall," Essek agreed. Caleb felt like the luckiest man alive as he strolled out of their rooms to face the Kryn court.