Archive of Our Own ^beta

Caleb is caught up in the chaos that often accompanies his friends. What was initially meant to be a trip to pick up some groceries and other supplies has quickly turned into a free-for-all shopping trip. He’s quickly lost sight of Jester; she had mentioned something about a bakery to Veth before she and the halfling woman disappeared into the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yasha looking at a window display for a shop that sells clothing with floral patterns, Beau by her side. He’s now trailing behind Caduceus and Fjord, the only two left who are actually trying to pick up food for the week. 

The group has only been in Rosohna for a few months, which is enough time that they’ve found a place to rent and have somewhat steady work. When the usual odd jobs in the city dry up, they’re perfectly capable of grabbing a bigger bounty for some monster or other near the city to get by. They all prefer not to fight when they can help it, but they do what they have to. Their exit from the Empire was swift and desperate. None of them want to end up in a vulnerable position again.

Rosohna is a good city, though, and perhaps Caleb had initially suggested it due to old memories of being told of the city of endless night, but it has been working out for them all so far. Standing in the Gallimaufry district now, he really can feel the wonder he did when he heard about it as a child. The city is old, and it really shows here. The merchant district is a combination of buildings from different styles and periods, some modernized and others looking much like they did decades and even centuries prior. The lights, sounds, and smells tell the story of a society that has gained much from the millennia it has had to reach out and learn from other cultures. 

He smiles to himself, hands deep in his pockets as he watches Caduceus and Fjord discuss what they need and have the money for right now. He and his friends are currently in a good place. They’re safer than they have been in some time, with enough money and stability to have cell phones and other luxuries the group wouldn’t have dreamed of six months ago, and they’re all pretty happy with where they’re at right now.

Caleb has turned to watch Beau and Yasha catch up with the three of them when he hears a soft gasp, and, from behind him, a familiar voice calls, “Bren?”

His eyes go wide at the name used, and he freezes in place on instinct. He wracks his brain trying to place the voice and accent, he knows they sound familiar and not of the Empire so how– And then he realizes. There’s really only one person that it could be.

He whirls around and comes face-to-face with Essek Thelyss. 

The drow is about two decades older than he was when Caleb last saw him, but he would recognize that face anywhere. He’s looking back with the same shock reflected, the total surprise of finding someone you had long since resigned yourself to never seeing again, because you were sure you would never find them. 

It goes like this: when Essek was young, he lived in the Empire with his father. Compared to the finery the Thelyss family is typically known for, they had a small, rustic house that sat at the edge of a forest. He hadn’t entirely understood, back then, why he’d had to move, just that his parents were separating, and that Verin would stay with his mother while he moved away with his father. While his mother and the rest of his den were always very cold, his father was never much warmer. He usually got left to his own devices while his father was busy, which seemed to be always.

So he ended up wandering the woods, exploring. It was inevitable, and anyone who cared to know anything about children would realize that, which Essek had always thought said a lot about his father’s abilities as a parent. He got lost one day after wandering after a rabbit he’d seen hopping off further into the woods. When he lost sight of the rabbit and realized he was far into the trees with no idea how he’d gotten there, he sat down and started to cry. He’d tried his best to hold back the tears, of course, just like any good member of his den, but he was young and confused and didn’t know where he was, so it was a losing battle. 

This is, of course, when another little boy came across him. He had vibrant red hair and pale skin dotted all over with little brown freckles, his round ears marking him clearly as human. He went right over to Essek to comfort him, first speaking in a language he had only recognized as the local language, but had switched to common when it was clear Essek couldn’t understand him. He introduced himself as Bren, a boy around his age, and offered to lead him out of the woods. He apparently knew exactly where Essek’s house was, calling it “the big house on the other side of the forest,” and had been curious about the place since learning someone had moved in, but his parents had told him not to disturb the new residents. He thought meeting Essek was a treat. 

On the walk, the boys had become fast friends, sharing a similar curiosity and love of learning, especially when it came to magic. Delivering Essek home was punctuated with a promise for them to meet the next day. They did, and continued to do so, days turning into weeks turning into years. Essek met Bren’s parents, who took to the young drow immediately because of how much their son cared for him, though as time went on their concern for Essek’s relationship with his largely absent father only became more obvious. For his part, Essek’s father knew that Bren existed with only slight disdain for the human. As far as he was concerned, as long as neither bothered him, it did not matter. Essek always preferred spending time with the Ermendruds, anyway. As the years passed and Una and Leofric became better parents to him than his own had ever even tried to be, this only became more true.

The boys grew up together, years passing in a blur as both spent as much time together as they could. They shared books of all kinds, from books on magic to a book of fairytales. Essek picked up on Zemnian quickly and even taught Bren some Undercommon in return. They were each other’s firsts: first friend, first dance, first crush, first kiss, first love. Even if neither of them ever confessed their feelings. The kiss itself was posed as more of an experiment than a confession, though the mere idea made both of their pulses quicken anxiously. They never spoke a word about it afterward. 

Eventually, though, inevitably, they were separated. Bren was going to go to the Soltryce Academy to foster his talent in magic, and Essek’s mother was demanding he come back to the Dynasty to learn at the Marble Tomes Conservatory, now that he had shown a suitably impressive aptitude for magic. They were to be parted, but they both promised it would not be forever. They promised to write to each other and meet again when they were both the wizards they had dreamed of becoming since they were small. It was a sorrowful goodbye, but with the hope of reunion. 

And for a while, it worked. They would write to each other about what life was like now, embellishing the fun parts and excluding the hard ones, sharing what they learned, discussing the merits of different schools of magic. The boys would get so excited about the correspondence, often it was the highlight of their week. Eventually, Bren mentioned being chosen for a special program. It was something exciting, something new, though he didn’t communicate many details. 

That was the last letter Essek ever received from him. 

For years Essek would wonder. Did something happen to him? Was he just so busy that he forgot about their letters? The thoughts of his old friend became less and less frequent over the years, especially after, at the behest of his mother, he started to isolate himself from his peers. It was no real hardship. They didn’t have the love or passion for magic the way Essek and Bren did. Truth be told, they were all rather pretentious about the whole thing. When tensions between the Dynasty and the Empire worsened, Essek worried. He hoped that, wherever his friend was, he was safe, the way he himself was in the halls of the conservatory. It would be many years before he would get any closure.

Many years before they would come face-to-face in Rosohna’s merchant district, amidst the bustle of citygoers and tourists, like they were seeing ghosts. Ghosts that each had forgotten to even look out for.

“Essek,” Caleb whispers in shock. He’s being flooded by emotions that have been buried for decades now. There is surprise and confusion and no small amount of anxiety, but there is also deep love and affection and relief . He no longer has to wonder if he will ever see Essek again, because the drow is standing right in front of him. 

Essek’s eyes travel up and down Caleb’s form, as if trying to figure out if he’s truly there or an illusion of some sort, before he surges forward to wrap him in a hug. They fit against each other almost the same way they did when they were last together, when they were teenagers, Essek’s head tucked perfectly into the crook of Caleb’s neck where he can rest his cheek on the top of the drow’s head. When he hugs back it’s practically muscle memory, like his body remembers exactly how it is supposed to hold his old friend.

“Bren, I never thought I would see you again,” Essek murmurs into his shoulder. “ Du hast mir gefehlt .” 

The last part is whispered in Zemnian, like a confession. I missed you . Somehow, that ends up finally cementing that Essek is genuinely here in his arms. Caleb had hoped, of course, when they moved to Rosohna, that he might see his old friend again. But it was a distant hope, the kind attached to a dream that he had long since realized would never come true. But now, there is something about hearing the language he and his parents helped teach his friend that snaps the last thread of control he had. He starts crying, silent sobs that only really show with the way his shoulders shake. For his part, Essek just runs a hand up and down his back and whispers comforting words into his ear.

It takes a while, but the tears finally dry up and Caleb extricates himself from the arms of his oldest friend. He doesn’t go far, only arm’s length, but Essek makes sure to keep hands gripped on both of his arms, reticent to let go of him. His expression is searching as he looks at Caleb’s face. 

“Your hair is shorter,” Caleb says at last, and Essek lets out a huff of a laugh.

It’s true, though. When they were boys, Essek’s hair was long and braided, as is often the custom for his people. He had ended up teaching Caleb how to do the braids he always wore and what they meant in his culture. Now, though, it’s a short undercut, buzzed in the back and longer on top. It looks amazing on him.

“Yours is longer,” Essek points out.

Caleb smiles and runs his fingers down his ponytail absentmindedly. “I suppose it has been a long time.”

The drow looks up at him, his eyes sad and wistful. “It has,” he whispers, those two words full of a tenderness and longing Caleb doesn’t want to think about for too long. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns his head to see Caduceus has approached, an easy smile on his face. Beyond him, he can see the rest of the Mighty Nein crowded together and looking on with concern, Jester and Veth having apparently shown up during his brief crying fit. Veth in particular has an expression that is both worried and near murderous. She’s never liked anything that upsets him.

“Did you want to introduce your friend, Caleb?” Caduceus asks gently. 

Caleb looks back at Essek, whose eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion as he mouths his name, and, ah, that will be a hard one to explain later. He gives his friend what he hopes is a reassuring smile and lays a hand on his shoulder as he turns to face the group, keeping that point of contact. 

“This is Essek, we grew up together in Blumenthal,” he says, and watches as Beau and Fjord exchange a look, and Veth gives him a concerned frown. “Essek, these are my friends, the Mighty Nein.”

Essek gives him a little smile, a look in the eye that he recognizes from when they were boys and he had done something that particularly amused the drow. “It is an honor to meet you all,” he tells them, dipping his head slightly in that very proper way of his.

Essek has always been overly polite and formal, though it was often a facade that carefully hid his dry wit and humor, but as he watches, Caleb can see the ways in which he is slightly more stiff than he was before. It’s in his posture, the tightness around his eyes, and the carefully crafted smile he wears. The years with his mother must have taken their toll. Caleb himself has never personally met Deirta Thelyss, but even all the way in the Zemni Fields, her influence was always felt. He had never been fond of the woman from the stories he had heard, and he finds that his opinion has certainly not changed.

“Any friend of Caleb’s is a friend of ours!” Jester says, bounding up with a bright smile on her face.

“It’s always nice to see a friendly face,” Caduceus agrees easily.

“What are you doing in Rosohna?” Essek asks, looking at Caleb.

The Nein turn to him as well, letting him decide how much he wants to disclose to his old friend. He is both grateful to them and, simultaneously, desperately does not want to be the one to answer.

“We ran into some… let us just say trouble, in the Empire, and decided perhaps it was prudent to relocate,” Caleb explains finally, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “We were already heading in this direction, and I remembered your stories of your birthplace and suggested that perhaps we come here.”

Essek, who had looked suspicious when he mentioned the reasons for their relocation, lets his face soften into a soft smile at his words. The, I hoped to see you again, went unspoken, but undoubtedly there for someone who knew him as well as Essek did. Or, had known him. Before everything happened. He quickly suppresses the thought.

“I am glad you found your way here,” the drow tells him, sincerity and relief rolling off him in waves. “If you’d like, I–”

He stops suddenly, brows furrowing as he pulls something from the pocket of his long dark peacoat. It’s a phone, a sleek, dark one that looks like it costs a fortune. He squints at the screen and swears under his breath in Undercommon. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to get going,” Essek says, looking up at Caleb apologetically. “If you’d like I could give you my phone number? I would like to meet up again.”

“If you give me yours I can put my information in,” he offers, finding himself desperate to keep this point of contact. 

It’s interesting how time and distance can both heighten and dull how much you miss someone, Caleb thinks. He hasn’t seen Essek in so long that it’s made the absence of him in his life stark, yes, but also distanced him from the memories of why exactly he was so important, and what things about him that he missed. Now, though, with the drow man standing right in front of him, he remembers. He missed the ease of conversation between them, the way Essek’s eyes lit up when something truly delighted him, the way he bites his lip when he gets nervous, in a way that lets just one of his sharp canines peek out. There are new parts that are unfamiliar to him now, of course, but he finds himself excited to discover those and come to love them with all the rest.

With Essek’s phone in his hands, it’s easy to input his phone number, though the name does give him pause for a moment. He isn’t Bren anymore, but Essek doesn’t know that. This is neither the time nor the place for that discussion, so he puts in his old name and saves the contact, handing the phone back to the drow.

Essek accepts the phone with a smile and another hug. “I will send you a message tonight, I promise. It was very good to see you again, ta’ecelle .” 

“You as well, isilme ,” he replies quietly as the drow turns to leave. He gets one good look at the shocked expression on Essek’s face before the man is swallowed by a stream of people. 

There are only two beats of silence before Caleb is converged upon with rapid-fire questions. He waves them all off, and even when they quiet some, the Nein still exchange glances while trying to piece together what just happened. He will get no rest until he gives them some form of answer, so he keeps it as simple as possible.

“That was Essek. We were friends when we were boys, but we haven’t seen each other since I left for the academy and he left for schooling here. No, he does not know what happened. I would prefer to keep it that way for now,” Caleb tells them, moving forward and not looking back at the group.

Caduceus keeps to his side. He appraises Caleb with keen eyes, but just nods his head in acceptance. On Caleb’s other side, Beau looks at him with narrowed eyes. She knows there’s more to the story, and she doesn’t look like she will be letting it go any time soon, but this is nothing new. She has always been able to see right through him. It’s Jester sidling up to him with a wide grin on her face that catches him off guard. 

“Did you guys date?” she asks excitedly. “Were you in love ?”

He gives her a wan smile, though it does make his heart clench to think about how much he cares for Essek. “I am sorry to disappoint, but we never dated. We were only very good friends.”

She frowns a little but bounces back quickly. “That’s okay. It’s good to have friends, too!”

“ Ja , it is,” he agrees, heart warmed as always by her genuine kindness.

When everyone has started to back off a bit, it is Veth who gets his attention next, with just a hand on his arm. “Caleb, was that the friend you told me about? From when you were a boy?” she asks, brow furrowed and lips pursed in concern.

He simply nods in answer. Back in the early days, he would sometimes tell tales of his younger years to her. It kept the memories alive, and some of their adventures made good stories. He never used names or anything identifying, but it was a small piece of himself that he could share to show he trusted the woman.

“Did you know he would be in Rosohna?” Veth questions.

“I had hoped, but I didn’t think I would actually see him again,” he tells her, looking her in the eye to let her know he’s being honest.

“Do you want to?” Her voice is soft, but there is something hard underneath it. If she thought he didn’t, the drow would never get anywhere near Caleb ever again. It is unnecessary, but it does make him feel loved, in the strange way Veth always manages.

“Yes. I have always wondered how he was doing, and I would like to find out,” he says.

She scrutinizes him for a moment before nodding her approval. She just turns around to say something to Fjord that makes him squawk in indignation; she’s taking the pressure off of Caleb where she can, and he is grateful. He loves his friends dearly, but he needs time to think.

By the time Essek finally gets home, he’s exhausted. He enjoys most of what he does – the research is interesting, he gets to delve deep into subjects that excite him and could very well open new paths in dunamancy, and even the classes he teaches are mostly enjoyable. While teaching isn’t something he had thought he would like, it is satisfying to explain something he is an expert in to those who would like to advance their knowledge, as well as make sure he is always familiar with the fundamentals that are oft left at the wayside when one goes deeper into more specialized fields. What he does not like, however, is the endless bureaucracy that academia comes hand in hand with.

Essek moves to the kitchen and puts his kettle on the stove to make tea as he starts on some of his range-of-motion exercises. While levitation helps keep him mobile, the nerve damage still means that he has to do regular exercises to make sure his joints and muscles are moving properly. He’s lucky to have a job that doesn’t necessitate a lot of walking in the first place. So, he does what his healer taught him, starting from top to bottom with his regimented amount of head tilts, and slowly works his way down his body. By the time he is finished with his ankle rotations, his tea is steeped and at the perfect temperature to enjoy.

He wonders how he’ll explain it to Bren (Or– What was it his friends called him? Caleb?). The man would never judge him, he knows that much about him, but it is always complicated to explain his condition to people. Fielding questions, some more polite than others, gets tedious after a while, if not downright annoying. But he does want to be able to share with Bren. He was able to trust him with anything for nearly a decade, and he would like to have that closeness again. 

Essek sips his tea and takes his phone out. He stares at the empty textbox for a few minutes before finally sending a message.

>It seems you have learned more Undercommon since we last saw each other.<

He makes himself send it before he overthinks his words too much. If he lets himself do that, it will be another week before he actually contacts Bren. Though formalities come to him naturally and make him want to reread the message so that he can break down the simple sentence into all of the different ways it could be interpreted, he makes himself set his phone down and enjoy his tea.

It takes a few minutes, but he does finally get a reply, the alert on his phone startling him so much that he almost sloshes tea over the side of the mug. 

>I am more or less fluent now, though it was largely book-learned, so I cannot make any promises about my pronunciation.<

He’s trying to come up with a response that doesn’t sound too snide or overly familiar when his phone buzzes with another message.

>I will admit my choice to learn was mostly nostalgic. I hoped to surprise you, were we to meet again.<

While Essek had known there was very little reason for him to learn the language other than memories of their friendship, the words still warm his heart nonetheless.

>I suppose that you will be pleased to learn that you succeeded in surprising me. On multiple counts, I suppose. I truly never expected to see you again.<

He bites his lip, thinking of the nearly two decades they had missed of each other’s lives. He knows that Bren has missed so much of his life; the accident, his distant relationship with his Den and the rest of the higher echelons of the society he was indoctrinated into, his fraught relationship with his mother, and his father’s death. He wonders just how much he has missed of the other man’s life. 

>In truth, I didn’t either. When we moved here, I hoped that maybe it would happen, but new it was a distant hope. I am glad to be wrong.<

Essek chuckles to himself. He and Bren have always been on the same wavelength, and it is good to know that even though so much has changed between them, some things are universal. He had the same thought over the years, missing his friend with no real way of finding him. He is not one who typically believes in fate, but he thinks he can get behind the concept if it continues to bring this man into his life.

>I am glad as well. I was thinking that perhaps we could have lunch sometime to catch up?<

The reply is nearly immediate.

>I would love that.<

Caleb makes sure all of his things are in place before he leaves his room. His spellbook is strapped to his side, his phone tucked into his pocket alongside his wallet, spell components on his belt in case of emergency, and his coat and scarf are in place. He has everything he needs. It is good to have everything together before he is accosted by his well-meaning friends. 

Any mention of Essek is met with coy and knowing looks from the whole household. It only took Jester overhearing Caleb discussing the upcoming lunch meeting with Beau for it to become the talk of the Xhorhaus. He’s been cornered into plenty of sweet, if unnecessary, conversations about this with his friends. He’d only mentioned to Beau that he was nervous to see the man after so long apart, but apparently Jester had spread that with the rest of the news. 

When he makes it down the stairs into the main hall, he is immediately greeted by Jester, Veth, and an apologetic-looking Fjord. Upon hearing his entrance, Jester turns with a wide grin. Veth just walks up and starts fussing.

“Do you have everything you need?” she questions as she straightens out his coat and adjusts his scarf. 

He smiles softly at the woman and lets her do what she will, going so far as to stoop over a little bit so she can reach better. “Yes, I do,” he assures her. 

She frowns up at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to put your hair up?”

“I could braid it!” Jester suggests brightly.

“Thank you for the offer, but I am okay. It is just lunch with an old friend. I will be fine,” Caleb says, looking directly at Veth.

She continues to frown at him skeptically. “You have your phone on you, right?” 

He pulls his battered little flip phone out of his pocket and waves it a little. “Yes, and I will make sure to call you if I require your assistance, though I am certain nothing of the sort will come up,” he promises. 

Veth’s expression softens just ever so slightly. “Alright. But just say the word and I’ll come to kick his ass!”

While she’s mostly joking (he hopes), Caleb knows that she worries about him. Having each other’s backs is instinctual at this point, and deeply engrained into the core of their friendship. She has nothing to fear other than, perhaps, him being disappointed by his old friend, but if their text conversations in the past few days are anything to go by he doesn’t expect that will be the case. 

“I know you will,” he tells her with a smile. 

Fjord steps forward and puts a hand on Jester’s shoulder. “Let the poor man leave, will you?” He looks to Caleb, who gives him a grateful look. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Have fun!” Jester says with a wide grin. She’s been excited about Caleb seeing Essek again since they met him, though he’s pretty sure she’s concocted some great romance plot in her head. Reassurances to the contrary do nothing to stop her imagination, though he supposes she wouldn’t be Jester if it did. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Veth shouts after him. 

Caleb laughs as he shuts the door behind him, knowing that doesn’t narrow down his options all that much. He goes down the route he’d memorized to the cafe in his head one more time before he steps out onto the sidewalk. At least the walk will do something to deal with some of his nervous energy. He summons Frumpkin so he doesn’t start digging his nails into his arms. 

He feels a little stupid for being so nervous. He did spend most of his childhood with Essek, and he knows that they get along. The somewhat short conversations that they’ve had since have shown that they both share an interest in magic and magical theory, especially when it comes to spellcrafting and modifying spells. It makes sense considering the many hours they spent as boys pouring over magical texts and talking about their grand plans for what they would do with their magic when they grew older. It seemed that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Still, there was a nearly two decade gap in their friendship and Essek had missed– Well, he’d missed some big events that Caleb wasn’t looking forward to discussing. 

Frumpkin merely lets out a single meow before crawling up to lay around his neck, purring loudly the whole time. He sighs, letting out his stress with it. It’s okay, because, regardless, he has support. The Mighty Nein will have his back as they always do, no matter how this plays out. 

Caleb looks up at the sign on the cafe and scratches Frumpkin on the head one last time before sending him away. He heaves a big breath and opens the door. The place he enters is nice, but not overly so. It’s cozy with sleek counters and lanterns and strings of lights hung from the ceiling. There are tables and comfortable chairs dotted around the space, and he spots a bookshelf tucked into the back corner with worn volumes resting on its shelves. 

It takes no time to spot Essek sitting at a table tucked to the side of the room. Even with the reasonable amount of traffic in the cafe for the time of day, Caleb can spot the man anywhere. He’s in a slightly sheer dark blue button-down shirt and dark grey slacks, with his black peacoat hung over the back of his chair. His eyes are looking down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed at whatever is on the screen.

He makes his way over, smiling. “I hope I did not keep you waiting for too long.”

Essek’s head snaps up, and he takes in Caleb’s presence. A smile creeps onto his face, and his entire demeanor seems to soften. 

“Don’t worry, I got here early. It is good to see you.”

Caleb sits, taking off his long coat as he does and revealing a worn dark green sweater with orange cat hair stuck to it. He’s had Frumpkin as a familiar long enough that he never really notices anymore, but he can’t help but scrutinize his own appearance when faced with Essek. What must his immaculately dressed friend think when he sees him in frayed, secondhand clothes?

“You as well,” Caleb replies, smiling warmly. “It really has been a pleasant surprise to have the opportunity to reunite like this.”

Essek nods, looking as happy as he has ever seen the drow. “It is. I must confess, I have wondered many times what you have been up to and how you have been doing over all these years,” he reveals, hands wrapped around what appears to be a latte. He frowns slightly and looks back up at him. “I actually had a question.”

It is a struggle not to completely freeze in place. He came here knowing he would have to answer questions about his past, but that doesn’t mean the idea of it doesn’t scare him. There are many things he is not ready to reveal to Essek, not so soon after meeting him again.

“Of course,” he says.

“Your friends, they called you Caleb,” he starts, a divot forming between his eyebrows. “Would you like me to call you that as well?”

Caleb fidgets with his hands. “Ah, yes, if you would. These days people will know me as Caleb, and it will help us both avoid confusion. I have not been Bren in many years.” 

Essek only nods in response, nothing in his expression to indicate that he has sensed that anything is especially amiss. They are luckily interrupted by a server taking their orders, Caleb telling Essek to order for him because he was never picky as a boy, and he certainly isn’t now. 

When the server has gone and Caleb has a hot coffee sitting in front of him he asks, “So, what is it that you do these days?”

Essek perks up at this. “I’m at the Marble Tomes Conservatory. Mostly I teach classes, but I do have some time dedicated to research. I’ve been able to invent a few spells of my own, actually,” he tells Caleb, speaking with an energy that is incredibly familiar.

“I am happy for you, my friend,” he says, a genuine smile on his face. “It’s all we ever dreamed of as boys. I assume your area of expertise is dunamancy?” 

“Yes, graviturgy specifically,” Essek answers. “When I started school here I got access to so much knowledge about magic and dunamancy, in particular, was fascinating. Using magic to manipulate the workings of the universe. It really was beyond any of our imaginings as children.”

And just like that, Essek is off talking about magical theory, enthusiastically gesturing with his hands as he explains complicated concepts that he clearly understands with ease. Caleb is listening intently, filing it all away to be examined alongside what else he knows of dunamancy at a later time. Mostly he is focusing on Essek himself, the way his ornate earrings sway as he talks, how bright his eyes look as he talks about his passion, and the way his sleeves are rolled up to show off his forearms. Even when their food arrives (sandwiches with a small bowl of soup that reminds him of meals they ate in his little house as children), he only pauses briefly to take a bite of his food before he’s off again. It’s endlessly endearing and makes him smile.

Caleb realizes the danger of this, of course. It would be so easy to fall back in love with Essek. As far as he can see, the man in front of him is close enough to the boy he knew and loved that it wouldn’t even be difficult. He’s never been good at letting things go. But it would be doomed to failure from the start, because he would have to tell Essek about what happened after he left, and the man would never feel the same way after that. 

Essek seems to catch himself after a while. “Ah, but I have gone on for a long time. What have you been doing? I do wonder what landed you in Rosohna.”

He sets his sandwich to the side, trying to decide what to disclose while he finishes chewing. “My friends and I are renting a house on the edge of the Gallimaufry. A lot of us are just doing odd jobs. Jester spends her days working in a bakery, Veth is at a small apothecary, things like that. When money gets tight sometimes we’ll do bounties to make ends meet, whatever we have to.”

“Bounties?” Essek asks, eyes wide.

“Ja , usually someone needs to get rid of a monster for some reason or another, and my friends and I became adept at killing them as we traveled together,” he says with a shrug. “We get by, and usually it’s good money. We would rather not if we can help it, but it doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I must say it surprises me to hear that you adventure for money,” Essek confesses. “I always imagined your pursuits would be of the more… academic variety.”

Caleb gives him a wan smile. “Unfortunately, it is not always easy to focus on academics and pay the bills. As it is I can only spend some of my time teaching magic to some children in the Coronas.” His smile turns genuine at this. “It doesn’t pay much, but I enjoy it too much to stop. If I have to use my magical capabilities to kill monsters so that I can continue to teach, so be it.”

“So what is your specialty? I had always wondered which school you would land on,” the drow asks.

“Transmutation magic is my specialty, though I have some skill in evocation as well,” he answers, feeling much more comfortable discussing magic. It is well-tread ground between the two of them, as well as something he feels confident discussing.

This makes Essek give him a fond grin. “I should have known. It is the school with the most flexibility, the most room for creativity and change. It is perfect for you.”

The words send a feeling of relief flowing through him. It’s a confirmation that though he has changed much, maybe some of the boy he once was still lives on in him. His oldest friend recognizes him in even the way he does magic, which is the closest thing to his soul that he has. It’s almost a validation that he chose right when he tried to pick back up the pieces and relearn the art.

“Ah, Danke , Essek. It has done well for me and given me the tools to tinker with spells where I can. All magic is personal, but I find that understanding the intricacies of transmutation lets me make bigger changes than those that come naturally from different individuals. It just takes a bit of working through,” Caleb begins to explain.

The drow just looks at him with a smile, lunch set to the side as he looks at his friend affectionately. The expression on his face makes Caleb pause in his explanation. 

“Ah, sorry. I don’t want to bore you with things that you already know,” he says, his face growing just a bit hot. He can’t believe he’s trying to explain basic magic theory to someone who actually finished their schooling and teaches at a high level, in a lesser-known and complex school of magic no less. 

Essek waves away his worries with a hand. “No, that’s not it. It’s just nice getting to watch you be excited about magic once again. I missed it. I missed you .”

Something in Caleb’s chest melts at the words and he smiles warmly. “I missed you, as well. I am glad fate has brought us together once again,” he replies. 

This, however, causes Essek to make a sour expression. “I don’t know if I subscribe to the idea of fate,” he admits. “My time in the Dynasty especially has put me off of it. Not just because I practice dunamancy, either, but because of how it is talked about as fact here, an absolute.” He pauses, considering. “But if some grand design has brought our paths together again, I cannot help but find myself grateful.”

There is something there, in those few sentences, that shows just a piece of a deep hurt in Essek. Something about this place, this culture, has hurt him and made him bitter. Caleb recognizes it in him as he does in himself. Clearly, Essek has not made it through these years unscathed. The only question is how far down the hurt goes.

“Whatever it may be, we are here, now.” Caleb pauses and smiles, a warm feeling taking residence in his chest. “Together.” 

The light comes back to Essek’s eyes at that. “Yes. Together at last.” He says it like it is a revelation, an inevitability, a hope. Like it means everything.

Essek lays the paper he was reading down on his desk and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will fix the oncoming headache that is sure to come. He enjoys teaching, he does, but introductory dunamancy courses are always the toughest for him. Students are more often than not too excited to get to the practical applications of actually performing magic to allow themselves the time to truly grasp the basic concepts and theory. This is a dangerous mentality to have when it comes to a branch of magic as capable of destruction as dunamancy. When something goes wrong it is often to extremes. However, to take this class one must already have a fair footing in the arcane, which leads to students who are overconfident in their abilities and want to cut corners. These essays have been showcasing that exact tendancy, talking about what great feats the magic in question is capable of without acknowledging the possible consequences and caution required, not to mention a grasp of basics that is loose at best. 

He grabs his lesson planning notes and makes a note to move up the lecture on the consequences of not being careful to the next class. He tries to give his students the benefit of the doubt, but it’s impossible to predict. Some classes are simply more cautious than others. He keeps the first month of the course flexible for this exact reason. It would not do to let his students make the mistakes he has.

He’s busy thinking about how he’s going to have to go over his powerpoint to make sure everything is up to date when he hears someone clear their throat. He looks up to see Caleb standing right in front of his desk with a wry smile on his face. 

“Caleb!” Essek squeaks. He stops, clearing his throat and straightening up in his seat, and tries again. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

The man’s smile just widens, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I wasn’t sneaking around, you were just engrossed in your notes,” Calebs tells him, looking curiously at the papers strewn across his desk. 

“Yes, I was just thinking about lesson plans,” he says, straightening up the papers on his desk. “But what did you need? I didn’t think we had plans to meet today.”

“We don’t,” he confirms. “But I had been at a library nearby and I figured I might drop in.” He laughs. “Of course, when I told my friends this they insisted I come by to invite you to dinner.”

Essek blinks a little. “Dinner. Would I be expected to bring anything?” he asks, already going through a list of things he could grab in his head. He probably wouldn’t have time to stop by his apartment, but if they go through the Gallimaufry perhaps–

“No, just yourself,” Caleb assures him, and when he looks up, the man has a fond look on his face that says he knows exactly what mental math Essek was just doing. He has been seeing it a lot as the pair have been reconnecting. It’s simultaneously endearing and infuriating.

Luckily, he remembers something he got as a gift from a colleague and opens up the drawer in his desk, and pulls out a bottle of Diamond Plum Wine. “I would hate to be a rude guest,” the drow says, smirking slightly at his friend.

Caleb rolls his eyes slightly but lets out a short laugh. “So I take it you would like to come to dinner?”

“Yes. I have heard much about your friends, but I only saw them in passing,” he says, fiddling with the bottle of wine in his hands a little nervously. “You say they are important to you, like family, so I would like to get to know them.”

Caleb’s whole face softens at that, the joking air leaving him entirely as he rounds the desk to put a hand on Essek’s arm. “They know you are important to me as well,” he promises. “They will like you. I promise, isilme .” 

Essek feels his face grow warm. It’s stupid, really, but he can’t help it. Caleb uses the pet name sparingly. It is enough for it to be recognizable, but not enough for him to have figured out how to ask the other man about it. Not that there’s much to tell, he supposes. Essek has called Caleb ta’ecelle since they were children. Sunlight . It was always a joke between them that he would never reveal to Caleb what it meant. But Caleb has now learned Undercommon and calls him its twin. Isilme, or moonlight.

“Ah, you know me,” he remarks, standing and putting the wine bottle in his wristpocket. “I am always nervous when meeting new people.”

“I will be by your side the whole time,” Caleb assures him. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Essek replies, smiling slightly as he packs his things away. 

He straightens up and a jolt of pain goes down his left leg, and he winces. He watches as Caleb catalogs this out of the corner of his eye. It’s happened around him before, because Essek lives with chronic pain and has been spending as much time as he can manage with Caleb over the last few months. Caleb has never said anything about it, never asked about it directly, only ever asked quiet questions about slight accommodations he could make, and then listened intently to the answer, whatever it may be.

“It is a long walk. If today is a bad day we can try to reschedule,” Caleb says, looking him directly in the eye with a soft look of concern.

Essek just shakes his head. “It’s not a bad day, I was just sitting too long. I can float and it will be fine.” Caleb, bless him, just nods and drops the subject. No intrusive questions, no disbelief, or questioning if he truly knows his limits. It’s refreshing compared to much of what he’s been dealing with for the last decade. 

Essek slowly stretches his bad leg, testing it. There is a little bit of pain that flares into his thigh, and there’s a patch of numbness near his hip. Massaging it some restores most of the sensation, though a light buzzing sensation persists. Something to be careful of, for sure, but nothing detrimental. Mumbling the words under his breath and tracing runes into the air takes the pressure off of his legs immediately, mitigating the problems for the most part. He sighs in relief and gathers his things, stowing his laptop and the papers he needs to grade into his bag.

Even as he dons his coat and grabs his bag, Caleb is quiet. He seems content to just watch, an analytical look in his eye as he watches Essek’s routine movements. Were it anyone else he would perhaps be nervous, but this is just another one of his friend’s familiar behaviors. Caleb has always been one to collect and store information. Essek has noticed over the years that he is the most careful with the tidbits he gathers about loved ones.  He makes sure to remember little routines and mannerisms so he can help and know what is normal for someone, always able to fit himself into those little spaces in their lives and know what will make things easier for those he cares about. He knows what order you gather your things in and when you are going to run out of something you use regularly. It is the way he has always shown he cares, in the little details. It is one of the many things Essek has always cherished about the man.

“Shall we go?” Essek asks, and Caleb just nods and makes to lead the way. 

Caleb didn’t lie. The walk is long and winding, but the two keep themselves occupied with their usual discussions, which range from the shenanigans of Caleb’s friends to theories on magic to teaching. While Caleb teaches children in a more informal setting, Essek can tell that he not only loves it but is a genuinely good teacher, which makes him smile. Some things about teaching are universal, and their enthusiasm for education and want to leave those they teach in a position to better themselves and the world around them is something easily shared.

Somewhere along the line, Caleb decides to summon his familiar, a cat named Frumpkin which looks very much like the one he knew growing up, on Essek’s shoulders. He has no complaints about this, he never does, and simply scritches the cat’s head as they walk. This is another sign of Caleb’s affection, he’s learned. He likes to summon his familiar for no other reason than to make people he cares about smile. Frumpkin is a source of comfort for him, so the wizard likes to share that comfort and warmth with others. 

“Here we are,” Caleb says as they reach the very edges of the Gallimaufry district, where it begins to mix with the Coronas. 

The house he leads Essek to is… run down, to put it kindly. The wooden Victorian house is clearly old and weathered, the tiles on the roof of the attached tower have clearly fallen off in places and the ratty railing on the porch is covered with overgrown ivy and some messy ferns surrounding it. It’s an amount of greenery that’s uncommon in the dark city, though he suspects they’re mostly kept alive by the glowing flasks strung up in the large tree in the yard. The most impressive thing about it is that the tree reaches up to the second story of the house, and that he hasn’t heard about it before, what with it being the only green tree in the city. 

Caleb follows his line of sight and laughs a bit. “Ah, yes. Our friend Caduceus is a follower of the Wildmother and he had a token that grew this tree.” He catches Essek’s eye and gives a wry smile. “Our neighbors hate us.”

Essek laughs. “I would imagine so,” he says, grinning back at his friend.

“Come, come,” Caleb beckons, gesturing back towards the house. “They are no doubt peeking through the curtains. They’re endlessly nosy and we don’t need to give them more to talk about.”

A glance towards the windows shows a flash of blue and the swaying of recently disturbed curtains. He looks back to give his friend a wry smile.

“I know them very well,” he tells Essek, in a tone that implies a silent, joking, Maybe too well .

“Then I am excited to see these people who you hold dear,” he says sincerely, just for the bright, fond smile that he knows will take up Caleb’s face at the notion. 

“And I am excited to introduce you to them,” the man says with that very smile.

Caleb leads them both onto the porch, which upon inspection has had the deck replaced recently so it is sturdy and not as dangerous to walk on as the appearance of the rest of the house may suggest. Caleb is about to open the door when it is flung open instead to reveal the bright blue tiefling he saw at the market. 

“Caleb!” she shouts, grinning all the while. “You got Essek to come!”

The man lets out a sigh, but he is smiling fondly at his friend. “Yes, I did, Jester. And I’m sure he would like to come in and sit down if you would let us through.”

Jester looks at him, a smile still on her face as she takes a step back and gestures into the house. “Of course! Come in, come in!”

They both step into the house, stopping to take off their shoes. Caleb directs Essek to take off his coat and hang it on a rack near the entryway, though curiously he doesn’t move to take his own off. When Frumpkin jumps off of Essek’s shoulder Jester scoops the familiar up and flounces deeper into the house.

“Caleb and Essek are here!” she yells, seemingly trying to make her voice loud enough for the whole house to hear her. The impressive part is that she doesn’t use any magic, it’s all just her own ability to project her voice. Perhaps the funniest thing of all is that Frumpkin doesn’t look bothered in the least by the volume, just sitting limply in her arms as if he has accepted his fate. 

Essek turns to Caleb once again with a raised eyebrow and he just laughs, a carefree expression on his face. He looks utterly comfortable in this space in a way Essek hasn’t seen since they were children. Caleb fits here if only because he himself feels like he belongs in this home. 

At the same time, a voice comes from the top of the stairs shouting, “Yeah, Jester, we all heard you the first time.” 

The woman coming down the stairs is darker-skinned with her hair pulled into a ponytail that shows off her undercut. She nods toward them. “Hey, Caleb.”

“Beauregard, I’m sure you remember Essek,” he says gesturing to the drow. “Essek, this is Beauregard Lionett.”

He sticks out a hand to shake on instinct, and while the woman raises an eyebrow at the motion she gives it a firm shake nonetheless. “Just call me Beau. I’m sure you’ve already heard a ton of stories about me doing dumb shit anyways,” she tells him.

Essek huffs a laugh at that. “While not untrue, I have also been told about your skill as an expositor and your physical talents. While I am not gifted as such, my brother is skilled in a fight, so I do have some appreciation for the art.”

Beau looks at Caleb. “You didn’t tell me he had a brother,” she says accusingly. 

“I have not met the man, so there was not much to say,” he replies, longsuffering in his tone. Evidently, Caleb has been thoroughly interrogated for everything he knows about him, likely by Beauregard herself.

“It’s not because Verin doesn’t want to meet you,” Essek assures. “He has wanted to meet you since we were children. However, he is stationed in Bazzoxan, which means that I rarely get to see him as it is.”

Caleb smiles down at him. “I believe you, Schatz .” 

The moment the endearment leaves his mouth Beau stares straight at him and raises her eyebrows pointedly. He gives her nothing but a blank look back. The exchange reminds Essek of countless times Verin has tried to needle him about anything and everything. Caleb had always said he wished he had a sibling. It seems like he’s found something like that now. He’s glad.

“I’m sorry, is he floating?” says a voice from the stairs. A glance up finds the source, a half-orc man with a streak of white in his hair and a look of bafflement on his face. 

Essek looks down, not even having realized he was still levitating. It’s such a normal part of his routine, and it’s been such a long time since anyone has commented on it. 

“Yes,” Caleb cuts in, looking Essek in the eye with an ‘I’ve-got-this’ smile. “He was when we met him at the market as well.”

“Was he really?” the half-orc asks, sounding utterly baffled and looking to Beau for assurance. 

She just gives him an incredulous look. “Yeah, dude. You were there the entire time, how did you not notice?”

“Essek, this is Fjord,” Caleb says, sounding amused. “I promise that he usually sounds more intelligent than this.”

Essek huffs a small laugh, hiding his smile behind a hand. Fjord turns with a squawk and shoves Caleb with his shoulder playfully. Despite being a relatively light shove it still manages to make Caleb take a couple of steps back. He’s never been the strongest person, and it seems that hasn’t changed in the intervening years.

Beau snorts. “C’mon Fjord, we wouldn’t wanna embarrass Caleb in front of his…” She pauses for a moment, her keen gaze flicking between the two wizards as she seems to search for a word to describe their relationship. “Essek,” she says finally, smirk on her lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, Essek can see the flush forming on Caleb’s cheeks and feels a matching heat on his own as he watches Beauregard wrap an arm around Fjord’s neck and drag him down the hall. If she calls anything back to them he cannot quite hear it over his own anxiety and mortification. He must be more obvious than he’d thought.

The pair stand in silence for a moment, or as silent as this house can get. Even just standing still, there are the distant sounds of pots and pans from deeper in the house and chatter coming from the adjacent rooms as everyone makes conversation. It’s a stark difference from how Essek grew up. The house where he and his father lived in Blumenthal was always nearly silent, with his father holed up in his office and Essek spending his time sequestered in his room, usually reading by himself when he was there. When he moved to Rohsona it was almost worse. Breaking the monotonous silence in the large, cavernous mansion he was moved to felt like some form of sacrilege. Most things there felt like sacrilege, really, when he considered what living with his mother had been like. This feels much more like a home than anything he’s used to.

“Everyone here is quite lively,” Essek says.

Caleb laughs. “Yes, we are a loud bunch. Don’t let that scare you off; they really are good people.”

Essek looks at Caleb, how open and happy he seems here, and thinks of how opposed that is to how withdrawn he acts when the pair of them are in public. He will have bursts of joy, sure, and he will laugh a little too loud or smile a little too openly before he seems to reign himself in, looking over his shoulder for whatever demons haunt him. There is a large gap in their history still where Essek doesn’t know what happened to his friend, but he can only imagine it’s something terrible from how much it seems to scare Caleb.

So Essek just shakes his head. “Lively is not bad. We were both lively, once. Your mother scolded us for being loud too many times for me to be able to judge others for it, I think.”

He sees it again, then. That split second of overwhelming sorrow before Caleb schools his features. At first, Essek thought it was from mentioning their childhoods in general, that whatever had happened had just tainted the idea of their young innocence. It seemed curious, because Essek would think the man would avoid him entirely if that were the case. In time, though, he’s determined that it is the mention of Caleb’s home and his parents that does it. He’s never asked directly; he sees the fear that he will in his friend’s eyes sometimes, and so he doesn’t. He does wonder, though. He’s afraid of what he will find.

“Ah, yes, we were very excitable children,” Caleb says, pasting an easygoing smile. “Come, friend, there are a few more here that you need to meet.”

The drow lets himself be led deeper into the house, passing through a dining room with a large table with mismatched dishes already set out, to the kitchen. While it is decently sized, the current occupants make it seem a little cramped as he and Caleb stand at the entrance. There’s a tall firbolg man standing at the stove in front of a large pot and at the counter next to him is a huge woman, as muscled as her friend is skinny, who seems to be in the midst of delicately slicing up a pie. 

The firbolg’s ear twitches and he turns around slowly, a lazy smile coming to his face. “Oh, hey, your friend made it. That’s nice.”

“Essek, this is Caduceus and the lovely woman standing next to him is Yasha,” Caleb introduces.

Yasha looks up as if startled. “Oh! Hello, it’s nice to meet you. Well, not meet you , meet you but– Oh, you know what I mean.” She pauses, fidgeting with her hands a little. “Uh, if you’d like a snack I have some bugs on the counter over there.” 

Essek looks where she’s pointing, a little startled at the abruptness of her topic change, to see that there is, in fact, a little bag of spiced crickets sitting on the counter. It isn’t something he’s indulged in for some time, mostly because he usually has them when Verin drags him to bars and his brother hasn’t visited in some time, but he does quite like them. So he obligingly grabs a few to snack on. This was the right choice if Yasha beaming at him is anything to go by.

“It’s nice to see someone who’s from Xhorhas, too. I think they all thought I was exaggerating about eating bugs being normal here until we actually moved to Rosohna,” Yasha says.

“I didn’t think it was that weird,” Caduceus replies.

“I defended you,” Caleb recalls. “But Veth and Jester were quite stuck in their own heads about it, it’s true. I think maybe it was because you were from the Wastes and not the big cities. You know how Jester was in the early days.”

Yasha laughs and nods.

“If you ever want to talk about home, I’m sure I could find some time for conversation,” Essek offers. “Admittedly, I do not know much about the Wastes, but I have talked to a few who have come from that direction.”

“That would be lovely,” the woman says with a big smile.

Caleb places a hand on Essek’s shoulder. “I have a few things to take care of before we have dinner. Feel free to make your way to the sitting room down the hall. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

Essek just nods and waves off the searching look on his face. It’s sweet of Caleb to be worried, but Essek has faced worse than a house of friendly strangers. As the red-haired man rushes up the stairs, Essek makes his way into the indicated hall. He silently counts in his head, realizing that he’s met five of the six. He’s trying to remember which one he hasn’t met yet when a figure comes upon him and promptly backs him into a wall with a crossbow.

“What are your intentions with my boy?” the fierce-looking halfling woman demands.

It takes Essek a moment to catalog the situation, which he thinks should be forgivable given the crossbow that’s been shoved in his face, but when he realizes what’s going on he asks, “Veth, correct?”

“Yes,” she answers warily. “Why do you need to know?”

“Nothing, Caleb has just told me a little about you. He says that you are his closest and dearest friend. It is nice to meet you.” He pauses, looking down at the crossbow once again. “I would shake your hand but I am somewhat unable to at the moment.”

Veth lowers the crossbow, eyes still narrowed. “You didn’t answer my question,” she accuses. 

“I understand your worry of ill intent, and I confess I do not know how to alleviate those concerns other than to say I intend to do nothing other than support Caleb in any way I am able,” he tells the woman solemnly. 

“That’ll do. For now,” the halfling allows before taking out a crossbow bolt and gesturing towards him with it. “But know this: if you hurt him or fuck with him in any way I’ll shove this bolt so far up your ass you’ll taste it. Got it?”

“Consider me informed,” Essek says, eyes wide and back pressed against the wall again.

She stares for a moment longer and whatever she finds on his face seems to satisfy her because she nods and walks off towards the stairs. He can do nothing but watch her in shock, still internally trying to grasp what that exchange meant, which means he sees exactly when she runs into Caleb, who is going down the stairs. 

“Veth, why do you have your crossbow out?” the human asks, tone indicating that he has a good guess and hopes it isn’t true. 

“No reason,” she answers, too quickly to be at all honest.

Caleb heaves a loud sigh. “I told you not to.”

“I know, I know. I just worry, Lebby.”

“I know you do, my friend, but there is no need. Essek has been nothing but a positive addition to my life, I promise.”

The drow begins to get the impression that this is a conversation he is not meant to be listening in on and turns into the sitting room. Inside, Fjord, Beau, and Jester are all seated on one of the couches talking. Jester is cuddled into Fjord’s side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Beau is perched on the arm of the couch on his other side.

Beau clocks him as soon as he enters the room and looks at him, assessing. “Did Veth corner you?” she asks, tone flat.

“Is her threatening people a normal occurrence?” Essek questions incredulously. 

The answers come disturbingly quickly.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh yeah, all the time.”

The drow opens and closes his mouth a few times, completely lost for words for the first time in his life. 

“You get used to it,” Fjord supplies, looking and sounding about as tired as Essek feels. 

“I suppose you would,” he says, sitting down on a nearby loveseat. 

Jester turns to him, a wide grin on her face. “So, we have all been wondering about you, but Caleb is super cagey about personal stuff and won’t tell us anything.”

“He’s told us quite a lot about Essek, actually,” Fjord interjects. 

Jester rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “I mean, yeah , but just, like, the boring stuff,” she complains. “I want to hear the fun stuff, like are you in a relationship? Do you have any cool hobbies? Who’s your mom? What’s she like?”

Essek's polite smile gets a little strained. “Ah, well if you asked him about my family, I can see why Caleb would not have gone into it. He is not a fan of my family and, frankly, neither am I.”

“I get that,” Beau says with a nod. “Why, though?”

Fjord looks like he’s about to interject so Essek just puts up a hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he assures. “When I was young my parents separated, so I did not see my mother for much of my younger years. It was only when I was a teenager that I was sent back to Xhorhas to be educated at the Marble Tomes, and at that time lived with my mother and brother again.” He sighs and makes a considering face. “We did not and do not get along. She thinks my time in the Empire corrupted me. I do not live up to her exact expectations and do not further the den in a way she approves of. I do not care. I have my own theories and research and live my life my own way.”

Fjord nods, Jester looks sad, and Beau gives him a considering look. When he meets it with a raised eyebrow, she simply says, “We might have more in common than I thought.” Her face is closed off, but he can sense the solidarity, and just gives her a nod in return. There is a camaraderie in having a strained relationship with family who should love you unconditionally. 

“Okay, okay, but, like, what about the juicy stuff,” Jester says with an impish look on her face. “You have to know, like, so many embarrassing childhood stories about Caleb, right?”

That makes Essek smirk a little. “As a matter of fact, I do indeed know many embarrassing stories about Caleb.”

“And he’s sworn to secrecy because I know just as many about him,” comes Caleb’s voice from the doorway. 

He enters the room and takes a seat next to Essek. His coat has been discarded to reveal a soft-looking maroon sweater. It’s old and worn, so the neckline is just stretched out enough that it reveals a little bit of collarbone and chest hair. The drow quickly averts his eyes. 

“Oh come on ,” Jester whines. “Not even one?”

“Unfortunately, there are few where I don’t also incriminate myself. Secrets will have to stay secret, for now,” Essek says enigmatically. 

“Sorry, Blueberry,” Caleb says, grinning. “Your plot to pry blackmail out of my oldest friend has failed.”

“For now,” Jester replies, a glint in her eye and the sharpness of her grin promising that this won’t be the last of it. She opens her mouth once again to delve into something new when the large form of Yasha steps into the doorway. 

“Dinner is ready.”

Dinner in the Mighty Nein’s home is always chaotic. Everyone is too loud and ravenously digging into the food and making a mess. It’s home. It’s warm and full of noise and people and love. 

Essek, for his part, does his best to keep up. Caleb makes sure to snag the dishes for him before the food is devoured by everyone else and gets a grateful look for his efforts. 

He makes headway into everyone’s good graces when he presents the expensive bottle of wine he brought with him. Those who drink are appreciative, especially Beauregard who notes that it’s, “a little on the sweet side for my taste, but good quality.”

While Caleb knows that Essek has experience with the less refined side of life from their childhood, he also knows that the Nein are something else altogether. They are his family, certainly, but they are also all assholes. He finds, though, that he should have never doubted his old friend. While at first he is somewhat stiff, he loosens up after a time, making little jokes in his own way (though much of the time only Caleb can tell when he’s making a joke) and watching the teasing and energy of the table with amusement. He even tries the black moss cupcake Jester insists he has, and the two of them share a grin when he says that he likes it. 

It seems like no time at all before Essek apologetically excuses himself from the table, citing a class he has to teach the next morning. The Nein groan in protest, but Caleb backs him up and offers to walk him home. As they make their way out, he catches Beau giving him a particular look that he meets with an utterly blank face. She will interrogate him about his feelings later, along with his other nosy friends, of this he has no doubt. 

The pair let themselves out of the rickety house and onto the street. It’s much less crowded than it was earlier, though there is a not insignificant amount of people wandering the streets. When the city is always dark, there tend to be people out at all hours. The air is brisk and biting, sobering them both up.

“I like them,” Essek says with his usual reserved little smile. “They are good people. I can see how they have become family to you.”

Caleb smiles back, immeasurably pleased. “They are that. We have very different backgrounds, but we are all the same sort of outcasts. We give each other support we may not get anywhere else.” He looks up at the twin moons and feels the breeze on his face. “We may not always be in close proximity, but we will always be there for each other. I believe that.”

“Good,” the drow says. When Caleb looks at him, he is looking back with warmth in his eyes. “I am always pleased when you have more people in your corner.”

The human purses his lips. “I think they could be in yours, too. If you wanted.”

Essek has always been a somewhat solitary figure, and that has always worried him. When they were children it was difficult for a drow to make friends in the heart of the Empire, but he at least had Caleb and his parents. In Rosohna, Essek’s relationship with his family is as strained as ever, he has colleagues, though none close enough that he would call friends, and his brother, the only individual he is truly even a little bit close with, is stationed far away and often too busy to correspond. 

From Essek’s face, he knows exactly what it is that his friend is doing. He doesn’t seem mad about it, however.

“I think they could,” he agrees. “Do you think you could put in a good word?”

Caleb laughs at that. “Yes, I think I could work as your reference, my friend.”

They’re quiet for a bit, enjoying the walk. The human looks at his friend out of the corner of his eye and he has a contemplative look on his face. Caleb waits patiently for him to figure out what he wants to say. 

“I will not ask what happened,” Essek says finally. “I know something must have happened when you stopped responding to my letters. Whatever gave you the scars on your arms and makes you flinch at the mention of your parents. So I will not ask. You can tell me when you feel ready to.”

Caleb’s chest tightens at his words. Of course, he knows his friend is not stupid. There is a lot of unaccounted for time that has changed him considerably. Essek would not be one to fail to note that. He’s glad, in a way, that Essek brought it up first. Caleb hasn’t been sure how to broach that minefield of a subject without just sharing the whole thing. 

“Some day,” Caleb promises. “I… am still grieving things. Give me time.”

“Of course,” Essek replies. “I am always here for you. I would never ask before you were ready.” 

Caleb gives his friend a wan smile. “You are too kind to me.”

Essek silently shakes his head and walks to stand in front of Caleb, putting a hand on his friend’s bearded cheek. “I can never be too kind to you. For many years of my life, you offered me the only place I have considered home. Now that you have become part of my life again, you offer me yet another. The kindness I offer you is a reflection of the kindness you have always offered me.”

Caleb doesn’t realize that a tear has fallen until he feels Essek wipe it from his cheek. He knows he is hardly objective when it comes to himself, but he thought he had forgotten how to be kind. After everything that happened, it seems almost the antithesis of how he has changed. Maybe some of that young Zemnian boy survived. It’s not enough to truly be him anymore, but perhaps it is enough to matter. 

“We have time yet, yes?” the drow asks. Caleb gives a shaky nod in return. “Then worry not. I have things I have not been able to broach with you as well. Let us not worry about it now, for we have a future ahead of us. I do not plan on letting you go so soon after finding you again.”

Though he knows they are standing in the middle of a pathway, and despite the late hour someone may want to actually get past them at some point, Caleb throws all of the extra information he cannot help but keep tabs on aside and wraps his arms around his friend in a tight hug. 

With his head buried in Essek’s shoulder, he whispers, “I would never let you go. Not without a fight.”

“I know, ta’ecelle ,” he replies. “I have always known.” 

It’s at this moment that Caleb realizes that he loves Essek Thelyss. Not the boyish love of his youth, fueled partially by proximity and hormones, but a deep, true love for the person he has had the privilege of getting to know again. Maybe it is not the full feeling yet, but it is certainly the start of it.

Caleb’s initial instinct is to run far away, because having deep-seated feelings like this for someone is extremely frightening. The last time he felt this deeply for someone it ended very, very badly. But he realizes that his feelings need not create a gap between him and Essek. After all, he’s well-versed in keeping a lid on his emotions. He can love Essek and never expect anything more. Just being his friend would make him the happiest he could be. 

So he separates from the drow, wipes his eyes, and says, “Come. Let us get you home.”

Inviting Caleb to his apartment once a week to work on magic together is such an obvious addition to their friendship that they don’t even formally plan it, really. Essek asks him if he would like to one week and they do all of the usual things. They discuss arcana and Essek brings down magical tomes to reference the theories he wants to examine and they do the back and forth they usually do, each volleying ideas off of the other until they come to a conclusion neither would have on their own. The whole thing feels so natural that it’s almost laughable to think of the hours of hand-wringing and anxious cleaning he had done in the days leading up to it. When they’re done for the day Caleb looks at him and says, “Same time next week?” and so it just becomes part of their schedules. It quickly becomes one of the things he most looks forward to in his weeks, if he’s being quite honest with himself. To get very far it becomes apparent that Essek will need to teach Caleb dunamancy, which is no hardship because the man is an excellent student and picks up on the concepts quickly and nods seriously through Essek’s repeated lectures on safety in spellcasting. 

It feels so natural to have Caleb in his space that he hardly thinks about it after the first day, except to think of how foolish he was to ever be nervous about having the human in his home. Caleb fits right in among his bookshelves and sitting at his desk, his familiar curled around his shoulders and purring softly. 

He says nothing when Essek takes his medication or does his physical therapy exercises. Sometimes he watches quietly and others he continues what he is doing. It doesn’t feel intrusive, and the silence is comfortable instead of heavy with unasked questions. Caleb is affording Essek the same courtesy that has been given to him: he will not ask questions. He will simply wait for a time when Essek is ready to talk on his own. 

So, of course, his past comes calling before he can actually broach the subject in any detail. 

It starts in the form of a knock on the door on one of the days he and Caleb are in the middle of a deep discussion about magic, because there are few times it is not the subject of discussion between the pair. Caleb gives him a curious look, as this has never happened in the many months they have been doing this. Essek is also confused, because the only person who ever comes to his apartment is already there. 

He opens the door curiously, only to be greeted by the face of his younger brother. His brother whom he did not invite here, nor did he even know was in town.

“Essek!” Verin greets him brightly, dragging him into a hug. It’s the rough hug of a soldier, with a hearty clap on the back to boot. 

“Verin, what are you doing here? Have you never heard of calling ahead?” he complains, trying to extricate himself from his brother’s grip. 

“Of course, I’ve heard of it! I just love the face you make when I drop in unannounced,” Verin says cheerily as he steps back and Essek takes the opportunity to glare at him. “Yes, that one!” 

Verin is dressed casually for traveling, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder, as he must have come straight here after stepping out of the teleportation circle. 

“Are you not even going to invite your favorite baby brother in?” he asks, pretending to pout.

“First of all, you are my only younger brother,” Essek starts petulantly and Verin makes a dismissive hand-waving motion. “Secondly, did it never occur to you that I could actually be busy one of the times you unceremoniously showed up at my home?”

Verin just brushes past him. “I don’t care about whatever magic shit you’re doing, I haven’t seen you since New Dawn.” 

It’s then that he turns to see Caleb, who looks a little startled as he holds Frumpkin in his arms like a lifeline. The two stare each other down silently as they are both in the same boat, only expecting to see Essek at this moment.

“Ah, Verin, this is Caleb Widogast, though you may remember him better as Bren Ermendrud, my friend from childhood,” Essek introduces hurriedly. “Caleb, this is my brother Verin, who I must emphasize I did not know to expect today.”

Verin is the first to recover, unfortunately, a wide smile breaking across his face. “ You are my brother’s close friend! This is fantastic, I have been wanting to meet you for years.”

“I have been wanting to meet you as well, Verin. Essek has only had good things to say about you,” Caleb says with a smile.

“ Only good things?” Verin says with a gasp. “Now, I know you must be lying, but I am flattered nonetheless.”

“Yes, lest you forget the jam stains in my old textbooks,” Essek grumbles.

Caleb simply waves a hand with a smile. “I promise you that Beauregard has done worse than put food in my books, though I sympathize with your plight.”

“You must have so many stories about dear Essek when you were both young,” Verin prompts, his smile taking on even more mischief as he puts an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I must insist that you share some.”

“Of course that’s what you want,” Essek mutters.

“Oh, they aren’t all bad,” Caleb starts, the same sort of mischief in his own gaze. “Mostly just two boys fumbling around in a farming village and getting themselves into trouble. Climbing up trees, sneaking into old barns, hiding from our parents, the usual fare.”

“Sorry, you mean to tell me that Essek used to climb trees?” Verin asks, looking at his brother like he’s never seen him before.

“It is not like there is much to do when you are young in a village that small,” Essek says, rolling his eyes. One of his brother’s favorite jokes is and has always been the notion that he never goes outside. Essek’s insistence that a preference for reading and more cerebral arts does not equal a hatred for the outdoors has never stopped Verin from making them so he has stopped trying.

“We were both quite adept at it in our time,” the human continues. “Essek only fell out of a tree the one time–”

“Oh, of course, you would bring that up, you–”

“It was very memorable! One minute we are talking and the next you gesture too hard and tumble out of the tree and down a hill! Nearly gave me a heart attack,” Caleb recounts, grinning all the while. 

He looks perfectly at home talking to Verin. Frumpkin has even moved out of his arms and onto his shoulders. It’s heartening even as it is incredibly embarrassing for him. His brother is already laughing at the anecdote, so he has to say something . 

“Not as memorable as the time you were convinced the barn on the old Messner farm was haunted and ran screaming from the building because you thought you saw a ghost. What was it again, Caleb?” Essek asks him, a knowing smile on his face.

“It… was a raccoon,” he mumbles. “Had I known it was a raccoon I still probably would have fled the building.”

“No, history shows you would have gotten bitten by it and I would have had to show up crying at your parents' house with you bleeding,” he points out.

“And what, exactly, is a raccoon?” Verin asks. He looks confused but absolutely delighted.

“They are clever little creatures. They are somewhere between a rodent and a cat,  with front paws that look like little hands,” Caleb explains. “They are grey with black stripes and with one over their eyes that looks like a little bandit mask.”

“They are menaces to society,” Essek cuts in. “Especially if you live in a small farming village where they like to steal food.”

Caleb just shrugs unapologetically. “I think they’re charming.”

Verin just starts laughing. “I always wondered what you two would be like together. Essek has never had many friends here in Rosohna, certainly none so close,” he says, as his laughter trails off. “I am not disappointed. No one but me teases him like that.”

“For good reason,” Essek says. “Some of us have a reputation to uphold.”

“As if you have not always been like this,” Caleb teases with a grin. “You acted just the same when we were children. You had no reputation to keep up around the other kids in Blumenthal.”

Truth be told, Essek was always cold around the other kids because he feared that if he let them into the little circle of him and Caleb, his friend would realize that he didn’t need to spend time with a haughty little drow boy when there were plenty of human kids that had more in common with him. He is not going to admit that now, though. 

“So what are you doing in Rosohna?” Essek asks. “Other than bothering me, of course.”

Verin looks slightly confused. “The Day of Illumination is this week,” he says slowly. “Mother has once again requested my presence at the ball in the Lucid Bastion, as I suspect she has also requested yours.”

It had completely slipped Essek's mind, but as he thinks back on the date and the invitation he received a month ago, he swears under his breath. He has been so careless about the passage of time as of late, just taking it week by week. He hardly pays attention to the date anymore. 

“The Day of Illumination?” Caleb questions. 

“The day the Bright Queen ascended to the surface with the help of the Luxon,” Essek explains. “It is a big celebration. The night enchantment is taken down for the day in observance. There’s usually a big festival, which I’m sure the Nein will love.”

He doesn’t mention how he dreads the day. Essek never gets to enjoy the festival. When he was young it was because the Umavi tied him up in preparations at the house, and now it is because it feels like wasted energy that he needs for the night to come. The ball itself is all politics and fake smiles and deception. Essek is good at it, but he hates it. He especially hates how his mother spends each year trying to push him toward politics. She knows it makes him miserable, but it is also prestigious and Dierta cares about few things as much as she cares about elevating their den. 

But when he finally looks up at Caleb, he can see that his friend has already picked that up from how he talked about it. His eyebrows have dipped in concern as he analyzes his friend’s expression. He has never been able to pull one past Caleb, and he supposes it’s another thing that hasn’t changed. 

“Well, I suppose I will be there this year as I have any other that I have been in this city,” Essek says, not even hiding his exhaustion at the thought. “And, once again, you will be the only person at the party I will actually want to talk to, while the Umavi is busy dragging me past every politician there.”

Verin makes a considering face before saying, “You know, the invitation does allow you a plus one. Mother may be somewhat deterred if you brought, say, a human friend who is clearly from the Empire.”

His brother has a point. While the Dynasty and Empire are not currently openly at war, as they have been in the past, the politics between the nations could be described as frosty at best. And, yes, in recent years there have been many refugees from the Empire settling in the Dynasty (as well as the Menagerie Coast) as things there have taken a turn for the authoritarian. Things get tense when the Empire is mentioned, which could be a good way to dip out of conversation. But it would also mean subjecting his friend to the criticism of the upper class. 

“I could ,” Essek agrees, “were Caleb willing. We both know that these balls can be… overwhelming , so it is not something I would ask lightly.”

“I would be willing to be your shield for the evening,” Caleb says with a lopsided smile.

“You’re certain?” he asks, even though he knows what the answer will be.

“ Ja , I am certain,” Caleb says. “I am confident in your ability to prepare me for this ball.”

His gaze seems to say, “ I would do much to lessen this burden for you .” It’s sweet, but also makes his chest feel tight. Caleb doesn’t even know the full story yet.

“See? Maybe things will actually be interesting this year,” Verin prompts, interrupting the weird tension.

“Perhaps,” Essek says distractedly, then he shakes his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “Well, now you have left me with many preparations to make and very few days to make them.”

Verin rolls his eyes but stands up and grabs his bag. “Yes, yes, you always have things to do. Luckily, I have other people to meet up with in town.” He turns to Caleb. “It was very nice to meet you after hearing about you for so many years. Hopefully, we can see each other more.”

Caleb smiles up at him, Frumpkin still sitting in his lap, curled up and sleeping. “I hope so as well. Bwael tangi .”

Verin’s expression freezes as he turns to Essek to give him a wide-eyed look. Essek refuses to make eye contact with his brother. There’s no telling what he will concoct in his head based on Caleb knowing how to tell him ‘good day’ in Undercommon. He wants no part in whatever it is. Yes, Caleb is now fluent in Undercommon, and yes, it is because of him, but Verin does not need to know that. It’s a perfectly common phrase one might learn upon moving to a city that has a high population of drow. Verin certainly doesn’t need to know that he thinks Caleb’s accent is adorable.

As he ushers Verin to the door, though, he is unable to entirely avoid his gaze. His brother gives him one last look from the other side of the doorway. It is the look he gave when he figured out many years ago that he was in love with his childhood friend and still held a torch for him despite the distance between them, back when they still sent letters regularly. Essek does his best to convey that this is not a topic he will be discussing, even when Caleb isn’t around. 

It’s not like Essek isn’t aware that he’s in love with Caleb. He’s not even sure if he ever stopped being in love with him entirely. He thinks that maybe there were just many years where that love went dormant because it wasn’t relevant to his life anymore. Now that he’s back, though, it’s been stoked anew. Some of the old things he loved are there still, like the way Caleb’s hair gets in his eyes while he’s studying and he always tries to blow it away before actually using his hands, or the freckles that fall across his cheeks and almost frame his bright blue eyes. But now, there are even more things about him to love, like the grace he has when he walks, steps much smoother than when he was a gangly teenager still growing into his body, or how he casts, the clear practiced movements and handling of components in a spell as he creates something with his brilliant mind. 

Essek especially loves watching him interact with his friends. He’s been invited to dinner a few more times now, and they occasionally study at his home (though it usually doesn’t last long as it is a loud space that always has so many people in it), and with that comes an invitation into the fold of the Mighty Nein. Caleb was right when he said they could be his people too, and that has been proven over and over. Caduceus is always more than willing to set out an extra place at the table, and Jester is more often than not texting him about her day and asking about his in return. But to watch Caleb and Beau get into arguments about politics and structures of power, or see the man quietly talk to Veth, dropping anything and everything for the halfling, is a gift in and of itself. These people are Caleb’s family, and watching the man interact with the people he loves makes Essek fall a little bit more in love every time.

At the end of the day, Essek’s love for Caleb is a thing he acknowledges to himself before carefully compartmentalizing it so that it has a minimal effect on his day-to-day life. So no, he’s not going to engage with the meaningful look Verin tries to throw his way and shuts the door behind him firmly. When he turns back to Caleb, his friend is giving him a somewhat concerned look.

“I would like to ask what makes this so difficult for you, but we can go back to discussing chronurgy if you would like,” the human offers.

“That is kind of you, but I feel that if I don’t speak on it now, I will continue to avoid it,” Essek says with a wan smile, sinking into the chair next to Caleb.

“Then, by all means, the floor is yours.”

Essek looks down, at where his fingers twist together in his lap, thinking about where he wants to start. 

“When I moved back here for school it was… difficult,” he says. “School wasn’t, I excelled there like I was born to do it and advanced quickly once I got the hang of formal schooling. But when I moved, I was young enough to not be expected to know all of the ins and outs of high society and, obviously, they weren’t very necessary in Blumenthal. I learned some things as I aged because my father insisted on them, but there was no scrutiny out there. I came back and was immediately scrutinized by my mother. My braids weren’t neat enough, my table manners were not refined enough, and my language was not elevated enough. She said to me that it was like she had let some lesser den commoner into her home. This is how I became closer to Verin, as he had been under my mother’s purview for years at that point and had been found lacking. He helped me figure out my mother’s expectations and how to meet them. In return, I would play games with him away from the gaze of our parents.”

Essek leans back in his chair and directs his gaze out the window. “It was never going to be enough for her. That became clear quite quickly. In privacy, she ignored us except for mealtimes, when she would drill us on how we were advancing in our studies, mine in magic and Verin’s in combat. We were both adept in our fields, prodigies even, but that wasn’t spectacular enough for her. Sure, she would laud us at the parties and balls and dinners we had to attend because of our station in society, but it was clear she wanted more to brag about. Things that would make her seem a better mother.” He sighs heavily. “The lack of love and joy in the Thelyss estate was stark when I had your family’s home to compare it to. I dearly missed the unconditional support and love of your parents.”

He finally looks at Caleb and sees pain in his gaze. Pain and understanding. So he takes a breath and continues.

“I think that I got so desperate for some kind of approval that I believed if I finally did something incredible, maybe I would unlock the affection I craved. I threw myself into my studies, neglecting my health and social life in the process. I paid no heed to the warnings of how dangerous playing with the fundamental structures that make up our world was. I would find something new and brilliant if only I worked long and hard enough.” He shakes his head. “I was a fool, Caleb. I threw all caution to the wind. In an attempt to make a longer-lasting way to fly using higher levels of magic, I completely fucked up my runes. I did the inverse. I collapsed gravity in on myself.”

As he speaks he watches Caleb’s face as he puts the pieces together. It doesn’t take him long, he has always been the sort to catalog things in his head silently and be able to recall relevant data in an instant. It’s not as if Essek has been hiding his disability.

“All the healers in the world could not have completely reversed my mistake,” Essek says. “They did their best, though, and I did not lose any limbs completely. My left side will forever give me trouble, though. My arm is fine most days, though on the worse days there is dulled sensation. My left leg is an everyday problem, as I am sure you noticed. Dulled sensation on most days, sharp pains when used too much, but the worst days are when it is numb. It is a combination of medication and physical therapy that keeps me mobile.

“Ironically, it was my work on the spell that caused the accident that led to the creation of the cantrip I use as a mobility aid. My mother wanted me to keep the spell a secret, but I refused. It could help many people the way it helps me. It’s officially registered within the Dynasty. I hear there’s a patent out to create an item to enchant it with for those who do not have magic to use.” He smiles a little smugly and then drops it when he remembers the topic at hand. “My mother wanted to hide almost everything about the accident. It was about optics for her. Her dunamantic prodigy making an almost fatal mistake looked bad for her. It seems the disability afterward also looked bad for her, the way she ignores it. She thinks it’s something I just need to be strong enough to work past, like it is a matter of mindset and not physical ability. It’s lucky for her, in a way, that I developed a spell to use as a mobility aid. Light knows that she has always hated when I use my cane.”

“It’s wrong,” Caleb says, shaking his head. He sounds angry in a way Essek hasn’t heard in a long time. “Disability is not a matter of worthiness or an inherent sign of weakness. It just is .”

“I know, my friend,” Essek reassures. “It has not been all bad. Verin was by my side and helped me adjust from day one. The colleagues I work closely with are aware and have made adjustments for me when asked. And, of course, you and the Nein have never questioned me when I need to rest or make adjustments. There are many people in the world willing to work with me on this.”

“But it does not erase the assholes,” the human replies, an understanding glint in his eyes.

“Just so,” he says. “Honestly, now that I do not live under her roof anymore, my mother’s casual ableism is not an everyday occurrence. Most people think the cantrip is me showing off my abilities and neither I nor my mother correct them. So she mostly pretends it doesn’t exist. And it isn’t this that bother me anymore. I think it will always leave me feeling raw, but she now spends her efforts attempting to pull me into the political sphere.”

“You did mention something about that earlier,” Caleb notes.

“Yes, because at every high society event my mother makes me attend, she presents me to the many politicians in attendance. She seems to think that if she pushes it enough and makes it seem to these people that I am interested in entering the realm of politics, I will somehow completely change my mind about the path I wish to pursue.” He rolls his eyes. “I stopped looking for her approval many years ago. I am an academic. I do research when I can and spend much of my time teaching. I find it rewarding and, most importantly, it is an area where I do not need to construct a persona. Well,” he considers, “not as much. Donor events and larger staff meetings aside.”

“I would be happy to shield you from your mother’s machinations if that is what you wish,” Caleb says with a genuine smile. “And thank you for trusting me with this. It is a lot, I know, and not easy to speak about.”

“It was overdue,” Essek tells him. “I kept meaning to but it is as you said. I do not find it easy to speak about at length. Honestly, I am kind of exhausted now. I don’t suppose we can take a break from spellwork to have some tea and chat?”

Caleb’s smile turns into a grin. “I think we can arrange that, yes.”

The first thing Caleb does upon exiting the house is tilt his head toward the sun. It has been many months since he has last seen it, and though he loves his life in Rosohna, he has missed it. Behind him, he hears the exuberance of the Mighty Nein, all excited for a fun day in the light. When they all found out about the festival, Jester and Veth immediately consumed themselves with making elaborate plans about what to visit. From her job at the bakery, Jester had gotten some insider tips about which merchants in the Gallimaufry district would be setting up stands, and she’s always sweet enough to get discounts. Everyone else is along for the ride, as these plans often go. 

Caleb is also looking forward to getting to spend time with Essek before the ball tonight. Despite his protests, the drow has been clearly very anxious about the whole event and has put a lot of focus into it. He’d even taken Caleb to his tailor to get fitted for a suit. Caleb had tried to protest, but Essek just waved it away. It was apparently on the Thelyss family account, and the family had a nearly bottomless well of money. He was assured that no one would notice let alone miss the money, which is honestly kind of scary to think about.

Caleb was also given a crash course in general manners, formal greetings, and formal language to use in conversation as well as who is deserving of what levels of honorifics. He’s cataloged it in his mind the way he does anything else he needs and will do his best not to embarrass his friend. 

The real worry, though, is Dierta Thelyss. Her name was not mentioned outright, but Caleb knows well enough that she is what Essek is most worried about. Caleb is as well, mostly because he’s not certain how he’ll react to seeing her. Well, that’s not quite true. He knows what he’ll do. He will be perfectly polite and take Essek’s lead. But internally, well. He’s never liked the idea of the woman, and he’s sure the real thing will leave much to be desired. Especially considering what Essek recently told him about her. 

He thinks that an outing with the Nein will do Essek good. If they’re good at anything, it’s being an excellent distraction. Already, Jester is talking a mile a minute at Fjord, who seems to be doing his best to keep up but is failing when it comes to her nonstop string of words. Yasha and Caduceus are deep in conversation, probably about gardening if he had to take a guess. Beau is stretching out in a patch of sunlight just inside Yasha’s eyeline, and the woman certainly has half an eye on her as she keeps up her conversation. 

Caleb glances around for his final friend for only a moment when a voice comes from behind him. 

“Don’t forget to put this on,” Veth says, holding out a bottle.

He takes it from her and sees that it’s sunscreen. Ah, right. He’d been living in a city of darkness for so long that he’d forgotten that he had to be wary of the sun.

“ Danke , friend. I will do this right away,” Caleb says, taking off his light jacket to do just that.

“Well, it wouldn’t do to go to Hot Boi’s fancy party sunburned,” she tells him, hands on her hips. “Someone has to remember to look out for you.”

Caleb pauses in the middle of applying sunscreen to his neck to look at Veth. She has a grumpy look on her face, like something is eating at her. “Is something the matter?” he asks, going back to his task. “You know that Essek will look out for me tonight.”

“I just don’t trust those fancy rich people,” she says. “They always have a hidden agenda.”

Caleb finishes applying and caps the sunscreen before going to kneel in front of her so he can look her directly in the eye. “I know this, my friend. And I will be nothing but careful.” He gives her a wry smile. “You know that if something goes wrong and I need to wreak some havoc, your name will be on the top of the list.”

“It better be!” the halfling exclaims. “I know you like him a lot, Caleb, but I’m still your best friend.”

“Always,” he promises, a fond smile stretching across his lips.

She nods at him like this is the expected and obvious response, but he senses some small amount of relief from her. He makes a mental note to spend some more time with her in the coming days. 

It’s around this time that Essek comes walking up to their house, surprisingly with his cane in hand. It’s a high-quality metal one, shining silver with geometric designs carved into it and a tripod base. Caleb rarely sees it at all and has never seen Essek use it in public, since he usually opts for his floating spell when around others. According to Essek, it usually just lives in his wristpocket with his spell book. 

The group greets him warmly, and the only acknowledgment of the cane is Jester telling him that it’s “very cool, I really like the design,” to which Essek thanks her with a genuine smile and answers her questions about where he purchased it and who designed it. 

It is nothing after that for them all to head out in the direction of the festival. There’s always a good gathering of people in the district the Nein call home, according to Essek. He has even noted to the group that he prefers the festivities in the Gallimaufry because they tend to be much less religious-minded than the gatherings in the heart of the city. Instead of basking in the light of the Luxon, the people here tend to celebrate life and what life beyond the Calamity has brought them. The mix of cultures here is much more apparent. 

Jester directs them all down the line to all sorts of confections, from these little soft toffee candies called krówki to sweet rolls with custard filling. She gets distracted halfway through explaining one thing when she spots something else she loves at another booth, so they end up very spoiled for choice and all get a little bit of everything, eagerly sharing amongst themselves. Essek shares quietly with Caleb that he always tries to get chocolate-covered plums at these festivals.

Eventually, Essek drags Caleb off to the side, alone, to a more savory food stand. He quietly orders some in Undercommon, enough for them to share, before taking Caleb to a bench where they can watch people walk through the festival.

“These are, ah, a kind of dumpling. I ordered them with several different fillings. I hope you enjoy them.” He looks down. “I, uh, don’t get to have them so often. I didn’t even have the chance to try them for a number of years when I moved back. They’re considered peasant food.” He looks Caleb in the eye with a smile. “But as you and I both know, peasant food is often the best.”

Caleb grins back. “Yes, we both know that, don’t we,” he says and then digs right in. 

Essek is right, they are excellent. Filled with a variety of cheeses, mushrooms, vegetables, and meats that he isn’t familiar enough with to identify, there’s a variety of flavors to appreciate. It’s the kind of simple, hearty food that makes him feel at home.

They’ve lost the Nein at this point, but Caleb knows from experience that they will either find them if they need them or just show up at the least opportune moment. It’s nice though, to be at these festivities together. It reminds him distantly of Harvest Close festivals back home, though those were nowhere near this busy. He and Essek used to sneak off together back then, too. Usually, his parents would find them hiding in some corner or another sharing food and whatever they got from various stalls of merchants from out of town. While Blumenthal wasn’t Rexxentrum by any stretch of the imagination, the proximity meant they usually got a small handful of out-of-towners trying to sell their wares at festivals. Even if Caleb himself didn’t have any money to spare, Essek usually had an allowance that could satisfy two curious young boys. 

“I have missed doing this with you,” Essek says, as if reading his mind. “When I first walked around the markets here, all I could think of was how much I wished you were exploring them with me.”

“I have been a great many new and exciting places these past few years,” Caleb starts. “Beautiful places, dangerous places, places I could not even begin to describe in my language or yours, and in each and every one of them I had the thought at least once that I wished you were by my side, experiencing them with me.”

Since his reintroduction into the world, Caleb has had experiences both great and terrible. He has made new friends, a new ragtag family who has stayed by his side even when he didn’t want them to, all the while wishing he had the one person who was the closest thing to his old home that he had left. He knew then, as he knows now, that he did not deserve any of it. He has learned, though, that the universe does not care about what one deserves. So he has his little lot in life and is grateful for it.

“I feel as if I only ever hear about your adventures in detail from Jester,” Essek notes. He’s trying for casual but missing the mark by a mile. His eyes are searching Caleb’s face. “She makes it seem much more fun than the rest of you. I keep wondering why that is.”

It’s not a demand so much as an invitation, but Caleb has never really been able to deny Essek anything he wanted.

“Jester has a knack for telling tales that sound fun and exciting. She’s adept in working around the more unsavory parts of our journey,” he says. “Do not get me wrong, there are many stories of ours that are as silly as she tells them. We have gotten ourselves into many different predicaments over the time we’ve known each other. But unfortunately, my friend, there are a great many parts of those tales that are quite dire. We adventured as a group all the way from Trostenwald.” 

Essek looks at him with wide eyes. “I did not realize it was quite so long a journey.”

“It’s even longer than you are thinking even now,” Caleb admits, smirking a little at his friend. “We did not set out from there to go to Xhorhas. Most of us were setting out to lose ourselves, if I’m being honest. I’m sure you have noticed our group is… troubled to say the least. Even now, we have not all dealt with the things that we need to do. We will someday, I think, but when we came here, we were in need of somewhere to call home. The rest will have to come in time.”

“What made you so desperate that you needed to find somewhere safe so badly that you all traveled across the continent?” Essek asks, whispering fiercely as the distance between the two shrinks. He has his friend quite literally at the edge of his seat, the distance diminishing even further as he leans forward.

“There was another of us, once,” he says, murmuring now. “Mollymauk. He was another tiefling, as full of life as I have seen anyone.”

“What happened to him?” the drow asks again, though this time in a tone that says he is beginning to get an idea.

“We were close to Shadycreek Run,” Caleb begins. “As there is quite a bit of countryside out there, we were forced to camp. We have always done our best to be careful, I myself employ different magics to set alarms and such to keep us safe, but no one is perfect, and we would be the first to tell you that we are not. If Yasha, Jester, and Fjord had been just a little bit farther from camp we would have woken to find them gone.” He looks down, pained to tell the next part. “As it was we were ambushed. Even though they hadn’t known the rest of us would be nearby, they had numbers on us. One of them struck down Mollymauk and we had nothing in our capacity to revive him. Jester had been dragged too far away to be of any timely help. She still blames herself.”

“Who were they?” Essek asks, gripping Caleb’s hand tight.

“Human traffickers,” Caleb spits. “They are all dead now. Self-defense, if anyone were to ask, but no one did. It was out near Shadycreek Run, after all, and it's lawless out there.”

“And from there you decided to go to Xhorhas?”

“Not quite,” he says. “This is actually how we ended up meeting Caduceus. We’d heard a rumor that there was someone who could perhaps revive Molly in a graveyard north of there. What we found was Mr. Clay, and a place to properly bury our friend. It turned out he needed company as much as we were benefitting from having him around when he hosted us. He decided he needed to journey away from his home to find answers to questions of his. The next question was destination, which we eventually decided was a place to make a base of operations. I suggested this city and the rest is history.”

Essek searches Caleb’s face for a moment before gathering him into a fierce hug. He pays no attention to the near-empty tray between them, he only gathers the redhead as close as possible. Caleb is helpless to do anything but clutch his friend in return, burying his face in his shoulder. The story hurts to tell, as much as he tries to look at it from the outside as he tells it. In the retelling of something like that, you inevitably end up right in that moment again. A singular tear falls down Caleb’s cheek. 

“I am sorry for all you have lost,” Essek murmurs into his ear, heartbreakingly sincere in his words. “And I am glad of any comfort I may have given you.” 

What hurts most, he thinks, is that Essek doesn’t even realize the extent of his words. He doesn’t know all that Caleb has lost, all that he has outright destroyed in his own life. He will tell him about what happened to his parents, to his home. He will tell him soon, he decides. After all that Essek has done for him and shared with him in the months since their reunion, he deserves to know. 

“ Danke shön , Essek,” Caleb says, extracting himself from the embrace only far enough to look his friend in the eye. “You are the truest of friends.”

Essek just shakes his head. “You need not thank me. I do this all freely.”

“I know. That is why I thank you,” he tells him quietly.

The drow man smiles at him, and it is tinged with heartbreak. 

It’s funny; when they were growing up, Essek was always stiff and distant with those he didn’t know well, and, as a result, many in their little town thought that he considered himself above them. In their teenage years, he explained it as something like a defense mechanism spurred on by his upbringing with his father. As nobility in the Dynasty, they had to keep their emotions somewhat locked away to keep themselves (or, rather, to keep their reputations ) safe – or, at least, that was how it was explained to Essek from a young age. The Ermendruds were privy to the reality, though. Essek has always been very empathetic when it comes to those he cares about. It has not escaped Caleb’s notice that those walls are often up with people who aren’t him.

“Thank you for sharing, ta’ecelle, ” Essek says, squeezing his hand once and backing up to clear up what is left of their small meal. “Come, I should return you to your friends so we can enjoy the festivities while we can.”

Caleb catches his hand again so he can catch his friend’s gaze one more time. “Let us return to our friends and spend time with them before we are condemned to an evening with the upper crust.”

This gets a genuine smile out of Essek. “Yes, that sounds like a delightful way to spend our afternoon,” he agrees.

Essek thinks it’s only just hit him, walking into the Lucid Bastion, what it is that he’s doing. He feels like maybe he was so delighted by the prospect of not being absolutely miserable at one of these awful parties that he had not entirely considered all of the implications of what he was going to do. He stands here now, though, arm in arm with Caleb Widogast, Empire human and the man he is in love with who is dressed to the nines, by his family’s preferred tailor no less, surrounded by the who’s who of the Kryn Dynasty upper class, reconsidering every choice he’s made in the last week. How could he let Verin talk him into this? Would it not be better to simply serve his heart to his mother on a silver platter? The woman is well-versed in crushing everything Essek finds enjoyment in under her heel, how could he think this would end any better? 

“Breathe, Schatz ,” Caleb whispers into his ear. Of course, the man would have immediately picked up on his panic. He shouldn’t be surprised anymore. “You have briefed me on all that I need to know. We have gone over what to do for every circumstance, and you know that you can trust my memory.”

“I know that,” Essek admits. Even with just those few words, he can hear the anxiety in his own voice.

“Whatever arises, we will handle it. We are a good team,” Caleb assures him. 

Essek doesn’t know how to say that he is afraid they are too good of a team, and that this will come back to bite them both. However, now there is no way to go but forward.

Essek is used to events like this, having been dragged to them since he was an adolescent, but there’s something about taking Caleb with him that allows him to see it in a new light. The halls of the Lucid Bastion are all lit up, the lights not too bright but enough that it looks as though the building itself is glowing from behind the semi-translucent quartz. The high, vaulted ceilings make the building seem cavernous, even as it is filled with people. The people themselves are flowing in toward the ballroom, all dressed in their finest clothes. He searches the crowd for his brother, but at this point, there are too many people to tell. 

What he does find, however, is that there are already people looking at Caleb and whispering amongst themselves. It’s inevitable, really. It was always going to be. Humans are still not very common in Rosohna, and with his red hair, Caleb was always going to stick out considerably. Essek grits his teeth as he thinks about what rumors could be circulating already. He wonders how long until those rumors make it to his mother. He wonders if she’s already noticed the purchases he made for Caleb and this was all doomed before it began.

Caleb puts his free hand on Essek’s own, which is when he realizes he has started to squeeze the man’s bicep in distress. The human catches his eye, asking without speaking if he is alright. He simply shakes his head minutely, a signal not to worry about him. Caleb doesn’t look convinced, but drops it with a small reassuring squeeze of his hand. 

The ballroom itself is bright. In the center of the high ceiling is a dazzling, magical light. Essek winces when they enter the room. One of the many things he hates about his country’s religion is the obsession with torturing themselves with intense lighting, even though a majority of the people who live here are drow and therefore sensitive to such things. When he looks over at Caleb, even he is blinking at the sudden change in lighting. 

“Come, let us find a place to stand and gather our bearings,” Essek says quietly, tugging on Caleb’s arm.

Caleb nods and follows him as he leads them to a spot at the side of the room, near one of the windows. Through the window, they can see the sun setting behind the glasshouses on the grounds of the Lucid Bastion. Essek himself has only been permitted to enter them once. They are beautiful and filled with many varieties of plant life from across Exandria, from the jungles of Marquet to the mountains of Issylra, and tended to by a dedicated team of botanists. It was peaceful, in a way he wishes he could get more often. Rosohna is not exactly set up to nurture plant life. 

“Thinking of sneaking off?” Caleb asks, jolting him out of his thoughts. 

“Ah, no. Or, not to the glasshouses, at least. I would like to try and stay out of trouble tonight, if it’s all the same to you,” he says.

“If you say so,” Caleb replies, a wry smile on his face. “But if you would like to make some trouble, you know I am an expert.”

Essek laughs for the first time tonight. “I am well aware of this, my friend.”

The red-haired man grins down at him, eyes alight as if making Essek relax and laugh was his plan all along. He’s shaved for tonight, which makes him look younger than he usually does, and his hair is in a tight ponytail with small braids decorating the sides. His coat is long and black with silver accents, and a bright red vest peeks out under it that actually shows the shape of his body. The tailor did an incredible job, especially under such short notice, and Caleb certainly knows how to clean up his appearance. Essek is not a man who is often impressed by people’s physical appearance, but his mouth did go a bit dry when the man stepped out of the Xhorhaus earlier that night. 

“Essek!” says a voice from behind him. 

He turns to find Verin, looking nervous and apologetic. His brother is worrying the cuff of his dress uniform and has a telltale dip between his eyebrows that spells trouble. Essek knows what he is going to say before it even leaves his mouth.

“Mother has already heard about you bringing Caleb tonight,” Verin starts. “She is furious and requesting an audience. I tried my best to calm her down, but you know she does not listen to me.” 

Essek has to stop himself from saying, ‘ She doesn’t listen to anyone .’ As it is, this is an eventuality he was prepared for. He hoped it would not be so early on, but he doesn’t consider himself particularly lucky anyway. 

“Caleb, you stay here with Verin and I will take care of–”

“No, Essek. She has requested an audience with both of you ,” Verin says apologetically. “I tried to talk her out of it. I know it was all my idea and I wanted to at least keep him out of it, but she was insistent.”

Essek’s fists clench tightly. He had hoped his mother would think his human friend was too insignificant to be involved. Ideally, he’d hoped she would consider his human friend too insignificant to even bother worrying about. Apparently, he underestimated the woman. He really is unlucky.

He looks to Caleb only to find the man already watching him back, waiting for him to make a decision. Essek knows that if he were to tell him that they were fleeing the party and teleporting home immediately, he would only ask which of them should cast the spell. He wishes that was what he was going to say next. 

“Then, it is best not to keep her waiting,” Essek says finally. 

Caleb nods and steps up to wordlessly offer his arm again. Essek takes it. What is to come will surely be unpleasant, and he could use the comfort. 

“Remember that you must–”

“Speak only when directly addressed, use formal language, and keep my wits about me at all times,” Caleb recites, tapping his forehead. “It is all up here, friend.”

“She is waiting for you out on the balcony.” Verin points out one of the sets of doors. “Good luck.”

“If I had any, we would not be having this conversation at all,” Essek says, setting his gaze on his destination. He sets off at a quick pace that Caleb easily keeps up with, the pit in his stomach getting heavier the closer they get, but there’s nothing to be done about it. The only way out is through. 

When they reach the doors, they are big and ornate, with glass that shows the balcony itself. There, back to the door, stands Deirta Thelyss. From here, he can see the shimmering white gown that she wears, layered with gossamer material that is iridescent when it hits the light. It looks incredible and otherworldly in the light of the sunset, which was surely the reason she chose the balcony to begin with. Her hair is done in elaborate braids that have jewels decorating them, clearly showing her status as Umavi of Den Thelyss to anyone who knows what they’re looking at. Just seeing her in all of her fineries sends his body into fight or flight mode, though his body is choosing to freeze with one hand on the knob. 

Caleb sets a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, comforting and grounding him with the gesture. “We will make it through this, Schatz . Just breathe.”

Essek inhales deeply, holding it for only a few seconds before letting out a heavy breath. Then he opens the door. 

His mother doesn’t turn, not at first. She makes him wait, which is one of her favorite tactics. It sets the bar that everything in this meeting is under her control and will happen on her timeline. When she does turn it is slow and methodical. Her gaze doesn’t fall on them until the last moment and when it does it’s piercing. The only reason Essek doesn’t flinch is practice. Caleb doesn’t flinch either, but he’s just as tense. 

“Essek,” she says, turning that one word into a weapon aimed straight at him. “ What do you think you are doing ?”

If he felt like he could move, he would sigh in disdain. His mother is speaking in Undercommon, which means that she believes that Caleb does not understand it, and she wants to show her advantage over him in this conversation. She can say whatever she wants if Essek is the only one who understands her. She’s wrong about that, of course, but she didn’t bother to ask, so she doesn’t know. He certainly isn’t going to interrupt her to let her know.

“ I know I didn’t raise you to be so stupid that you don’t know what bringing an Empire human to an event like this looks like for our den ,” Deirta hisses. “ What on Exandria made you think this was acceptable? ”

“ He is simply a friend ,” Essek says by way of explanation. “ Someone I met when I was young who I have reconnected with. I wanted to bring him with me so that he could experience our customs .”

“ It is bad enough that you spent years with your father in that hovel in the Empire, but you brought it back home with you? ” she sneers.

His mother never misses an opportunity to point out that she hates the years he spent in the Empire, even though it was part of the agreement she made with his father when they separated. She always acts like Rosohna is his real home, even though it has scarcely felt like one for most of the years he lived here, certainly not as much of one as Blumenthal was. She only wanted him back because he showed an aptitude for magic. There is no doubt in his mind that if he was unremarkable, he would never have come back.

“ It is bad enough that you have no ambition to ascend into the political sphere like you could if you put your mind to it ,” she says. “ But to bring this Empire scum with you when you should be focusing on elevating yourself. Do you never think of your future? The future of our den? ”

Essek snaps. Maybe it’s the direct insult to Caleb, who she thinks has no idea what she’s saying. Maybe it’s the years of being worn down by this woman who has clearly planned out a future for him without consulting him on what he wants. Maybe it’s because he’s changed, now that he has steady friends and Caleb by his side and finally feels satisfied with his life. 

“ I do think of my future, ” he says, enunciating his words so that he is being very clear. “ And I am on the path to the future I desire. It is not in politics, because it would make me absolutely miserable. It is in arcane research. I have been working my way up in the Marble Tomes for years now. I am currently in a good position to obtain a grant that would allow me to conduct research into new reaches for dunamancy with a team of other highly respected academics, as you would know if you thought for even one moment to actually look into the things I do instead of lamenting what you wish I was doing.  

“ As for the future of the den, I am sure it is secured by the many consecuted souls that continue to do good work in the Thelyss name. I am well aware of the many achievements of our den from before I was born and that have continued through my lifetime. If I spend my life enjoying my time on this planet it will not take away from all of that. And this man, ” he gestures to Caleb, “ is one of the best people I have ever known. He is a brilliant wizard with a deep love and aptitude for magic. Not only does speaking with him help me with the work that I love, but he has made me a better person by being in my life. He supports me unconditionally through all of the decisions I make for myself. I love him dearly and there is nothing you can do about that. ”

Essek is slightly out of breath by the end of his speech. All of it just came pouring out, all of the things he has wanted to say to her for years. It feels good, even though he knows this will not be the end of it.

“ So, what? ” his mother questions, looking smug like she’s caught him out on something. “ You love this human and will throw your life away for him? Do you not think I could not take him from you? He wouldn’t even know what happened. He would think you abandoned him. ”

Essek grins at her. “ Are you sure about that? ”

“ Umavi Thelyss, I must let you know that I would not be separated from your son so easily, ” Caleb says in fluent Undercommon. It is still accented, but it has gotten much better in the months he has been living in Rosohna. 

For her part, Dierta is shocked. There was nowhere in her mind that she thought he would speak their native tongue, that much is clear. And because of that, she let herself slip very far from what is considered appropriate behavior for an Umavi and a leader of a den. For all the power she holds, from a social standpoint, there are still parameters that she is expected to operate within. She has always acted outside of these bounds with her sons especially, but the fact that she let herself get so carried away in a venue that is public with someone else able to corroborate her son’s account means that he actually has something over her.

The surprise doesn’t last long and is soon replaced by fury. His mother’s fists clench and she grits her teeth as she glares down at the pair of them. 

“Is this your choice then? You will throw away your future?” she asks, in Common this time.

“I keep telling you, I have not thrown it away. It is simply not the future you wish for me,” Essek says, looking up at her coolly as he takes Caleb’s hand in his. “I will be successful, but it will be on my terms. With the people I choose to share my time with.”

The mask his mother usually wears is well and truly gone as she makes a hissing noise between her teeth. “Then go! And do not come crying to me when you end up a failure without your den to back you up,” she shouts, dismissing him.

“Our definitions of failure have always been very different, Mother,” he replies, turning and dragging Caleb behind him.

Essek vacates the balcony as quickly as he can without outright running. He can feel the eyes on him, the doors are glass, after all, and people would have looked to see the discussion between Umavi Thelyss and her son turn into a screaming argument. They will all gossip about this for weeks. He doesn’t care. He wants to leave.

He spots Verin fairly close to the balcony. His leg is tapping quickly with anxious energy as he watches them approach. 

“What happened?” he asks as soon as the pair are in front of him.

“I told our mother that she cannot dictate everything in my life,” Essek says.

Verin’s eyes widen. “You what ?”

“She is trying to decide my future and who I should spend my time with, as she always has,” he clarifies. “I told her that no one will do that but me.”

“Light above, Essek,” Verin whispers. “You really did it this time.”

“She insulted Caleb,” he says by way of explanation. “And it made me realize how tired I am of the whole charade. I am sorry if any of this ends up affecting you.”

He looks back at Caleb, who just looks back at him with steely determination in his eyes. Caleb knows exactly what happened and why. He understands and will support him. This is not a surprise, but it is comforting.

“Don’t worry about me. There’s not much she can do to me in Bazzoxan,” Verin says.

Essek just nods at him. “We will head out, I think. I can’t stand to be here any longer,” he confesses.

“Don’t worry about me, brother,” Verin assures. “I will come by tomorrow morning to say goodbye before I leave.”

“I will see you then.”

Essek makes sure his posture is perfect as he strides across the ballroom and out the door. Eyes are still on him as he leaves and his face is impassive as ever, giving nothing away. Caleb’s hand remains clutched in his own until they arrive back at the Xhorhaus. 

Caleb is not a stupid man. He sometimes thinks that his life might be easier if he were less intelligent. This, however, is thinking that doesn’t get him anywhere good or useful, so he tends to disregard it. 

So, he is not stupid and has, in fact, been trained to be able to read people's emotions with fair accuracy, which means that when Essek told his mother that he loved him dearly, he was immediately aware that the man did not mean it in a platonic sense. He stepped up to make sure his place by Essek’s side was clear, of course. He was honest, that this woman deciding for them that they were no good for each other would not stop him from being friends with Essek for as long as the man wished, but that is the line. As long as Essek wishes. And Essek does not have all of the information about Caleb and the years between when they were children and their reintroduction. He’d already known that he needed to do it soon, but this has really solidified that there is no time left to wait. Essek is already putting things on the line for their relationship and is in love with the man he thinks Caleb is.

Caleb explains this to Beau one night after she has needled him into telling her why he’s been moping so much lately (her words, of course). The Nein already know everything about the events in his past, of course, but their acceptance of him is different than Essek. For one, at least half of them have made grave mistakes in their lives and understand the darkness in him on a more personal level. They didn’t know him before, either. None of them have any experience with the boy he once was. They don’t know what he lost, what he destroyed. They certainly didn’t know and love his parents the way Essek did.

He explains all of this to Beau, and she just gives him a look and says, “If you really think telling him your fucking tragic backstory is going to make him abandon you, you are so much stupider than I thought you were.”

Veth is kinder about it, of course, but tells him pretty much the same thing when she finally corners him as well. She also insinuates that she’ll make Essek regret it if he rejects Caleb, which he makes clear is not what he wants, but he knows that will not necessarily stop her if she feels he’s been hurt. Her loyalty brings a smile to his face, at the very least.

It happens on a night that Essek comes over for dinner. It’s a regular thing these days; something the Nein demand, really. Jester loves dragging him into her bubble, needling him into trying pastries and drawing little doodles in her sketchbook. Beau will sometimes drag him into complicated discussions of politics and culture. Curiously, Essek and Caduceus have taken to talking about plants. Essek now keeps a few houseplants around his little apartment, and when the two talk, it is often about how they are doing and how best to care for them. He even has a few globes of sunlight around his place now to give them the nutrients they need. He has really taken to it with enthusiasm, confessing to Caleb how fulfilling he finds it to cultivate life in such a way.

The point is that Essek fits within the group in the way Caleb has always hoped he would. The family he does not have within his den, he has here. They love to have him around and ask about him when he is not. He is so, so afraid of upsetting this balance and poisoning what he has fostered, but he also knows that he can no longer avoid the conversation.

They sit in his bedroom, the furniture all mismatched and crammed into the space, but it’s cozy and lived-in. Blankets sit on chairs and books are spilling out from the bookshelves onto every surface and Frumpkin is curled up in the armchair by the desk. Caleb has cultivated this space into a sanctuary for himself, somewhere to seek comfort and recharge. He shares it freely with Essek, of course; this is far from the first time he has been inside. He sits comfortably in the window nook, pretending he isn’t waiting for Caleb to broach whatever topic has him so wound up. Caleb stands nearby, partially leaning against his desk and staring at the floor.

He knows he hasn’t been subtle, all of the Nein had given him looks when the pair retired upstairs. They knew it was coming and had guessed without being told that tonight was the night. They said nothing aloud, of course, just giving him supportive glances and clapping him on the back. He loves and appreciates them all. Especially Essek, who hasn’t asked what is wrong and left it to Caleb to decide when he was ready to talk.

“You said once that you would wait until I was ready to speak on my past,” Caleb starts, not quite looking at Essek. “I am not sure if I would say I am ready, but, regardless, I will speak on it.” Essek tries to interject, no doubt to say that he doesn’t have to, but he puts up a hand to stop him. “If we wait until I am truly ready, I fear we will be waiting for the rest of my life. It will be hard, though, so I ask that you keep any questions until I am done.”

The drow nods. “Take as long as you need.”

“It started at Soltryce,” he begins, doing his best to remain calm. “Not right away, of course. At first, it was as wonderful as I had imagined. I was surrounded by magic and learning and I was challenged, yes, but that challenge was stimulating. It all just made me want more , more knowledge, more magic, more power . It was a little over a year in when my class had a guest lecturer come in. Trent Ikithon, Archmage of the Cerberus Assembly.” Despite the even, clinical tone Caleb had been keeping up to now, he cannot help but spit out the name in bitter malice. “We were all excited, of course, there was so much we could learn from him. We had all heard how he would sometimes take exceptional students on for special tutoring, and, of course, we all wanted to be the ones he chose.”

Caleb realizes he has started to scratch at his scars once again and locks his hands around his elbows instead.

“In the end, he chose me, along with Astrid Beck and Eadwulf Grieve. I don’t know how well you remember them, but they were also natives of Blumenthal.” He can’t even find it in himself to look up in order to check if Essek recognizes the names. “At first, we thought we were the luckiest students in the Empire, being able to study under one of the great Archmages of our country. We soon found that it was the beginning of the end for us, however.

“He isolated us from our peers, first. He told us that it was to allow us to focus entirely on our studies. We had no access to phones, computers, or even mail. Honestly, we barely noticed as soon as the curriculum started. It was a higher level of thought than our previous classes, rigorous theory subtly wrapped up in Empire propaganda about what a wizard should be and how to best serve our homeland. We relied on each other to keep up at the same time he singled us out from each other for further studies.

“By the time things had gotten bad it had come in too subtly for us to know when it started. The propaganda about giving our minds and bodies to our country? The more and more physically taxing magical feats we were expected to perform? By the time physical discipline became a factor, it was only a shock it hadn’t been a method before.” 

He flashes back to the tower Ikithon had locked them in, shaking and feeling, for one brief moment, as if he were there again, and snaps his fingers to make Frumpkin relocate to his arms. The cat gives a small meow and begins to purr loudly, reaching up with his little paws to perch partially on Caleb’s shoulder and burrow his face into his neck. It’s incredible how fast it calms him down, grounding him in the here and now instead of being unmoored in the past.

He chances a glance up, and Essek looks horrified and worried all at once, fists clenched at his side as if physically stopping himself from reaching out. Caleb is grateful for that. He’s pretty sure the unexpected touch would have caused him to reflexively set Essek on fire. Or perhaps to freeze completely, stuck in a memory. He isn’t sure which outcome would be worse.

“I… won’t go into detail. I don’t think it would help either of us,” Caleb says after a long pause. “Just know that I have many scars now, physical and mental. As it turns out, he was not teaching us to become the wizards we had dreamed of being as bright-eyed youths, but soldiers under his command. And not only soldiers, but spies and assassins as well. We were taught to do many unsavory things under his watch and in the name of the Empire.” He looks off into the middle distance, a complicated look on his face. “It took years, and in those years we were cut off from our family and friends. The only people we saw regularly were him and each other. As such, we developed a very codependent bond. It was romantic, though a very desperate kind of romance. I would not say it is a relationship I regret, because I don’t think any of us would have survived as long as we did without that bond, but it was not healthy.

“Those years were harsh, and eventually they led us to graduation. Though we did not know it at the time, he had one final test for us.” He stops again, a lump in his throat, and the only noise filling the room is Frumpkin purring against Caleb’s chest. “He sent us home, to our families. They were overjoyed to see us, of course, only having gotten enough scant letters to stave off their worries. And we were glad to see them, because though we were not the children that our parents sent off to school, we still loved them dearly.

“But that night all three of us overheard our parents talk of treason and revolution, and our education made it clear what we were meant to do.” Movement catches the corner of Caleb’s eye and he sees Essek’s hands go to his mouth, horror written all over his features. Though this is how this was always going to go, he hates to have to do this. But Essek deserves to know, so he continues even as his voice wavers and cracks. “We gathered that evening to make plans. We went to the Grieves’ first, then the Becks’, and finally to my parents' little home. I have always had an affinity for fire, so that is the method I chose. We blocked off all of the exits, and I set the building alight, with them both inside.” 

Tears stream down his cheeks now. 

“Hearing them cry out, hearing them die–” He stops, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. There is no sound in the room but Frumpkin’s furious purring as he tries to comfort the wizard. He doesn't know how he finds his voice again, only that he must continue. “It broke me. I spent the next eleven years in a sanatorium, barely cognizant. One day another inmate performed a spell on me that made me realize my parents were never treasonous. My teacher had set us all up, implanting memories into our heads. As soon as I’d recovered enough, I broke out. I was on the streets for years, and if not for Veth and the rest of the Nein, I would probably still be there.” 

Caleb lets out a deep breath when he finishes, wiping his eyes. “That is my story. I hope you understand now why I had to tell you before… well, before you made any decisions you could not undo.”

There is a period of silence where he cannot bear to look at his friend. And then Essek says, “You think I would judge you for years of abuse and manipulation?”

He looks up to see a fire in Essek’s eyes. He expected fury, but not this fury on his behalf. 

“This man took children and bent them to his own ends. He took your desire for education and advancement and crafted you all into weapons for him to use against enemies. How could you think I would lay the blame on you for all of this, Caleb?” 

“My parents–”

“You know that I loved them as if they were my own parents,” Essek says, grief clear on his face. “And I understand why you were afraid to tell me this, I really do. But of course, I don’t blame you. That man spent years making sure that when he set you up as he did you would feel that you only had one choice.”

“It was still my hands. My hands that did the deed,” Caleb argues. 

“And yet I do not care for you any less,” Essek tells him, stepping close enough to cup his cheek. Frumpkin jumps down, seeing that his job is being taken care of by someone else. “I have seen your scars and heard your story and yet I am still here. I am not going anywhere.”

Something about the combination of the words and the utter sincerity of Essek’s expression breaks down Caleb’s final wall, and he collapses into the drow’s arms. Tears he has scarcely let himself shed come abruptly to the surface, and he is held through it all, Essek’s voice speaking softly into his ear. He cries for his parents, for the child he once was, and for the future he lost. He cries for the future he has gained, as well. The friends who have become family and the place he can call home. The man he loves dearly who, despite everything, will stay by his side and support him. 

They stay there until the tears run out and then some, eventually both falling asleep on Caleb’s bed while in each other's arms. 

While Essek utterly despises politics, this does not mean he doesn’t have some advantageous political allies. He scarcely uses these resources, because he has no need to use them, but he knows what strings he could pull if he needed to. 

Having heard Caleb’s story, he has concerns about his friend’s safety. Caleb directed him to Beau to see what was being done about it, and she has a good amount of evidence that she has gathered through her travels and her connections to the resources of the Cobalt Soul, but by her own admission, this puts more of a target on their backs than protects them. And, she admits, she has less access to her sources here than she did in the Empire. There are some agents stationed in the Dynasty, but not a formal network.

According to Caleb, the danger isn’t immediate. As far as they know, Ikithon is unaware of where they are, but he does feel this is only a matter of time. He hasn’t said as much, but Essek gets the feeling that he fears having to uproot himself from the safety he has found here and go on the run again. 

And so, Essek decides that he must call upon the resources he has access to. While it is not necessarily easy for him to get the audience he needs, it’s far easier for him to get than it would be for most people.

Then it’s just a matter of about talking to Caleb about it. When Essek mentions a more official form of residency in the Dynasty, not citizenship but a more solid political asylum, he is wary but hopeful. He even offers his own knowledge of Empire workings as a trade, though Essek assures that he’s going to try to figure out a way without Caleb having to unearth his trauma to strangers. 

He’s almost nervous when the meeting comes around. It technically isn’t a formal meeting, as that would take much longer to arrange, but still. It's the first time he has flexed his place in his den since his argument with his mother. He makes sure that his attire is formal enough for any kind of meeting taking place within the Lucid Bastion and makes sure to arrive early.

He is taken into a private sitting room that already has tea set up. It is only a few minutes later that Quana Kryn strolls in.

Essek bows formally. “Dusk Captain.”

“There is no need for that, Essek,” she says, sitting immediately. “While circumstances made it so that I was not present during much of your younger years, I was present at your birth. We may not be blood or even of the same den, but your mother is like family to me, and so are you.”

He nods swiftly and awkwardly takes a seat. “Ah, apologies. I suppose I am not used to meetings as informal as this.”

“Indeed,” she notes, eyeing him critically. “You tend to stay out of such spheres unless your mother requires it of you. I was curious when you asked, especially considering what happened on the Day of Illumination.”

Essek feels his face heat. “Ah, yes. That was not the most tactful of me…”

“It was not the most tactful of her, either,” Quana says. “This was something that has been building for years. Truthfully, I had advised her in the past to stop trying to push you into politics. If it is not something you want, which it seems you have made perfectly clear to her many times, it would just make you miserable. I believe that children should make their own paths, as you have been. It is not your fault if she fails to listen.”

Her words are surprising, even as a part of him reminds him that they shouldn’t be. While Quana has been the partner of the Bright Queen for several lifetimes now, she has never been big on bureaucracy and the pomp and circumstance that is often found in the upper echelons of the Dynasty. There is a reason she heads the military. She is practical above all else and that is something Essek has always deeply respected about the woman.

“I thank you for your support,” Essek tells her sincerely. It is not support he often gets outside of academic circles. 

The Dusk Captain just waves him off and begins to prepare herself a cup of tea. “It is no matter. Now, tell me what it is you wanted to meet about.”

He straightens in his seat. To business then. 

“I am sure you are aware that I have made the acquaintance of some foreigners recently,” he begins. “One of them is a friend from my youth, someone I had gotten close to in the Empire.”

“I presume this is the gentleman you brought with you to the Illumination Ball?” she asks. 

“Yes. He came here seeking refuge from those there who wish him harm, and I worry without anything official in our records they may very well cross borders to do so. After all, few would notice one missing refugee,” he says. 

Quana nods, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a hand. “Few, indeed,” she repeats. “I am sure that I can help pull this through, but I will require some information about him and those who may pursue him. How high up does this go?”

Essek’s face darkens. “All the way to the Cerberus Assembly.” Her eyes widen as his meet hers, almost in challenge. “Were you aware that Trent Ikithon is taking on children to become his soldiers and spies?”

Her spine goes ramrod straight as her expression likewise darkens. “Unfortunately, I was,” she admits. “Though at this point there has not been much we have been able to do about it, as all we have had are rumors.”

“He has told me only some of what the archmage did to him. It is not an exaggeration when I say I would rather die than let that man near him again,” Essek says coolly. 

“Based only on what I have heard, I cannot say I blame you,” Quana agrees. “What exactly is it that you need? Are you wanting to build a case against him?”

Essek shakes his head. “A mutual friend is already doing that. They will pursue justice in their home country. All I ask is official political asylum. Enough records to keep him safe while he is here.”

“I can get that going,” she says. “Someone will need to talk to him so we can get the necessary papers filled out, but we can definitely arrange this.”

“I only ask that no one asks him specifics,” he says. “He has had a hard enough time opening up to those close to him. I would like to avoid having to open up those wounds again.”

“Since he isn’t pursuing a case within the Dynasty, that should be easy to arrange.” She pauses and looks at him, really looks. “He must be a truly special man for you to delve into politics, even in a limited capacity.”

“He is,” Essek answers easily. “He was very dear to me when we were children, and I feared I had lost him. Now that we have found each other again I do not wish to lose him another time.”

She nods with a small smile on her face. “We will have to make sure you don’t, then.”

“And, uh, if you could–” he starts. 

“I cannot promise Deirta will not hear of our meeting,” Quana stops him. “It is very possible that she already has. You know your mother has eyes and ears everywhere. I can promise, however, that she will know that to try and stop the process we are putting into motion would upset both the Dusk Captain and the Bright Queen.”

Relief floods Essek’s system at her words. “Thank you so much. I truly cannot express my gratitude enough.” 

“The only thanks I need is you and your young man living long happy lives,” she tells him, her smile taking on a knowing edge. 

He feels heat flood his cheeks but agrees all the same. “I will do everything I can to make it so,” he promises. 

It is only one step, but it feels like Essek is making strides towards the future he and Caleb both want. The future they deserve. He will fight however he has to, but as he watches Quana sip her tea, he is glad that he won’t have to fight every step of the way. There are those who, like Caleb, actually like Essek for Essek, and not the person they wish he was. He thought so, but this was a much needed reminder.

Caleb is well aware that he has no more excuses for not telling Essek about his feelings. He would be aware even if his friends didn’t constantly side-eye him and make not-so-subtle comments about it, ranging from Beau’s, “So, how’s Essek?” to Jester’s, “Have you told Essek that you’re super in love with him yet?” He’s confessed his sins and even heard the man himself tell his mother that he loves Caleb and will not be parted from him. By the gods, with the paperwork finally gone through he officially has political asylum in the Kryn Dynasty and doesn’t have to fear the rug being pulled out from under him soon. He has protection he never even thought of as an option until Essek offered to pull some strings for him.

The problem, of course, is how to go about it. Theoretically, he could confess his feelings at any time, but Caleb Widogast is not a man known for doing things halfway, and he’s not about to halfheartedly confess his love to his oldest and dearest friend. So, of course, he makes a plan. All the Nein are privy to regarding his plan is that he and Essek will be studying in his room, and they are not to disturb them unless someone is dying and/or the house is literally burning down around them. He has truthfully only told Veth and Beauregard that he plans to confess to Essek, but while he loves his friends, he is not holding his breath on their ability to keep secrets from each other. And, sure enough, when he and Essek head upstairs to Caleb’s room he sees Jester and Veth giving him a thumbs up out of the corner of his eye. He makes an exasperated face at them as he leaves their line of sight. He loves his family. He does. Even when they are being obnoxious.

As they enter his room Essek turns around, bright-eyed at the prospect of magic, and asks, “Now, what was this spell that you wanted to show me?”

Caleb chuckles warmly and starts rooting around his component pouch for his supplies. “ Ja, ja, please have some patience. I have only cast the spell once before to practice.” 

Essek dutifully steps back to make space for Caleb but continues to twist his rings around his fingers, an old habit of his that has only accumulated more rings to fiddle with over the years. He watches intently as Caleb retrieves a wand, a piece of granite, a shard of stained glass, and a small wooden cat statue. 

“Admittedly this is a spell that I have… modified to suit my tastes. I think you will be impressed with the results,” he says wryly.

“I cannot imagine any magic you do being anything less than impressive,” Essek replies.

The thought warms his chest, and he turns back to his components and begins to recite the spell. In only a minute there is a shimmering transparent doorway just in front of where Caleb has kneeled down to complete the spell. He gathers up the components to tuck them away again and looks over his shoulder to his friend.

“Shall we?” 

Essek peers at the doorway as if trying to look deeper within, though with the way the spell works all he can see is a warm magical light emanating from the space. His eyes, though, are bright with the excitement that new magic always brings out in him. He’s already dissecting the spell, even when he has only seen the casting of it and not the result, but at Caleb’s question, his expression morphs into a smile.

“There is nothing I would love more,” he says.

They step through the doorway into the first floor of the tower. The pair are immediately illuminated by the multicolor stained glass windows that surround them. Each of the nine schools of magic are represented, with the purple dunamancy window being the first one in line of sight when you enter the tower. Essek spins in place to get a good look at all of them, mouth open slightly in awe.

“An extradimensional plane,” he murmurs, looking at Caleb with an almost reverent look on his face. “Caleb Widogast, you are one of the most extraordinary men on Exandria.”

Caleb can feel his face coloring already. “It is nothing as phenomenal as you are probably thinking,” he hastens to correct. “Yes, this is a pocket dimension, but it isn’t anything permanent. Unless I recast the spell, in twenty-four hours it will be gone.” 

Essek just shakes his head. “Right now it is impermanent. But I know you, and I have no doubts that you will someday master the skills required to make a permanent plane all for yourself. This is no small accomplishment. While it is a step, it is a large one indeed.” 

Essek’s words, the absolute conviction in his tone that he saves for very few things, warms Caleb down to his core. This is one of the things he loves most about Essek. Not the boost to his ego; with his track record he knows that isn’t something he should chase. It’s the belief Essek has in him, a belief that makes Caleb want to believe in himself again. It’s a belief that will not be altered if he were to ask for help. On the contrary, he knows for a fact that asking for assistance will only make Essek enthusiastically help with whatever he is asked to, and the collaboration would make any victory that much sweeter.

“Would you like to explore, then?” Caleb asks, gesturing towards the dais in the center of the chamber. “This is only the entrance. There is much more to see.”

“If this is just the entrance, I am excited for whatever surprises you have in store,” Essek says, smiling warmly up at Caleb. 

The pair make their way up to the dais, where Essek stands on the edge and looks upwards curiously. Above him is the entrance to the rest of the tower, nine-sided the way the rest of the room is. It is too dark to see beyond the threshold of the opening, though, even for a drow like Essek.

“To ascend, you need only think ‘up’,” Caleb explains, beginning to rise on the platform.

“Up,” Essek murmurs, the smile on his face widening as he starts to float.

“I will make it no secret that your influence has affected this tower very much,” Caleb reveals. “It turns out that in my life, and my magic as well, you have had a great impact.” 

And, indeed, as they ascend, the impacts both Essek specifically and the country Caleb has made a home in have had become more obvious. While the architectural stylings of the tower are largely based on Empire-style buildings, there is a distinct Xhorhasian influence in the purple Vermaloc wood that makes up some of the structures and geometric patterns littered throughout.

Caleb brings them to a stop on the third floor, stepping off into the salon. Essek stares in amazement at the shelves and shelves of books that surround them. The library is filled with warm light, most of which emanates from the large fireplace that sits in the center, its glow bright enough to reach up to the third floor. But what really distracts Caleb is the way the stained glass window above it, the one that is a replica of the pattern of Mollymauk’s coat, shines down and colors Essek’s face. The drow slowly turns his head to look at Caleb.

“Are all of these books… readable?” he asks quietly. 

“Of course,” Caleb says, smirking a bit as he understands what Essek is getting at. “What would be the point of a library if you could not read the books?” 

The drow just shakes his head minutely in disbelief. “Your memory never ceases to amaze.”

“Oh, not all are heavy academic texts,” he admits. “There are all kinds of books here. There are picture books from my youth, a sizable amount of terrible smut, and if you look hard enough I’m sure you can find some introductory books on learning Undercommon.”

“So what you mean to say is all the books that have shaped your life are in this library,” Essek says, his smile turned a little wry. 

Caleb laughs. “I suppose that is a good way to put it. I like to think every book I read affects me to some degree.”

“Are we including the smut in that statement?” Essek asks, humor dancing in his eyes. 

“I suppose we must,” he says, and his grin grows as he says it. 

“Am I allowed to pick your brain, or did you want to finish the tour first?” Essek is already eyeballing the shelves with a hunger for knowledge that has been there since they were both much younger. 

“Ah, I apologize but there were a few more things I wanted to show you first,” Caleb says. “I promise you will have plenty of time to peruse the collection later if that is what you wish.”

“I will be holding you to that,” Essek promises. “But for now, I suppose I am at your disposal.”

Caleb takes Essek’s hand and leads him back to the center dais to take him upward. They pass by floors and Caleb tells him, in brief, what lies on them. Here is the dining hall, here are rooms for his friends should they all have to be away from home for a night or more, for adventuring or otherwise. There is one that is very clearly labeled for Essek, a dodecahedron filled with a galaxy, but he shuffles them on with a promise that they will come back later to check it out. 

“There is something very specific I want to show you,” Caleb reveals as they continue their way upward. 

Luckily, Essek looks even more intrigued by this prospect, and raises his gaze to the next floor. Above them now is a closed brass iris, and they come to a slow stop before it.

“This one is locked by a password,” Caleb explains. “I don’t know if you have noticed this by now, but our friends are very nosy.”

“I had noticed it from time to time,” Essek says dryly. “Though, I must admit that I am honored you would trust me with the password you would not entrust to them.”

“You are always a special case,” Caleb says. “There are few things of mine that I would not trust you with.”

“I am honored,” Essek repeats.

It is with that sincere expression that Caleb mutters, “ Fort, doch nicht vergessen .”

Caleb doesn’t look, but he can feel the expression on Essek’s face. The worry and wonder fighting for a place on it. He very carefully does not look and takes him past the hall of doors and up to the ninth floor. They come up floating in space. Literal space. As soon as the iris closes below the pair, they are swimming in a sea of stars. Not just that, but Caleb watches as Essek twists his head around to look as different outlined versions of himself reflect out into the distance. It is an effect as incredible as when Caleb experienced it for the first time.

“This is…” Essek whispers, dumbstruck. 

“The inside of a Luxon beacon,” Caleb confirms. “Or, the closest approximation I could make when I haven’t actually been inside of one. It’s been living in my head since the day you showed me.”

Months ago, when trying to explain to Caleb what had drawn him so strongly to dunamancy despite not being religious at all, Essek had decided to conjure up a Major Image of what it is like inside of a Luxon beacon. It was one of the most incredible magical experiences he has ever had, and even then, Essek had apologized for not being able to fully capture the experience. It lead into a long conversation about the place of fate and possibility in magic, though neither of them really believe in fate as most would define it. 

“Caleb, this is incredible,” Essek says earnestly. “I cannot believe you were able to recreate it with so much fidelity.”

“I may have made a few tweaks to the base of your illusion based on the descriptions in a few books that you lent me,” Caleb explains. 

“Your imagination,” Essek mutters. 

“I spend a lot of time thinking about possibility,” Caleb starts. “On large scales, like for realms of magical study, but also on small scales, like in my life and the lives of my friends. I think it possible, even likely, that my old teacher will one day come knocking. He is not the sort to leave business unattended, and I am very much his business. I know many things that he would not want to get out, and I do plan on telling the world when the time is right. 

“This is a long way for me to say that I have ghosts following me, and goals for the future, and after a lot of thinking I have come to a conclusion,” he continues. “I do not have to put my life on pause now because of things that might happen or things that I plan to do. And you are a person that means a lot to me, and I don’t plan to exit your life any time soon.”

“I would not let you,” Essek interrupts. “I have just found you again, Caleb Widogast, and I do not plan on letting you go.”

“It pleases me to hear you say that, because I very much feel the same,” Caleb replies, a soft smile spread across his face. “In fact, that’s much of the reason I asked you here. I needed to show you firsthand how much you have affected me. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say you have had a profound impact on the person I am today.”

“And you on me,” Essek says, sincerity dripping from his every word. “I think that without the experiences of our youth and even the newer ones of the past year, I would be a very different person.”

“For me, it is that and more. I love you,” Caleb confesses. “I am telling you this not because I expect anything from you, or that I have any particular vision of how this evening will go after I tell you, but because I think you deserve to know. I hope you will be a part of my life for many years to come and no matter what happens, I will always love you dearly.”

Essek stops, looking wide-eyed at Caleb as he processes the other man’s words. The only thing Caleb can hear is the sound of them breathing and his own heartbeat in his ears. The pause stretches out far longer than the scant seconds Caleb’s mind is dutifully counting away, lasting for a small eternity. Finally Essek lets out a breathless laugh and says, “Oh, you silly man. Of course you would beat me to it.”

Caleb has but a moment to try to process what those words mean before the drow drags him down to his level and presses their lips together. It is as if his brain, usually working at double speed, is entirely frozen by this turn of events. He’s suspected for a while now that his feelings are reciprocated, but guessing at it and knowing it for sure are two different realities. Once he gets his mind in order, however, Caleb kisses back and– Gods above, it is incredible. It’s nothing obscene, nothing more then a chaste press of lips to each other, but there is a sense of longing and wonder and home impossibly contained within that short amount of contact. 

When they separate, Essek looks up at Caleb with deep affection. “I love you more than I know how to express with words. I have been trying to find a way to tell you that didn’t feel like it was trivializing any part of our relationship, and you simply figured out a way sooner, you infuriating man.” 

“I would never take the rivalry out of our friendship,” Caleb says with a very satisfied grin as he gently holds Essek to him. “Just as I would never separate our friendship from my love for you, isilme .” 

It’s nice to be able to use the word in the way he realizes, now, is the way he always meant it, from the moment he figured out what tae’ecelle meant when he studied Undercommon as a youth and vowed to call Essek it’s twin. In a way that says, I love you, I see you, I treasure you. You are a part of me, something that is inextricably tied with me. It’s almost funny how long it took him to realize that every time he said it, what he’d really meant was I love you. But he can say it now and mean it with his whole heart, as battered as that heart is.

Essek hums and closes his eyes, leaning his head against Caleb’s shoulder. “Am I correct in assuming that if we were to go downstairs in your actual home there would be a crowd of very nosy people waiting for word of how this conversation went?”

Caleb laughs. “You would be entirely correct.”

“Then let us stay in your tower,” Essek says, not moving an inch. “I believe you mentioned many rooms we have still not explored. I am still expecting to be given time to peruse the library.”

“Yes. We do not have to go anywhere any time soon. We can wait out the vultures,” Caleb promises. 

And true to their words, neither move an inch for many long minutes, nor do they leave Caleb’s tower for the rest of the night. They have the rest of their lives to enjoy together, and that starts now.