Chapter Text
“You’re shivering, dear.”
Caleb glanced up, startled by the voice—even more so by the person behind it. Molly stood at his feet, framed by firelight and dishevelled in a way that spoke of worries beyond sleep. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still a hint of a smile on his face. How long had he been standing there?
Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ah. I...did not realize you were still awake. You should—”
“As big as that coat of yours is, it doesn’t seem to be keeping the chill away,” Molly interrupted, jerking his chin towards the campfire. “There’s plenty of room near the others, you know.”
When Caleb followed his gaze, he could see the silhouetted forms of the party scattered across the clearing. Shak ä ste was no longer around, slipping out during the aftermath, but a wash of calm exhaustion still fell over the group due to his effort and aid. If Caleb squinted, he could just catch sight of Jester huddled between Nott and Beau, the three girls draped with a dusty linen blanket. Fjord was a bit ways off, also covered in cloth himself. They seemed deep in sleep, chests rising and falling with soft breath. Between them all, an empty bedspread lay.
Caleb turned back to Molly. “I am fine. You should go back and rest. Your turn on watch doesn’t start for another hour.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Can’t sleep anyway,” Molly said, and it was at that moment Caleb noticed the bottle in his hand. “And besides, I thought you could use some company to help pass the time.”
Without waiting for a response, Molly sat down in the dirt beside him. He held out the bottle, the liquid inside sloshing from the movement. Caleb couldn’t tell if Molly’s strangeness was due to the drink inside, or factors beyond his current knowledge. After all, it had only been a month that they knew each other.
Molly must have noted Caleb’s staring, because he held the bottle out towards him.
“It’s just whisky,” he explained. In the dim light, the bottle shone a copper hue. “Pretty shit, according to Beau.”
Caleb made no move towards the bottle, instead choosing to stare at Molly’s clothes, soot-stained and coated in grime. The exhaustion on his face was well-earned, especially after the battle they’ve had.
Molly continued, despite Caleb’s wandering. “She seems like she’s been raised on that hundred-year-old stuff, so I’m not sure I trust her judgement quite yet. Bit pretentious, in my opinion. Whisky is whisky.”
Caleb dutifully kept his eyes off the bloodstains splattered across the other man’s tunic. “I am not a whisky person, myself.”
“It really isn’t all that bad.”
In some places, the bloodstains were already ageing brown. “I’ve never been one for drinking.”
A lie, and a rotten one at that. Caleb just wasn't sure how to explain that no matter how much he drank right now, nothing would still the shaking of his hands.
Or pull his eyes away from those damned stains.
The blood was mostly Gnoll, but Caleb knew traces of Molly’s own mixed in. If Caleb leaned back, he may even catch sight of the fresh scars along the nape of Molly’s neck. But he didn’t. Instead, he stared at the soot stains, remembering all too well where those ashes had come from. What fueled that fire. Who started it.
“I overheard Beau and Nott talking about something, how the really strong liquors can fight off a chill. Yasha and I haven’t travelled anywhere all that cold, so I wouldn’t really know. Maybe you should have a few sips, it might even warm you up—”
“What are you doing here, Mollymauk?” Caleb snapped, looking up to Molly’s eyes.
The other man let out a deep sigh. He placed the bottle down. “Checking in, I guess.”
“Checking in?”
“You’ve hardly spoken since we got back,” he accused. Caleb broke his gaze away. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you keeping your distance.”
“Your worry is wasted on me. It’s nothing,” Caleb insisted. Molly gave him a dubious look. “Truly. I am grateful you are so concerned, both then and now, but it was simply a slip-up. I suppose I got a bit ahead of myself; I didn't realize how much power I put into the spell. Turned out a bit more gruesome than I anticipated.”
Gruesome was an understatement.
The priest was a mistake. Yes, the creature was a menace. He was doing bad things, harming good people, harming this group, and so he deserved punishment. Caleb hadn’t known mercy for many years. And seeing that man, that creature, the instinct took over—and, well, there’s the problem.
The whole fight was a disaster, if he was being honest. From the manticore to its child, they all crossed a few lines. But that is no excuse. He was over-eager, overzealous; the taste of magic intoxicating on his tongue, the feeling of that power veiling like the smoke it brought. Old habits die hard. He was hungry. Blinded by that power. Sent back for just a moment, a moment too long.
And oh, how easy that man crumbled. Ashes at his feet. But, ashes all the same.
Burning harsher than that fire somehow, was the spot on the center of his forehead.
Molly took a moment to appraise him, glancing up and down. Caleb ducked his head out of habit, though Molly didn’t stare long. A thick line traced through the mud as his tail dragged through, settling to curl its spade-tip around Molly’s feet.
“If you say so,” Molly grumbled, resting his chin on his knees. “But I can tell there’s more to the story.”
Caleb let out a huff. “There isn’t much of a story to tell. I simply got ahead of myself. I am not as interesting as you make me out to be.”
Molly cocked an eyebrow at him, smirk coming back full-form. “Funny, I have heard that from a lot of people and every single one of them turned out to be fascinating.”
“Have you paused to think that perhaps you’re simply easy to amuse?”
Molly let out a soft huff of a laugh, elbowing the other man lightly. “Would you look at that, the wizard’s got some snark to him. I knew you had life in you. You did good tonight, you know.”
Caleb allowed himself the smallest of smiles. It was only a moment before it fell once more. “Honestly, Mollymauk. There is no need to check-in. I appreciate the concern, but I will be just fine. I do quite well on my own.”
Odd enough, Molly’s smile began to fade then. His expression turned clouded and thoughtful, a hint of ache crossing his eyes.
That ache seemed to grow, until Molly brought up a new smile, one that couldn’t quite reach his eyes. It settled to die upon his lips, rotting away.
“Caleb Widogast, has anyone ever told you what a terrible liar you are?”
The air fills his lungs, sharp and quick.
It isn’t pleasant, prying his eyes open after such a deep sleep, but Caleb finds the strength. He finds it somewhere in his chest, dusted over with sorrow and ache.
It isn’t pleasant, but it is necessary.
So he does, he opens his eyes, and for what feels like the fiftieth time he wakes up in a bed unfamiliar to him, struggling to take in new surroundings. The room is simple, if a tad gaudy. Paisley-printed walls, framed with heavy curtains that drape down like cobwebs. Dust motes float and scatter as he takes in a deep breath, and Caleb is quick to find that dust motes aren’t the only thing spurred by his movement.
At the edge of the bed upon which he lies, Beauregard breathes too. She’s got her head propped up on the mattress, the rest of her seated in a small stool just off the side of the bed.
When she notices him stirring, her eyes pry open as well, but with far more urgency.
“Wh—Caleb?” she starts, shooting straight up in her seat.
He stares at her for a good long second, but can’t quite decipher if she’s another hallucination or not. He rubs at his eyes, finding them crusted over with sleep. “Beauregard, where—”
Before he can get another word out, Beau lunges across the bed, throwing her arms over his shoulders in a rather rough grip.
Hesitantly he returns the hug, hands hovering just above her skin.
She's muttering words of relief, rambling to herself with a tone tight and fraying. Like a creaky shelf on the verge of collapse.
The last he can recall, she was furious at him. Worried for his safety, as he withered in her arms. The last he can recall, he was trapped in his own mind. Surrounded by hallucinations.
Who is to say that this isn't another one? Another fabrication, sent to lure him into an endless, chained eternity by giving him exactly what he wants? Honey to sweeten the trap; a friendly face upon awakening.
But Beau grips just a bit too tight, and when Caleb finally sets his arm across her back, his friend feels very real and very present.
"I'm glad you're back." Her voice cracks as she says it.
Caleb's breath hitches for a moment. "Me too."
He pulls back, taking in a shaky breath as he tries to simply process the flood of emotions that are currently wracking through him. It is a lot to process, and so soon after awakening, but he finds he can’t quite salve his curiosity without testing a theory.
“Beau, may I say something?” he says, voice still a little rough from sleep.
She blinks at him, still a little in shock herself. “Uh, yeah of course.”
Caleb pauses for one, two, three moments. “My name is Beauregard Lionett. I am an Expositor for the Cobalt Soul.”
She squints at him, clearly taken off-guard by the odd statement. Caleb watches her expression melt and shift, and can’t help the small smile that surfaces on his own face when the realization sets in.
“You can lie again,” she starts, slow and hollow. And then, with far more enthusiasm: “ Holy shit, you can lie again!”
He can barely get a reply out before Beau’s crashing into him again, this time with a hug that is damn near squeezing the breath right out of him.
"Your magic too?" she asks, nearly wheezing out the words.
"Yes, but Beau—" he tries to get out, but ends up with an even tighter hug.
“I’m so fucking glad you’re okay, I just—holy fuck Caleb, I—”
“I know, Beauregard,” he whispers into her shoulder as her words break off. “You are going to suffocate me at this rate, though.”
“I can’t help it, man,” she says into his shoulder, not lightening her grip at all. “The others are going to lose their fucking minds !”
“Is everyone ok? Can I see them?” Caleb asks, suddenly remembering the battle he had left them all in. “The last person I remember seeing was Essek, and it’s all a bit blurry beyond that—”
Beau suddenly tenses up in his arms. She tears herself from the hug, though it doesn’t take much effort on her part to break free.
“Right. You should—we should—I-I’m gonna go get the others,” Beau mutters when she pulls back. She darts away a little too quickly, but Caleb catches a glance of the glistening tears in the corner of her eyes and understands why.
If this is a hallucination, it must be a terrible one. Caleb isn’t sure he’d ever wish for Beau to shed tears on his behalf.
When the others finally filter in, Caleb is swarmed with far more attention than he’d prefer.
He finds out it has been three weeks since he’s woken from his hallucination, and a rather busy three weeks at that.
Since the Xhorhaus was damaged in the creature's attack—the details of which are still lost to him, and the others avoid his questions when he probes—the whole group has taken up residence in a tower of Den Theylss. Essek has been seeing to their care personally, and it seems the tension between him and the rest of the Nein has eased significantly in the time Caleb has missed. Or, at least it appears as such on the surface.
At the first mention of Essek, Caleb can't help but drift his eyes to Beau. She stiffens near-instantly, face twisting into an expression he can't quite place, holding that same discomfort he picked up on towards the end of their exchange earlier.
"It could be worse, I guess," Beau says, words strangely hollow. “This place is kind of bougie.”
“We all have our own rooms, and they're, like, super fancy,” Jester explains, such a vast opposite to Beau, clearly elated by the change of pace.
Nott takes his hand, pulling Caleb's attention to her. "We've been in good hands. Essek cares for us well, even if we hardly see the man."
Caleb frowns. "What do you mean?"
An odd look is shared between the group. Caleb suddenly becomes aware of the guards posted at his door, wearing similar armour to that of the Luxon soldier he had met before.
Fjord clears his throat, casting a glance the guards' way. "Ah, nothing really. The Shadowhand's been quite busy lately, and every free moment he has he spends alone by your bedside. So we don't see much of him. He's doing well, though.”
Nott’s grip on his hands tightens. “He’s been busy. Very busy.”
When she speaks, there is an odd lilt to her tone. If Caleb had not spent so much time with the woman, he may have missed it. But Nott holds his gaze with a seriousness that puts a shake to Caleb’s hands.
“I see,” Caleb says in response. It's an ordeal to even mutter those words. “Where is Essek now?”
Another look is shared between the room, and Caleb feels a pit of dread worm its way into the deepest part of his stomach. A flash of Essek fills his mind, tears down his face, apologies spilling from his mouth like a sinner in confession. The dread twists tighter.
“Where is he?” Caleb repeats, and can’t help the desperation in his tone.
Jester moves to sit at his bedside, placing a cool hand on his forearm. “Oh Caleb, we didn’t mean to worry you. He’s out now, taking care of some things. Boring politics stuff. I'm sure he'll be home in a few hours. He’s safe. Just...busy.”
Nott forces a smile, but it's too wide. It bares her sharp teeth in all the wrong ways. “He’ll be home for dinner, without a doubt! No need to worry.”
Caleb hates the way they all look at him, lips pressed together and gazes wavering. The expressions of liars, silver-lined with good intentions.
And yet, he does not push them.
Now, more than ever, Caleb understands how valuable a lie can be.
It takes some convincing, but after pleasantries and a few more parses of tense, awkward conversation are exchanged, Jester urges everyone out of the room so she may continue her daily healing. It is a task Caleb didn’t realize they had taken upon themselves, though it explains why he’s made such a quick recovery so soon after waking up.
Mentally, he makes a note to present his never-ending gratitude for both Jester and Caduceus. Another tally on the board of ‘things he will never make up for in his lifetime’.
As she begins her healing, Jester takes a seat in the same spot he woke up to find Beau in. The chair itself hardly looks comfortable for someone her size, it’s hard to picture Caduceus perched on it as well. There’s another seat to the side of the room, facing his bed. It’s far more comfortable looking, but it seems out-of-place in the small room. Almost like it was dragged from somewhere else and brought here in the interim.
“Where did that chair come from?” Caleb asks. Jester jumps a little, as if surprised by simply hearing his voice. She might very well be.
“Oh. Ummm...that’s Essek’s chair. It's not like, we’re not allowed to sit in it or anything like that, it’s just that he usually sat there while waiting for you to wake up,” Jester explains.
Caleb couldn't help but stare at it for a few moments, conjuring a very disheartening image of Essek wondering if he'd ever wake up.
Jester bumps his arm a little, snapping his attention away. "Hey. No moping. You're here now, with us, right? We'll be okay."
“Right. I...It is a relief to see you all in one piece." Caleb says as Jester starts the ritual of her spell, hands clasped over his.
Jester nods, squeezing his hands a little tighter. “We’re tougher than we look. We missed our wizard a whole lot, though. I understand why Essek took it so rough. It was...scary, seeing you like that.”
Caleb can't imagine how they felt. He tries to picture one of the others in his place, having to see one of his friends unconscious for weeks without knowing if they'll ever truly wake up. It feels painful.
For him, however, those three weeks passed in the blink of an eye. One bad dream, and he's been shunted forward past all that heartache and uncertainty.
Now, he's left with the increasingly difficult task of figuring out just what he's missed.
Jester shifts in her seat, the potency of the spell wavering as her focus wanes. "You were out for a really long time. Caduceus said you were responding to the healing well, and that you didn’t have any lasting scars...but we were never sure. Even Yasha pitched in with the healing she could do, but it never felt like enough.”
Caleb adds Yasha to his mental list of thank-you’s and pushes forth a small smile. “I’m alright now. Thanks to you all. My memory is still quite fuzzy, but that’s nothing time won’t fix.”
Jester nods slowly. “Do you remember anything from when you were unconscious? Nott swore up and down she could see you mumbling in your sleep, but I thought you were just snoring.”
Caleb waits a few seconds, used to answers spilling forth from his mouth whether he likes it or not. But that doesn’t happen. The truth spell is gone. Whatever he wishes to respond, it is now up to him to find those words on his own.
Somehow, that thought is both relieving and a bit daunting.
He swallows. “I do, ja . I remember most of it. I...It is still quite foggy. Some parts more than others.”
A lie. Using his newly regained ability to its fullest, right off the bat. Honestly, he remembers all of it, in painful detail. Caleb can practically feel the cold breath of the creature prickling against his skin as the memory floods back. How it towered above him, how despite his ability to fight back, his meagre attempts at magic to combat it, Caleb ultimately couldn’t muster the courage to deal the final blow.
How he stared into the eyes of his mother, blue as his own, and the sadness that lay within them.
Jester begins combing her hand over his, as if she were petting a frightened animal into complacency. He appreciates the gesture, but somehow that makes what he is about to detail all the more difficult.
“It was similar to a hallucination,” he begins. “Just like the dreams before it, except much more real. I have a feeling it has to do with how close the creature got, perhaps enhancing its power. It created an illusion of what it thought I would see as a perfect life. It was terrifying, how beautiful it was. How easy it would have been. But...I couldn’t. Not when you were all out there, still. I had to fight against it, once it saw I would not cooperate. It wanted me to choose that fake reality, and abandon you all.”
Jester’s hands still. “Oh. That sounds...really scary, Caleb.” The grip she holds him in turns shaky. “But...was it nice? The dream?”
Caleb huffs. “Does it matter? It wasn’t real.”
Jester nods slowly. “I guess you’re right. But...it must have meant a lot, to make you even think about staying. It must have been nice.”
It was nice, and that's the terrible part.
He doesn’t want to tell her about the fake Essek. It feels immoral, in some way. When he pictures that fake creature, that illusion ready to do anything he wished, it fills him with shame. That figment, nothing but a puppet, threaded with undying devotion and his twisted desires. How could he, even for a minute, fall into that trap?
Caleb smothers that thought, blocking it out before the guilt can even begin to resurface and make him nauseous all over again.
“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I got out. That I am here now,” he replies firmly.
“Yeah. Yeah...you’re right, I guess,” Jester says softly in reply. He can tell she’s holding back. Hiding that she knows he’s full of shit, and that Caleb is leaving things out. He would be too, if the roles were reversed.
Caleb clears his throat. “Regardless, it wouldn't have lasted. Not long after the hallucination shattered, I was freed.”
“How did you get out?” she asks. “We asked Allura, but even she had no idea.”
“It was not of my own strength that I made it out alive,” Caleb explains. “There were mages in the hallucinatory space the creature had trapped me in. They chained him, and were casting spells to banish him, I believe. And then—”
“Mages?” Jester asks, tilting her head.
Caleb frowns. “Yes, mages. That's what the creature had told me. It was chased to the Xhorhaus, by the very same mages that had something to do with its release. I had assumed Allura joined you during the fight? Or even the Bright Queen’s armies?”
Jester shakes her head slowly. “Everything happened, like super fast. Allura showed up waaaaaay after the battle was already over, and we didn’t have time to call the Bright Queen. Before we could do any real damage, it ran away, and then we found what was left of it in the middle of the road. Just a big ol’ smear on the pavement. We met up with Essek after that, and by then you were already stable. We thought you killed it.”
It doesn’t make sense. Caleb didn’t do enough harm to it for the creature to die on its own, and he very clearly remembers there being other magic users present. The only other person he recognized there was Essek, but even he wasn’t combatting the creature, just there to pull Caleb free.
“Did you do any crazy-magic stuff in your head? Maybe you really did kill it, and you just thought up those mages, like they were really just your subconscious or something?” Jester says, gesturing wildly as she parses through her theory.
“Possibly,” he mutters back.
As plausible as it seems, Caleb is hesitant to fully agree to it. There’s something deep in his chest that doesn’t sit quite right with all of it. Those mages were so out-of-place, so familiar yet unexpected, he’d be hard-pressed to accept he simply thought them up.
And if he didn’t think them up, it brings much more worrisome questions.
Why is this the first Jester has heard of other mages at the battle, even if Essek was in his mind space at the same time they were banishing the creature? They’ve been living with Essek for three weeks, have they not discussed the night's events?
Why was Essek so distraught after seeing him, crying in a manner Caleb had never seen from the other man?
Or, was it never really Essek to begin with?
A chill runs down Caleb’s spine. “You said you met up with Essek later on, yes? How did he get separated? I remember him starting in the same room with Beau as I passed out.”
Jester nods. “You’re right. The creature came and totally ruined our whole kitchen, which was a dick move, by the way. I think he did it just to piss us off. And it looked like it wanted to get closer to you, so Beau came to fight with us and she passed you off to Essek so he could take you somewhere safe since he could teleport. He didn’t go far, but I guess it was far enough since the creature died before even getting to you.”
“Did he not say where he took me? Or what happened in that time?”
“Mmm, no. I don’t think so? We haven’t talked about it much, the only time I see him is when I come to do my healing and he’s in the room. Essek’s always too stressed out and sad to actually have a conversation anyway.”
He pictures Essek, sitting in that armchair, night after night. Caleb wonders what he would have done, if it were Essek in danger. If any of the Nein had taken his place.
The thoughts he finds down that trail turn dark and dangerous, and he can feel his pulse quicken.
Suddenly the room feels too small, and the breath filling his lungs swirls with traces of smoke and ash and he can hardly breathe —
“ Caleb ,” Jester’s voice cuts through, insistent.
When he looks back at Jester, her expression is laced with fear and worry. She’s got her hand pressed over his even tighter, now standing up from the chair as if ready to run.
“Are you alright? You got really quiet for a second,” she says softly, as if any louder could lose him again.
Caleb swallows, but his throat feels too tight. “I am fine. Just...tired. I apologize.”
Slowly, she sits back down. “It's been a long morning, huh?”
Caleb lets out a small huff of a laugh. It’s forced, but he isn’t sure Jester noticed. “You could say that. I’m just worried for Essek.”
Jester instantly perks up at that. “I can message him, if you’d like. I’m sure he’d come over right away. Oh, Caleb, it would be so very romantic—”
“That is alright.” Caleb smiles tersely. “I'm sure he is busy, I wouldn't want to disturb him. He's coming home this evening, yes? I could still use a few hours of rest.”
Jester chews at her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”
Caleb couldn't be more grateful that finally, after all those months, he can lie again.
The halls of Den Theylss are far more vast and winding than he remembers. Caleb only traversed them briefly, led by Essek in the dead of stressful nights. But now that he is left to his own devices, the rest of the party out dealing with business regarding the now-rubble of their home, he finds himself with time to spare.
Dark painted hallways twist and curve into each other, branching off into smaller chambers. As much as Caleb would love to snoop around Essek's research compendium, most of the rooms are locked shut. The odd maid or servant drifts by, casting him odd glances. But he continues his wandering, content to roam freely and untangle his nerves.
Now that he's adjusted to his sudden awakening, Caleb has found sitting still nearly unbearable. Moving helps. Pacing, like a madman. He will accept the strange looks from the house staff if it means he can distract himself for even a second longer.
He can’t help how his thoughts trail back to the uncertainties still laying between him and Essek. Like water running through familiar grooves in stone, the path those thoughts walk him down is easy. The distrust is familiar.
Caleb fights against it as much as he can. But even so, it keeps working its way back into his head. He wants nothing more than to live in a perfect world where Essek would never lie to him. But that simply isn’t reality. In fact, it is the exact thing the creature leveraged against him. It picked on Caleb’s desire for an easy life. But that simply isn't realistic. If anything, it’s dangerous to entertain those thoughts for even a second. The only way he can truly pull through in one piece is to talk to Essek. Making assumptions won’t help. And it isn't fair to assume such things without hearing them firsthand from the source.
And if his fears are confirmed...well, what then?
How much strength will he need to muster to accept that lies are part of the deal? Caleb is the one who chose a spy as a lover. What else did he expect?
After nearly an hour of his wandering, Caleb finds himself in a library, the only one not blocked off like the others. The walls are filled end-to-end with shelving, stuffed full with tomes of varying thickness and age. Caleb could spend a lifetime in this room alone, parsing through its contents. He wishes he had such time to waste.
Caleb slowly drags a finger across one of the book’s spines, feeling the texture beneath crinkle against his touch. Many of these tomes are older than they appear, weathered down by use rather than the passage of time.
The picture of Essek in his mind, pouring over the books in the dead of sleepless nights, brings a tender smile to his face.
The smile vanishes in a near-instant when the sound of a door creaking permeates the room.
“Caleb?”
Caleb spins to the source of the sound with a snap of his neck, finding instant familiarity with the tone of that voice. A bit shakier and battered than he's used to, sure. But still. He knows that voice.
Essek stands in the doorway, slender as a willow and hunched with unseen weight. It is hard to make out with the dimness of the room, but even from this distance, Caleb can see he is beautiful as ever. The moment his eyes catch Caleb’s the weight that rests upon him melts away, allowing Essek to raise to his full height before re-freezing there.
For a moment, Essek seems like he’s afraid. Startled beyond words. He steps forward once, twice, yet barely seems to move at all.
“Essek…” Caleb whispers. “I’ve missed you, liebling. ”
That seems to be enough to shake off his fears, because Essek breaks into a near sprint to Caleb’s side.
The other man crashes into him, swathing him in an embrace that nearly topples his balance. He reaches upwards, cradling Caleb’s face between his hands as if something precious and delicate lay in his palms.
“Thank the light you're awake,” he says with a shake of breath.
Caleb rests his forehead against Essek's. "I am here now, schatz . I am okay."
Essek's mouth finds his, and it is every bit as warm and relieving as his embrace. It feels like both the first time and the last, and Caleb catches himself running through his memories for how to proceed, scrambling for some sort of instinct to take over. The feeling of picking up a book you are only halfway finished, the details filling themselves in with gentle flow as you carry on. A clumsy sort of nostalgia. He could get drunk on that feeling alone.
When they break apart, Essek’s eyes are glossy with tears, a hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips.
"You know, every minute you were asleep I imagined this moment. Over and over. A million different ways I would kiss you and never let go.”
Caleb brushes a thumb against Essek’s cheek, catching the tear that rolls down. Another falls down to replace it.
“You’re here,” Essek whispers, leaning into Caleb’s touch. It almost sounds like he’s saying it for himself more than Caleb. “I almost can’t believe it.”
Caleb kisses away the tears on his cheek. “Well. I couldn’t leave you waiting much longer, now could I?”
Essek rolls his eyes fondly. “Yes, well. There are many people who have been awaiting you. I hear even the Queen has issued a summons.”
Caleb’s brow raises. “A summons? From the Bright Queen?”
“It sounds much more formal than it is. The Nein had one as well, to recount that night’s events,” he finishes with a sigh and a dismissing wave of his hand. “But that can wait. For now, you are mine.”
Essek leans back in, capturing Caleb in another embrace.
“I am always yours,” Caleb replies easily, tenderly reaching to brush Essek’s hair from his face.
The expression he finds beneath those matted locks of white is unexpected. There’s fear in there somewhere. Worry. Essek’s eyes jump across Caleb’s face, roaming over each line and feature as if he could vanish at any second.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers, and it sounds like breaking. “In my arms again.”
“I’m here,” he replies. Caleb waits a beat of soft silence before continuing. “Thanks in part to you. You pulled me out, didn’t you?”
Essek’s body turns rigid, as Caleb feared. No—as he expected .
There is no reply.
Caleb carries on, desperate to fill the silence. It comes out far too clumsy, shattering whatever peace and relief they had a few seconds earlier.
“I saw you. You saved me, didn’t you? I still don’t understand how I got out. But I know you were there. You held me in your arms, and told me we had to leave.”
The silence stretches long after Caleb finishes his sentence. Essek’s chin is downturn, eyes swathed in the shadow of the room.
“You apologized to me,” Caleb cuts in once more. “Why did you apologize, Essek?”
Essek flinches, and that bit of movement is worse than any reply Caleb could have imagined in his paranoic frenzy.
He can feel it when Essek pulls away. Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. His arms slide down from Caleb’s shoulders, trailing down and down until then wrap a loose hold around both of Caleb’s wrists. When Essek’s eyes raise back up, they are paired with an artificial smile.
"We have lots to catch up on, my love," he says, far too formally. Essek tilts up, pressing a gentle kiss along the edge of Caleb’s jaw. “There is much business to attend to tomorrow, but perhaps we get some rest now, hm?”
Essek starts to lead him out of the library and towards his chambers, but Caleb plants his feet. He won’t follow. Not yet. The other man’s grip loosens until it lets go, leaving Essek standing alone in the doorway a few steps away. Caleb watches the shadowed outline of his frame shudder.
“Caleb,” Essek says, voice taut. “My love. Please come to bed.”
Caleb shakes his head even though Essek still refuses to face him. “I won’t. Not until you tell me what is so awful that it must wait until morning. What would you have to apologize for? You are worrying me.”
Essek’s hands curl into the fabric of his cloak, shoulders hunched up to his ears. “I...I-It is not something so simple as you are making it out to be.”
“All the more reason for me to hear about it.”
The other man lets out a frustrated breath. “It has been a very long day and—”
“Essek, I need to know the truth. Surely I am owed that much.”
Essek’s head snaps to face him. The dim light of the library didn’t show it, but now that he is framed by the lamplight filtering in from the hall, Caleb can make out just how puffy Essek’s eyes are, despite the sallow bags that lie beneath them. His face is splotchy, breath ragged. He looks like a mess. Still beautiful, but in a shattering sort of way. A heartbreaking sort of way.
“Tomorrow,” Essek says, teetering on the edge of something rather hysteric. “I will tell you tomorrow. Please. I am not asking, I am begging. Let me have one night.”
Caleb is too stunned to say no. To say anything really. Instead, he steps up behind Essek, wrapping slow and careful arms around him, muttering a sound that resembles Okay into the other man’s shoulder. And they retire to Essek’s chamber without another word.
He hardly sleeps at all, that night.
He isn’t sure Essek does, either.
Caleb isn't used to seeing the Bright Queen anywhere but the Throne Room, so the location of his summons comes rather unexpected.
A pair of guards come to escort him to the established meeting place: one of the Queen's many sitting rooms, barred from public view.
He wishes Essek could have come with him. It would have made him more assured, less out-of-place. But then again, with all the uncertainty still weighing on his heart, perhaps it is better that the other man found reason to not come along.
The hall he is led down feels much more homely than the vast expanse of the Lucid Bastion. Portraits of various drow, all dressed in similar regalia, line its walls. Silver plaques engraved with Undercommon lie beneath each portrait, though with his nerves, Caleb can hardly focus enough to make out what they say.
The guards lead him to their destination, opening the door wide enough so he can see through. At the far end of the room, he spots the Bright Queen, donning less formal attire than her usual wear.
She rises when he enters, which feels somehow inappropriate.
"Caleb Widogast," she greets as he steps inside. Oddly enough, the guards do not follow.
He bows deeply, trying desperately to not seem as nervous as he appears. "Your Majesty."
The guards shut the doors behind them, and it takes every bit of Caleb’s restraint not to flinch as they fasten the lock.
Caleb glances back to the Bright Queen just in time to see her hands fold neatly before her, the perfect picture of grace and elegance. But the expression she holds is nothing short of clinical.
“Please, have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the sofa across from her, sitting at the same time.
He does, and tries with every ounce of his being to conjure up the self-assured and confident young man he once was. “I’m honoured you wish to speak to me one-on-one. Though I must admit, I am confused as to why you wished to speak to me alone.”
The Queen narrows her eyes. “Confused. I see. Perhaps I should re-frame this interaction for you if that will clear up your... confusion .”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, judging by the contempt in her voice. The Queen’s back straightens, and despite them both sitting at equal height, he feels she towers over him.
“My summons comes with a purpose. It is not an honour to be brought before the Queen in such a manner, nor should you see it as something I wished to do. See this as simply a necessity. Crossing a task off a very long and tiresome list. I do not enjoy having to balance a war, conflicts within my own nation, and the meddling of the Taldorei Council all at once. I would like very much to clear up how, somehow yet again, you have ended up at the center of it all.”
“My apologies, I did not mean—”
She holds up a hand to stop him. Smartly, he heeds the warning. “I have lived many very long lives Mr.Widogast, and I trust you not to make this conversation any longer than it needs to be. I suggest we cut the pleasantries and get on with it.”
He swallows. “Yes, your Majesty.”
She nods once, but it feels far less like an affirmation and more punctual. The period at the end of a very curt sentence.
Without any further preamble, Caleb goes on to detail the events of that night and as much context required to explain exactly what led them into such a mess. He can’t quite tell if a truth spell or charm has been placed upon him, and Caleb worries that glancing around the room to catch sight of any runes or magical effects would frustrate the Queen further. So he simply talks, carefully leaving out the more... personal , details of the last few months. Particularly regarding Essek and their interactions, only invoking his name where necessary. Caleb only prays the Nein did not say more than needed.
At the end of it all, the Queen wears an unexpected smile. It shoots a bolt of nerves through Caleb like no other.
“Ah, your Majesty? Is something the matter?” he asks hesitantly when she does not immediately respond.
The Queen lets out a sigh that comes off rather...resigned. “After the many recounts I have had to sit through for the past few weeks, yours is certainly the most detailed, Mr.Widogast. Yet somehow, against the odds, it manages to line up with everything your friends say. It is a pleasant surprise.”
Caleb replies with a hesitant nod. He can’t quite tell what angle she is coming from. “It is all the truth, Your Majesty.
Her lips purse at that. “The truth. Yes, well, I should certainly hope so. One would consider you an expert on all that after this whole ordeal.”
Caleb clenches his fists. “Yes. Of course.”
If he wasn’t staring at her expression with such intensity, Caleb may have missed the moment the Queen’s face shifted into something far darker.
He regrets immensely coming alone to this place.
“Despite the many years I have endured, I am not a patient woman, Mr. Widogast,” she begins. “I am, however, wise enough to know when it is more beneficial to wait than rush into things unprepared. There is one topic I have refrained from speaking to your friends on, as I have wished to hear it straight from you, specifically, Caleb Widogast. ”
The way she says his name does not bode well.
Her tone was unlike anything Caleb had heard from her before. It was not the regal voice of a Queen, graceful and sharp as a whip-crack. No, her tone now was dark as an axe-head, heavy and unrelenting, leaving rubble behind with every blow.
“I have heard many details about what transpired within your homestead, and how it came to be that a group of Tal'dorei mages thought it wise to meddle in the Dynasty's matters. Endlessly, I have heard about the councilwoman and that infernal creature that plagued you and your party. About your illness, about my Shadowhand’s... attachment , to you—"
Caleb bites his tongue hard enough to draw blood, fighting the urge to interrupt.
“—even about the druidic village that offered their aid. And yet, there is one answer I have yet to receive.”
Caleb takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst, preparing for a question he has no way to lie around. Words spin through his mind like spools of unwinding thread, tangling and zipping past with such intensity they burn his fingers when he reaches for them. He needs something, anything , any way he can come out of this while sparing Essek, his friends, his family from—
“Why were there Empire mages in Rosohna that night?”
Caleb’s thoughts come to a crashing halt.
“Pardon?” he asks, dumbstruck enough to forget his prior reservations for speaking. “I-I am unsure of what you mean, I know of Allura Vysoren’s presence but nothing stretching into the Empire—”
The Queen’s jaw shifts and clenches, brow furrowed in anger. “There is no point in denying your past involvement. The time you have spent unconscious I have issued countless of my own agents to look into your history. I know you worked under a member of the Cerberus Assembly in the past. While they have found no point of contact between you and them now, it is all rather convenient. Your presentation of the Luxon beacon back to us restrained me from searching into your history too deeply. But this level of treason is something I can not overlook. Speak the truth, or I will be forced to pry it from you.”
Caleb can hardly stop his jaw from dropping. She thinks...he’s been working with the Assembly?
“Your Majesty, I swear to you I have no connection with them. I may still harbour loyalties to the people of the Empire, but I see the Cerberus Assembly as a plague upon the nation. I would never work with them—”
“ Enough of your falsehoods ,” she seethes, holding an outstretched hand. Magic swirls within her palm, shooting from her fingertips in a burst of pale moonlight that strikes against him with a sensation he instantly recognizes as a truth compulsion spell.
Caleb’s first instinct is to fight against it, clenching his eyes shut and bowing his shoulders in, shouldering the weight of her magic as it wraps its leaden grasp upon him. But then, he realizes he has nothing to hide. At least, nothing pertaining to this particular concern.
When Caleb’s eyes reopen, he witnesses the Queen’s confused expression as her spell takes hold with no resistance. She straightens herself, hand still outstretched, regaining her composure.
“How did the Empire mages enter Rosohna?” she snaps at him.
“I do not know,” he answers honestly.
“Who allowed their escape?”
“I do not know.”
“How did they kill the creature?”
“I do not know,” he says, hiding his surprise at that piece of information. “Your Majesty. I was not aware that Empire mages had been there that night to begin with. Whatever they did, it is not something I am aware of. I wish there was more I could do. I wish I knew what they had done.”
The Queen opens her mouth to ask another question, but she falters. Her hand slowly lowers, falling harmlessly at her side. Caleb releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“You truly have nothing to do with them...do you?” she asks, her voice taking on the softest tone she’s had all day.
Caleb nods solemnly. “I apologize, your Majesty. If you wish us to look into it further, the Nein and myself can certainly—”
“That much will not be necessary,” she interrupts curtly. The Queen presses a hand to her lips in thought. “I will simply have to search further for the culprit with a little more fervour than expected.”
She turns away then, crossing her arms over her chest as a pensive expression overtakes her.
“You are dismissed, Mr.Widogast. I appreciate your candour,” she says distractedly.
He stands there for a long moment, unsure if it would be impolite to step away while she starts parsing through the information he has given her. Caleb has never seen the Queen so stripped down like this, exposing at the core a leader who is simply concerned for the wellbeing of her nation. Confused and struggling to put the pieces together as they all are. He hesitantly takes a step back, before walking towards the exit at a quick yet cautious pace.
Before Caleb can reach the door, she calls out to him once more.
“One more thing, Mr.Widogast,” she says to his back. Caleb feels the gentle tug of her truth spell, still wavering over him, pull taut as he comes to a stop.
He casts a glance over his shoulder, ignoring the pit of worry that works its way through his stomach, chest, heart.
The Queen’s stare is clinical once more. "Note I would not ask you this if I weren’t familiar with your...situation. As I hear you are currently occupying his homestead, please tell Shadowhand Essek to pay me a visit. Though your answers were quite...illuminating, I have yet to hear his side of the story. You wished to help, yes? Inform him I require his presence immediately.”
Caleb fights to hide the frown that twists on his lips. Had he not been summoned the same as the Nein already? Surely the Queen has channels of communication for summoning Essek herself, why would she require Caleb’s intervention?
Caleb nods. “Of course, your Majesty. I will tell him as soon as possible.”
The Queen’s expression puckers as if a sour taste had filled her mouth.
And when she speaks, all the puzzle pieces fall into place.
“Good. I do not like being ignored.”
When Caleb returns to Den Theylss, he restrains himself from sprinting through the halls in search of Essek. Thankfully, he does not have to hold himself back for long—he finds Essek on the first floor, guided by the sound of idle chatter coming from the kitchen.
Caleb comes to a screeching halt at the door—perhaps he was sprinting after all—and is struck momentarily dumbfounded by the scene he finds within.
Jester and Essek stand behind a white marble counter, both leaning forward over it as they knead dough over its flour-dusted surface. Mixing bowls of all shapes and sizes scatter across the table, and Caleb spots Nott dipping her fingers into one of them as the goblin watches the two at work from her spot on a barstool.
They are caught in gentle conversation, chattering lightly as they work the dough. Essek’s usual formal wear is discarded, replaced by a simple dress shirt and slacks, mostly covered by the black apron tied around his waist. He seems...relaxed. Such a stark contrast to the interaction Caleb had just returned from. Frustration gives him enough courage to shatter the idyllic scene.
The three look his way as he steps further into the room, taking on expressions so starkly contrasted Caleb can barely catch the intricacies of them all.
Jester brightens upon seeing him, brushing off a bit of flour from her cheek. “Oh Caleb, you’re back! And just in time—we’re making pastries! They were kind of supposed to be a surprise for you since you’re awake now, but whatever. We haven’t really decided what kind of shapes we’re doing yet, so you can still suggest something and we could totally—”
Nott cuts Jester off before she can ramble any further. “Caleb, are you alright?”
He isn’t, not even a little bit. But there is no longer a truth spell pulling words from his mouth, so that bit of thought rests with him and him alone.
Caleb swallows the lump in his throat. “I am fine,” he says, shifting his gaze away from the perceptive eyes of his goblin friend. “Essek, can I speak to you? In private?”
Essek freezes for a moment, stopping his movements mid-knead. The other man lets out a light huff of a laugh, one so artificial even Jester and Nott cast an odd gaze his way.
“Essek—”
“No need to be in such a rush. We should be done with the pastries in an hour or so, and I know your meeting with the Queen must have been stressful,” he begins, far too casual. “Why not rest for a bit? We can speak then—”
Caleb, quite frankly, is tired of playing this game. He stops holding back. “Why are you ignoring the Bright Queen?”
Essek forgets about the dough altogether, hands falling away and limply to his side as he stands in sudden shock. Jester and Nott’s eyes widen the size of saucers, heads slowly pivoting in Essek’s direction.
The calm smile upon the drow’s face leaves without a trace, settling into careful blankness as he brushes his hands on the apron. There’s a stretch of silence, one laced with far too much tension for Caleb’s liking. Essek addresses the two girls without even looking their way.
“My apologies Jester. You may have to finish on your own here. Nott, could you perhaps take over for me?” he says, jerking his chin towards the dough as he sets to unwrapping the apron from around his waist.
Nott nods back hesitantly, hopping down from her stool and dragging it over. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Jester’s lips curl into a pout. “Oh. Well. Um—did you want us to wait for you? Or did you want to talk with us as well? I could go get the others and—”
Essek doesn’t respond, simply stepping around the counter and towards Caleb, dropping the apron on the counter as he passes. He ushers Caleb out of the kitchen and away from the two girls, holding his arm in a shaky grip the whole way. Jester doesn’t call out after them, instead catching Caleb’s eyes as he is dragged out of the kitchen. He tries to offer some reassurance, but a second of contact is all he gets before the door shuts behind them.
Essek doesn’t stop once they are simply out of the kitchen, pulling Caleb along with him all the way up the spiralling stairs until they reach Essek’s chambers. His grip is loose enough that Caleb could pull free at any opportunity, though he relents and allows Essek to guide him.
Once they are finally behind closed doors, Caleb picks up on one particularly worrying detail.
“Your bags are packed,” Caleb says, noting the several satchels laid in a pile by Essek’s bed.
Essek brushes a shaky hand through his hair, taking a couple of steps away from Caleb. “I didn’t want to have this conversation now. I was going to wait until later on, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”
His movements are frantic, erratic. It scares Caleb more than he’d like to admit. He isn’t used to seeing the other man so...unprepared.
When Essek turns to face him, his eyes are deeply serious. “How much do you know?”
The words do not come forth easily. Caleb crosses his arms over his chest. Less in a frustrated manner, and more protective. If Essek picks up on it he doesn’t comment on it.
“Caleb, if you do not tell me what you know I will not know where to start.”
Caleb clenches his jaw. “You have been working with the Empire. That much I know.”
Essek doesn’t seem surprised. He simply nods, urging Caleb to continue.
He does, and it’s painful. “I-I do not know how your correspondence began, though I figure it has been for a while. Possibly longer than you’ve known us. You are the one who let them into Rosohna. And you are the one who told them where the creature would be. Where I would be.”
Caleb can’t help the hurt that finds its way into his voice. Essek takes a step towards him. Caleb takes one back in response.
“Caleb,” he says, exasperated. “It isn’t all like you think—”
Caleb shakes his head fervently. “No. You betrayed us. You know my history with them. Did you not stop for a second to consider what they could have done to me? What they could have done to you, if they found your involvement not worth the trouble?”
Essek’s jaw sets. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself. But there...I couldn’t protect you. Caleb, you have to understand, I could not stand idly by and watch that creature tear you away—”
“They could have killed you!” Caleb cuts in with a shout, the anger in his chest finally bubbling up to the surface. “They could have killed all of us!”
He can see the way Essek struggles to reign himself in. How his fingers dig into his own palms with enough force to bruise. “And that creature almost killed you! If I could have done it on my own, I would have. But I was not strong enough to save you. To kill that creature as they managed to. And I was desperate.”
Caleb simply stares on, a wave of cold smothering the heat from his voice. “That does not excuse your actions. You’ve been working with them regarding this creature from the start, haven’t you? That’s why you went with us. That’s why you stuck close to me. That’s why you argued to capture it rather than kill it—all so you could pass it off to the Assembly. Beau knew it, and I should have listened.”
Essek’s hands unfurl. “I am not sure what you expect from me. If all you seek is confirmation, then yes. You were right. Beau was right. The Assembly wanted that creature to study, and offered me a share of the research should I aid them in getting their hands on it. But that is the extent of my dealings. And once we became...once we were together...well, I cut them off. As much as I could while holding my end of the bargain. I told them nothing of you, or us, or the Nein. I would never have jeopardized that.”
Caleb stares at him for a long, unbreaking moment. He hopes Essek can see the hurt in his eyes. “You should have told me. Told any of us.”
Essek shakes his head solemnly. “And what, have this argument a few months in advance? We’ve worked on different sides from the start. This was inevitable. It was simply a matter of postponing as long as I could.”
Caleb steps closer until he is sure Essek can feel the heat of his breath upon his face. “You are wrong. I do not work for the Dynasty. I do not work for the Empire. I work for myself . For my family . And, as of late, for you.”
Essek flinches, turning his stare to the ground. “Caleb—”
Caleb doesn't let him get more than a word in. He brings a hand to Essek’s cheek, carrying on despite the second flinch he sees, this time feeling it beneath his fingertips.
“Caleb…” Essek breathes, softer this time.
“I am upset,” Caleb begins, keeping his tone as level as possible. “I am angry. But that does not take away from my love for you. More than anything, I am hurt that you could not trust me with something so monumental. Especially when you knew my ties with it. Especially as you do not regret it now.”
Essek takes in a shuddering breath. “I...It would be a lie, to say I regret everything. I thought about it. What I would do, if I could go back and erase these past few months from existence. Despite what I have done, if it meant I could still have you at the end of it, I would have done it all over again.”
If he were any other man, Caleb would have every right to walk out right then and there. But Caleb sees a mirror within Essek’s eyes. Like him, Caleb knows what it is like to live a lie. To become so tangled within that web it seems hopeless to begin unravelling the threads.
And to somehow find yourself at the end of that lie with a life you could have never predicted. One you would never trade away, even if it meant sparing yourself the pain and heartache.
Caleb takes in an uncertain breath. “I...understand where you are coming from. It will take time for me to accept, and the others may not be so willing as I am, but...I do not want to lose you over this.”
Essek’s eyes search his, looking for something Caleb can’t even decide upon. ”Do you truly mean that?”
Caleb nods. “Yes. That is what I am here for. To accept your shortcomings as you accept mine And for everything in between, we will face that together.”
Essek embraces him then, pulling Caleb close and tight against his chest. Arms wrap around him with such a sudden intensity Caleb nearly finds himself out of breath.
“Essek?” he whispers.
Caleb can feel a soft hitch of breath against his shoulder. “I am sorry. For everything.”
Caleb reaches up, carding gentle fingers through Esseks hair. “I know.”
They stay like that for what feels like hours, though surely can only be a few minutes. At the end of it, he feels Essek pull in closer once more, taking in slow, laboured breaths before he starts speaking.
“I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve you,” Essek says with a shudder, clutching Caleb’s shirt tighter, enough to wrinkle the fabric.
“So many things," Caleb whispers back. "But none of them ever really mattered, because I would have loved you all the same.”
Caleb reaches forward, brushing the hair from Essek’s eyes, pushing back those white strands matted with tears.
He tries to be gentle. As gentle as he can, anyway. All softness and ease to contrast the harsh lines of Esseks sorrow.
Essek’s questions are never-ending. It feels as if he’s planned so much of his time, all spiralling down into this single moment. Convergent paths crashing into each other, settling to a single point in time. But time does not still so easy. You carry on, as you must, and you keep moving. To pretend as if it simply ends with you is a fool’s wish. The truth is, it carries on without you. In spite of you. Caleb didn’t understand that, not until recently, and Essek won’t for a long time. He is content with that knowledge, somehow.
There is still the matter of Essek’s treason. Of the crimes he will have to face. As much as Caleb wishes he could shield him and give the other man time to work through this pain, the rest of the world is not so patient. But despite Caleb’s fears, he holds on. He would hold on forever if he had to.
For each choice they make going forward, there are hundreds of outcomes. Some worse than others, and some they will never know. And yet, there is but one path they can take.
And for each question Essek asks, Caleb has but one answer:
“We will face that together, won’t we?”