Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started with violent coughing muffled behind walls.

Caleb was in his home after work. He got there later than usual for a quick stop at the market—his kitchen was looking sad and empty—and then started preparing a small dinner for himself. 

Having company over was not planned nor anticipated from a short notice sending. 

But there is violent coughing coming from upstairs, and a chair roughly squeals across the floor of the study. Any sound would be worth investigating, but that’s plenty enough to alarm him. Not because he feels he is in danger. Nobody had been here earlier, and nobody had entered through the door. Not one of his extensive security wards alarmed him of anyone crossing their threshold. No, it's alarming because there's only one person who could teleport to his home and he never came unannounced.

He wastes no time dropping the knife and abandoning the carrots he had been cutting up for his stew and hightails it up the stairs.

“Hallo?” he calls out cautiously. It was him, he's sure, but he may not be alone. A disguise might be hiding Essek from him still.

No response. More coughing.

He's not sure he's ever heard him full-on cough before.

The door to the study opens with little care and off to the side of the room is none other than the bloodied, dirtied clothed, and horrifically bloody palmed Essek Thelyss. There's blood that has dripped onto the floor in a trail to the chair. The chair has blood all over the back in the shape of a clumsy hand.

He's moving toward him before he finishes taking it in. “Scheiße, Essek, what happened?” 

Essek looks quite dazed, but tension drops in his shoulders and a relieved smile creeps onto his face at the sight of Caleb Widogast.

“Ambush. I,” Essek hurriedly rushes out, “did not…”

He doesn't finish the sentence.

“Sorry,” he says instead. “I hope I'm not intruding.”

Caleb bites down a careless, snappy response about how he does not need to apologize. About how Caleb wants him here. Over how he wants him alive and not dead in the streets of a random town or in the middle of nowhere because he was feeling too polite to get blood on his friend's floor.

“Never,” he says softly instead. “Where are you hurt?”

Essek breathes. It scratches his throat wrong, audibly, and he coughs the air back out. “Ribs and, um,” Essek reaches around the back of his neck, the back of his head, where more blood smears onto his hand. “My head, but I– Forgive me,” he guiles a smile. A wry, unpleasant thing. On his lips is certainly a joke that will not land. “I think I may be a bit concussed.”

Caleb grabs his bicep and pulls him up from the chair. “You can walk?”

Essek drunkenly stumbles toward him, definitely concussed. “Yes, yes, I can walk.”

“Come, let's clean you up, dear,” and he's guiding him to the bathroom that is stocked with bandages, healing components, and a couple healing potions. They were rarely touched, kept just in case things like this happened.

He hated it when the supplies depleted. Hated it when someone needed it. Hated that it ever needed to be restocked because that meant it was necessary to anticipate someone comes to him like this. Bloody and injured. Or worse.

He will always restock it without complaint. 

He guides Essek to sit on the toilet as he grabs a healing potion from the cabinet above the sink. His poor friend is quiet, his eyes tracing along the stone trim and tiled floor. Caleb wants to ask what happened. He wants every detail. Right now, Essek needs to stop bleeding and get a new change of clothes.

“Are you safe?” Caleb asks instead. It does not require a detailed answer, but the most important. It asks: How quick do I need to be? Can I send you somewhere that is safe? Can I keep you safe?

“For now.”

A tension he did not realize was tugging at his back muscles and shoulders relaxes. Relief. That’s the closest Caleb will ever get to a yes.

The healing potion is placed in Essek’s hand and Caleb turns on the tub faucet. He lets it run under his fingers till it’s warm, but not scalding hot, then he plugs the drain and lets it slowly fill. 

When he turns, it’s hard to tell Essek drank the healing potion with all the blood still drying on his sides and the overall disheveled appearance he has, though his eyes are looking at Caleb with more precision than they were before. The concussion had healed then. Good.

He imagines Essek would look disheveled, ambush or not. It does not look like he’s been taking good care of himself as of late; hasn’t for a few months now. Since their trip to Aeor together. Since Essek started his life in hiding. Always on the move. Never safe to linger. Caleb understands, and so he does not comment on it. He only makes sure a bath and a full meal is always welcome in the safety of this home with wards and likewise guarding against scrying eyes.

On the side of Essek’s head where his hair was once shaved on the side is now growing out. The curls puff out indiscriminately, not yet falling into a cohesive pattern like the rest on his head. He’s not sure if it’s intentional or if he simply has not had the time to cut it. Oddly, it looks nice. Caleb hopes he continues to grow it out a little more. It gives his face a softer edge. 

Caleb places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly when his soft smile is returned. 

“I will set out a change of clothes for you in my bedroom. If they’re salvageable, we can wash these later.”

“May I request something soft?” Essek asks. Caleb's heart patters in his chest. If he wanted something soft he was not anticipating leaving soon.

“Yes, of course. Clean yourself up,” if Essek hasn’t used prestidigitation yet then surely he’s not capable. “You may use anything you like,” Essek already knows this, however Essek is Essek and does not ever impose himself without permission. “Take as long as you wish.”

“Thank you,” Essek says softly. 

“Always, schatz.” One more thing before he leaves. He cups Essek’s cheek. Some of the blood gets smudges onto his hand, but he couldn’t care any less. “Would you like some beef stew?” 

“Please.”

“Gut,” he says. Leans forward and gives him a kiss on the forehead. “It’ll be ready soon. Come to the kitchen when you’re done.”

He leaves Essek to wait for the tub to fill. He hopes it'll give him a moment to decompress. His bedroom is a bit of a mess right now, which he feels the tiniest amount of embarrassment over. It’s nearing the end of the Fall term and he has been so busy with tutoring and work at the Cobalt Soul that his study has started to spread all the way into his bed itself. The closet is just as organized as it usually is, and in the far right corner are all of Essek’s things that have slowly accumulated a permanent home here. 

He doesn’t actually know about it, which slightly defeats the purpose of it being Essek’s, but the longest he has ever stayed was less than two days. His visits are welcome and inconsistently frequent, but always fleeting. He typically trances in the living room even though Caleb told him he was welcome to join him in bed. It’s lost on him why, but he won’t press. Whatever he feels comfortable doing is okay.

Caleb’s not sure he’s ever been in his room, even momentarily, but he would not mind him entering. Deciding to put the clothes in here instead of placing them outside the bathroom door was intentional. He wanted Essek to come in here.

What’s mine is yours, he wanted to tell him. This home is yours as much as it is mine, no matter how short the time you spend here is. I love you. Let me love you. 

Caleb fishes his way through each piece of clothing, some of which he had bought for him on a whim but had never actually given the drow. The others would surely tease him for it, but he didn't mind. He'd do the same for them too if circumstances called for it. 

He chooses a simple, but hopefully comfortable outfit; a long-sleeved black tunic, a dark-purple shawl with beautiful intricate laced edges, and black pants. There’s a necklace that he got for Essek as well. It’s a platinum pendant with a four-sided star. It’s not anything super fancy and nothing compared to some of the jewelry Essek has worn in the past, but it made him think of him when he saw it. And he could afford it. He didn’t really think about it, just knew it would look nice on him. He’s been meaning to give it to him for a while now, but it always slips his mind when he visits, and by the time he has the chance to grab it Essek is already gone. He pockets it to give him once he joins him for dinner.

He folds the clothes neatly on the mattress and heads back to the kitchen. As he passes the bathroom, the sound of running water has ceased. He quickens his pace to the stairs, as if he is somehow invading Essek’s privacy despite a closed (likely locked) door between the two of them.

Caleb is patiently stirring the finished stew when he hears the soft footsteps of Essek’s shoes clacking toward the kitchen. When they stop at the doorway, Caleb looks over his shoulder to see him leaned against the stone arch with a soft smile on his face.

The clothes fit him nicely, just as he hoped they would, and the purple shawl compliments his skin better than he thought. For as casual as they are compared to the more elegant clothes Caleb had grown accustomed to seeing him adorn, they suit him, and Caleb’s chest pangs at the hope that one day he could see him like this more often. Essek just fits in here. Like a missing piece of a puzzle. Like a final coat of paint.

“Hallo, friend,” Caleb greets.

“Hello,” Essek lightly echoes back.

“You look nice,” he says. Beautiful, he means. “I hope they are to your liking. They’re yours to keep.”

“Thank you, Caleb, really,” Essek’s hands awkwardly, politely fold together. “You are too kind.”

“Nein,” Caleb grabs two bowls and ladles the stew into them. “It’s nothing.”

He takes the four steps to his kitchen table. It’s small and round with only two wooden chairs beside a green and yellow stained mosaic window that looks out into his back garden. The  center has a small basket with a bit of red wine and a couple loaves of bread. A small offering he usually sets out for guests. He places both bowls on the table and pulls out a chair for Essek before turning back to the cabinets.

“Would you like some water?” Caleb asks as he grabs two wine glasses.

“I'll just take the wine,” Essek declined.

Caleb sets the glasses on the table, but steps toward Essek before taking his seat. Essek’s eyes follow him as he steps closer with a curious, quirked brow.

“I have another thing for you,” Caleb pulls out the necklace a little nervously, dearly hoping he was not overstepping by being overzealous. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while, actually”

Essek carefully pulls the chain from his grasp and examines it with an awestricken wonder in his eyes. “You spoil me, Widogast.” The necklace clicks behind his neck and he fusses with where it rests for a moment.

He sits across from Essek. Essek pours himself a glass.

“What happened?” Caleb finally asks.

Essek circles the glass as if casting a spell. “I got careless,” Essek pauses. “Thankfully, I don’t believe they knew who I was.”

Caleb frowns.

“They were a group of enslavers, and I simply found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Essek takes a sip of his wine. “One of them had been able to see through my disguise. A wizard. He was able to cast an antimagic field and for a moment I was… Well, without magic I’m not a very capable fighter. They attacked and I was outnumbered.”

“Are you certain they did not recognize you?”

“I can’t be sure,” Essek says matter-of-factly. All business, no emotion. “It didn’t seem like it. If I’m lucky, only rumors of a drow spotted in Tal’Dorei may start spreading in bad circles and no one will know to think it might have been me.”

“How did you deal with them?”

“I didn’t,” Essek sets the glass down on the table. Now he looks a little upset. “I stumbled out of the antimagic field and the moment I was able I teleported away. Somewhere further south, I think, out of sight of any town. I ensured I had not been tracked in any way before teleporting here. And, if it wouldn’t be a bother…” Essek starts slow. “I won’t return to Tal’Dorei for a while, just in case, and I believe with your wards it would be in my best interest to stay here for a bit.”

Caleb nearly drops his spoon mid journey to his mouth. He maintains enough self-control to lower it instead.

“Just until I can be sure what kind of attention, if any, I am dealing with,” he finishes. It's a sound plan. Stay out of the spotlight, stick around somewhere guarded to ensure he does not fall into a trap, but only temporary. Stay too long and he might risk his safe haven too.

“Of course, Essek. You are always welcome. How long do you think you’ll need?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he answers honestly. “A week at least.”

That would be the longest Essek has ever stayed. Despite the circumstances, Caleb can’t fight the toothy smile that breaks across his face.

“I will cherish your company then,” he tells him sweetly.

Essek’s schooled cordial mask melts with a soft look at Caleb.

“As will I.”

Chapter Text

After they finished dinner, Essek made himself comfortable on Caleb's sofa with a book on Transmutation Theory that he nabbed from one of Caleb’s bookshelves. Caleb sat beside him and went over some notes for the students he was currently tutoring. There was also a guest lecture Astrid had asked him to partake in that he needed to work on.

The night fell into a familiar routine the two had whenever Essek spent the night. Caleb retired for bed. Essek continued to read. Caleb woke up roughly eight hours later and Essek bid him good morning with a fresh brew of tea from some tea leaves Caduceus left for Caleb. He didn't leave this time. Caleb went to work. Essek, of course, stayed inside. When Caleb returned, Essek would greet him, be holed up in the study mulling over some new theory, or reading. And Caleb would join him, then they’d eat, Caleb would go to bed, he’d wake up, he’d leave, come home, and they’d drift close. Share soft looks. Catch each other staring.

It was a familiar song and dance that lasted for three nights.

On the fourth, Caleb dreamt of being strapped to a chair and of crystals digging into his arms. He woke with a familiar scratch in his throat that he recognized as his own panicked shouting before he registered the blankets bunched under his grip and the faint moonlight creeping into the room from behind thin curtains didn't align with where his mind thought he was. 

His night terrors were not nearly as common as they used to be, but they liked to sneak up on him every now and then. He’s not sure what incited this one, if anything did at all, but he can’t think about that right now when his lungs feel like they’re going to collapse in his chest.

With shaky limbs, he crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. His skin tingled, haunted by ghosts of pain that left him gripping the sink to stop himself from digging nails into his forearms, and his breath heaved with dissipating blind panic. The bathroom is sterile. Kept clean usually, but recently deep cleaned after Essek's abrupt visit. It makes Caleb's skin itch. He doesn't feel here. He's not in this bathroom. He's in another room. He's sitting in a chair. The wall. Staring. He's not here. A bathroom counter is clutched underneath his hands. Knuckles are turning white. It feels separate. His brain is not his own. He can't think. He can't think. He needs to be here. He is not there. He is not there. He is not there. He is not there. He's not. Not. Not.

“Caleb?” 

He flinches. Recoils. His hand flexes in a familiar motion and there's something hot shooting out of his palm.

It does not work. Essek, gods bless him, can cast a quick counterspell.

He reluctantly stands at the doorway, hand still raised a little as if anticipating more. “Sorry,” he consoles, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nein,” Caleb shakes his head. It’s dizzying. “Es ist in Ordnung. Alles ist gut. Dir geht es gut.” He takes two more deep breaths before he addresses Essek properly. “Did I wake you?”

Essek regards him with a careful look and steps into the bathroom’s threshold. “No, I finished trancing about an hour ago.”

“Gut,” Caleb says. More to himself than Essek, really. “Sorry.”

Essek places a hand on the counter. His fingers brush against Caleb’s but do not settle into a real touch.

“Are you alright?” he whispers. 

Caleb nods his head and replies with a shaky, “Ja,” that doesn’t fool either of them. He clears his throat. “I had a nightmare. I don’t have them as often, but sometimes they like to catch me off guard. And this one is—Scheiße!” He hisses more than he swears. A sharp pain stabs into his arm and he pulls away his right hand and sees blots of blood coloring his nails. When did he start scratching?

He shook his bloody hand then shakily turned the sink back on to wash it off. He couldn’t stop shaking. A shameful look in the mirror showed him the tremors wracking across his body. He gasped a few times, air still not agreeing with his lungs. His knuckles are white. They are gripped against a counter. Around a sink. Sometimes he does not feel like the Caleb Widogast who helped defeat Trent Ikithon and stopped a war. Sometimes he did not feel like a man who looked god-like power in the eye and decided it was not his right to risk the world for his selfish desires and burned his parents two times over. Sometimes he is the animated corpse of Bren Ermendrud who should've wasted away in an Asylum. Broken. His vision tilted. He stopped being able to see himself. His face meant nothing to him. He did not have hair this long and his cheeks were supposed to be hollow, shrinking into his bones. Malnourished. Healthy didn't suit him. He wasn't supposed to look healthy.

He watched through the mirror as a purple hand reached out to his shoulder. He stared at it through the mirror with unfocused eyes. His mind is vacant. There's a firm weight pressing down on his shoulder. He blinked. Did he blink? He barely registered the other hand casting some healing spell on his bleeding arm, but he saw the glow of the magic and the scratches disappeared as though they never existed in the first place. 

Essek’s grip on his shoulder held him steady for the two minutes and twenty-two seconds it took him to regain control of his breathing. When he finally felt like he could breathe again, his hand crossed over himself to rest on top of Essek’s. He closed his eyes. He is here. He is here. In his bathroom. It is 4:37 in the morning. 

A hand gently grabbed his chin and pulled it toward Essek’s concerned face. “Are you back with me, Caleb Widogast?"

Caleb shakes his head. No, he's not. He probably won't be for a while.

"Do you need anything?”

Caleb shakes his head again. He's not sure, but if he does he doesn't know what. Essek exhales softly.

“You should go back to sleep.”

He should, but he’s not sure he can. He doesn’t respond. Essek has never seen him this out of it before, not since the T-Dock nearly two months ago in Aeor. Even then, he had at least been responsive. He wonders if he'll be mortified come morning when he's in his right mind, but no, Essek regards him with a respect and gentleness that makes Caleb want to ask questions too. There is no pity in his expression. It's resigned. These actions feel rehearsed, Caleb realizes, and his eyes look far away too. Like maybe he too is not fully in the bathroom with him either. He wonders, what experience does Shadowhand Essek Thelyss have with steadying broken minds caged in their own tormented memories? Does he suffer like this as well? Is it another horrible thing they share?

Essek’s arm snakes behind his shoulder and he pulls him toward the hallway. To the bedroom. To Caleb’s bed. He gently guides Caleb to sit. He hovers as Caleb lies back down and tries to situate himself back into a comfortable position. Once it seems like he’s going to stay there, Essek’s posture straightens and his feet brace to begin moving toward the door.

His weight leans back and Caleb snatches his wrist before he can walk away. 

“Stay?” he asks. It comes out tired. Sad. Essek is real in ways he is not right now. Somewhere not so deep inside it’s a desperate plea for more that he will not dare to ask for. 

Essek freezes for a quick moment before his body drops with a sympathetic sigh. He moves toward the bed and Caleb scooches further over to make room for him. Essek crawls beside him and lies on his side facing Caleb. He’s so close Caleb can feel the tickle of his breath. Essek raises his hand and places it on top of Caleb’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the tired eye bags protruding his face. He places a chaste kiss on his forehead and pulls Caleb’s head underneath the crook of his neck.

He can hear his heartbeat from here. He can feel it too. It's nice.

“Go to sleep, love,” he murmurs. A soothing hand rubs up and down his back. Up and down. Up and down.

Caleb closes his eyes and dreams of a cobble-paved road with flowers lining the edges and beautiful lights decorating the streets. He thinks it might be a festival. It’s not clear. He thinks the rest of The Mighty Nein is there with him, but it’s Essek who holds his hand and, he steals him away for a quick moment in the privacy of a secluded street corner, he kisses him softly on the lips.

When he wakes up, Essek is still in his bed, though he is no longer lying with him and instead is sitting up against the headboard. Caleb’s head is resting beside his thigh and Essek’s hand absentmindedly runs through his hair. There's a leather-bound book with no identifiable cover open in his hand absorbing his attention.

Caleb wonders, in that sleepy half-awake haze, what the real Essek’s lips taste like. He hopes he’ll get to find out one day.

“Good morning, schatz,” he sleepily mumbles against Essek’s leg.

He hears the book close and leather hit the wood of the nightstand. The fingers never stop carding through his hair.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks kindly. Concern still laces his tone, though it seems less.

“Ja,” Caleb pushes his head impossibly closer to Essek before sitting up. “Danke.”

He stretches his arms out before he feels ready to stand, and as he dangles his feet off the side of the bed Essek asks him another question with a level of careful brevity in his voice that stops him in his tracks.

"Does that happen often?"

He's not sure how to answer. His night terrors didn't happen with any sort of expected pattern, and they generally didn't happen often, but there were times when they seemed never-ending. "I wouldn't say they're rare, but I haven't had one in a while." 

Essek's hand curls into a fist at his lap as he worries his lip. His face scrunches in thought. "That's... good. But I meant... When you..." his tongue wets his lips as he works through the question he wants to ask. His hand pulls forward and gently cradles his cheek. "You seemed... lost. Far away."

Ah. Not the nightmares. That. Caleb's lip twitches down and averts his eyes. "Sometimes I lose myself," he whispers. He's come to terms with this confession many times in the past. It is part of him. That emptiness will haunt him for what he assumes will be the rest of his life. "It feels like I am somewhere else, and it is hard to come back to the present."

Essek's face remains impassive, neutral, in the same way it does when casting on a well-practiced Dunamancy spell.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that," he feels the need to say. He knows it is not easy to be around.

"Don't be," Essek tells him. His voice, while kind, has undertones of something bitter that tells Caleb he should not dare argue. "Did I help, at least?"

Caleb nods his head. "Danke, again."

Essek’s worry allays and the soft smile that replaces it aches in the most pleasant way, and he thinks he never wants to leave this bed.

He must. He wanted to harvest his green beans today while they were still ripe.

Essek hums, then stands. "Your bed is comfortable." he says after a moment.

"Mhm," Caleb agrees. Veth had practically bullied him into getting one that he actually liked and not settling for the cheapest option. Something about treating himself to something nice and a bed being one of the most important things in his home. Jester had joined her, though her argument was more under the guise of if he had someone else in bed with him, which, surprisingly apt for their current... situation. Although certainly not in the way Jester had in mind. He stands as well and steps into the closet to gather clothes to wear for the day. "The offer still stands," he adds. "For you to trance here."

"I'll consider it," Essek tells him.

Come the end of the fifth day, Caleb said goodnight to Essek and went to bed. He was nearly asleep when he heard footsteps walking from his door to his bed.

He opened his eyes when the mattress dipped beneath Essek's weight.

"Hallo," Caleb said tiredly. 

"Hello," Essek responded with a little grin.

Seems he'd chosen to join him after all, and he hopes it becomes a new normal.

Chapter Text

Essek left eleven days after he arrived.

It was difficult to know of things happening in Tal’Dorei, but neither Beau or Caleb had caught word about the Empire or Dynasty having new leads on Essek’s whereabouts. The Cerberus Assembly still had an active search for him, though their forces were only within the nation’s borders. Whether it was because they believed he was under their nose or because they did not want to risk wasting resources outside their jurisdiction so soon after a war was up for debate. 

All that mattered is that Essek had, thankfully, been right. He had not been recognized. As far as those enslavers were concerned, he was just a random drow on the streets with a disguise to avoid being called slurs.

Essek tossed out the hypothetical that there may be plenty of drow doing that. Most places outside the Kryn Dynasty had many prejudices about them, after all. For his sake, Caleb hoped it was the case. The more plausible deniability Essek’s presence can have, the better.

Eleven days. He had Essek for eleven days. It was the longest he had ever stayed, the longest the two had gotten to be alone since Aeor, and Caleb still thought it was too short. Maybe he’s greedy, but he wanted Essek to stay longer. From the way Essek had lingered in the doorway before he made his leave to study some ruins he had heard rumors of somewhere deep in the forests of southern Tal’Dorei—made almost entirely of pocket dimensions, allegedly—made Caleb believe he wanted to stay as well.

He couldn’t. They both knew that.

Caleb’s life continued as it normally did. The fall semester wrapped up and with it so did his tutoring. He occasionally met up with Beau for lunch, for fun or for work.

He always returned to an empty home that was always a little dusty. Always a little too unlived in.

Four weeks later, almost an entire month after Essek left, he sat in a Cobalt Soul meeting when he heard that familiar voice in his head.

“Caleb,” he always said his name with polite consonants like it was a sweet on his tongue. “Are you busy? I have a few things I'd like to show you.”

Months of practice receiving inappropriately timed sendings from Jester did not help Caleb fight the smile that appeared on his face upon hearing Essek’s voice.

“Excuse me,” he says quietly to avoid interrupting the speaker. Essek will know those two words were not meant for him. He did his best to discreetly rise out of his chair and smirked at the knowing side eye Beau shot in his direction. 

The hallway is empty, thankfully, for his response. “In a meeting,” he whispers. He doesn’t want his voice to echo across the walls. “I’ll be home around two. You are welcome any time. I look forward to seeing you.”

He returns to the meeting and when he retakes his seat Beau leans into his space.

“Everything all good?” she whispers.

“Just an update from a friend,” he whispered back.

—

Caleb was patiently waiting in the chair facing the teleportation circle when Essek teleported into his study exactly five minutes after two o’clock. 

“Hallo, friend,” he smiled.

Essek grinned back. His hair looked a bit windswept and his clothes were a bit muddy, but with a wave of his hand he cast prestidigitation and the mud disappeared. He ran a hand through his hair to fix it, but all it really did was fluff it up more.

He still hasn’t shaved down the hair on the side of his head. Maybe he really is growing it out.

“The ruins proved to be worth the trip,” Essek told him with an excited glint in his eye as he took off his fur-lined cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the study door. “The way they utilized demi-planes was fascinating. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I attempted to recreate some of the spells I encountered, but didn’t have any luck. I thought maybe you’d have a better try. Transmutation of this level is more your area of expertise.”

Essek turned around, and Caleb was happy to see the necklace he had given him weeks ago was still around his neck. He handed him a leather journal opened to a page with detailed semantics and observations of an incredibly convoluted spell. Upon seeing the archaic runes and odd composition of the spell circles, he immediately understood why Essek would want his thoughts on this.

He had never seen transmutation magic like this before, though some theories were already running through his mind. The ruins, an ancient dungeon it had turned out, were deep within a cave, and it seemed they used a combination of other magic to create its enchantments. It almost seemed botanical in nature, if he had to take an educated guess. He wondered if a druid could possibly have some valuable insight.

The notes describe something similar to his tower. Theoretically, if Essek was correct, the space it created was permanent, but still malleable to changes, all with one single casting. It could be physically moved as well. Essek had, at least, managed to move it by manipulating the arcane energy holding it together with dunamancy.

He wondered if it was possible to do the same with his tower spell.

Speaking of his tower, he had been debating whether or not to make it permanent within his home. There was a benefit to keeping it temporary, as it allowed him the freedom to make any tweaks he felt were needed. To make it permanent, he had to cast it once a day in the same place for an entire year. It was a heinous commitment. Especially considering he had only lived here for a couple months now. At the time he hadn’t been sure how permanent the decision would be, but slowly this place was becoming something he was proud of.

And if he had the tower, maybe it would make his home just that little bit more safe for Essek.

Perhaps, if they could somehow reverse engineer this spell Essek found, or even figure out how to tweak his spell to have a similar result. Maybe they could find a way to permanently keep the tower in a shorter time frame.

If not anything else, it was an exciting experiment. 

The two hashed out their thoughts on such an endeavor for the rest of their afternoon. They left the study in absolute disarray by the end of it. Multiple books on Transmutation and Dunamancy littered the floor and table, the chalk board looked like six different math exams threw up on it, and Caleb had even ran to the library to gather any book on druid magic he thought might be useful. 

Druid magic was peculiar. It was similar to sorcery. Practically the same genus, so to speak. It wasn’t learned with components, but rather came from some more innate natural inclination. A deep connection and understanding of nature itself. Despite that, unlike sorcery, it could be learned.

All that is to say, both Essek and Caleb were going to lose their fucking minds trying to decipher how one could possibly combine the two and accomplish such beautiful spell work. Let alone what kind of practices they could repurpose for their own experiments.

Five hours of hitting dead end after dead end and Caleb decided to call it quits for the night.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “We can continue this in the morning.”

“We might be over our heads with this,” Essek said, still stuck staring at the equations on the chalkboard. “But I want to know if it’s possible to apply any of these techniques to combining dunamanic principles with…”

“Essek, dear,” Caleb circled to his front and took the chalk from his hand. “In the morning, bitte.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Essek says with no real opposition. He regards Caleb with a careful look. His eyes give him an up-down with raised brows as Caleb takes a step closer. “You may need rest, but I can manage for a few more hours.” 

“Really? Cause I don’t believe you’ve made much progress.” Caleb places his hands on Essek’s chest and his ear flicks, making his earrings clack into each other like chimes. “A little mental break would be good, ja?”

Essek’s hands rest themselves on his hips. He uses them to lures Caleb toward him ever so slightly. “And what kind of break are you suggesting, Widogast?” 

Caleb slides his hands up behind Essek’s neck, pulling him a little closer. “I suppose that depends,” Caleb leans in till their noses nearly touch and his eyes drift half-lidded to Essek’s lips, “on how distracted you’d like to be.” 

Essek hums. His smile accentuated sharp canines. “Well, you’ve certainly got my attention,” and he takes hold of Caleb’s face and pulls him in.

Their lips meet with an eager sort of gentleness that sends them both stumbling away from the chalkboard. Essek’s hands quickly lose their hold on Caleb’s cheeks and he instead bunches up the front of Caleb’s shirt into his fists as they ungracefully tumble backward, tripping over a couple books as they go, till Essek’s back hits the wall with a gasp. 

Caleb snickers into the kiss as he breaks away. Essek's lips suspiciously have an aftertaste of chalk. Somebody had a habit of tapping it against his mouth while in deep thought.

“What?” Essek whispers, his own smile growing by the second.

Caleb can't help but mirror it, he finds him helplessly endearing.

“Nothing, schatz,” he closes the gap again. This time he nips at Essek's lip.

He gets a groan in response, a hand fisting into his hair, and he eats it up. It coaxes them into a messy, uncoordinated open-mouthed kiss. They're both horrendously out of practice, truthfully it is terrible, but they're finally, finally kissing. Real kissing. Caleb's leg slides in between Essek's thigh for better leverage. To be even closer.

He feels his hair tie come loose. It falls somewhere on the floor. He'll find it later.

Caleb breaks away to breathe, pushes his forehead into Essek's. His face is flushed with a dark purple in a way Caleb's never seen before. He can feel the way his heart his racing underneath his where his thumbs lightly press into his neck.

As he gives them both time to catch their breaths, he unbuttons Essek's bolero jacket and pulls the collar aside to press a kiss into his neck. Essek allows him, tilting his head up so Caleb can go further. His collarbone. Lower. He tugs the neckline of his tunic down. The hand not currently curling into his hair wraps around his back, holding Caleb there indefinitely.

“You can bite,” Essek's voice is mostly shallow exhales of punched air.

"Is that a request?" he teases. He wants to know what else Essek likes. He wonders how much he can learn tonight.

"Would you like me to beg?" Essek's voice goes directly into Caleb's ear. Heat rushes to his face.

"Scheiße," the whisper, barely audible, punches out of him from under his breath before he bites Essek's neck obligingly and sucks. When he pulls away, he licks the mark he left—it's a barely visible darker purple against Essek's already purple skin—and he makes direct eye contact with dilated pupils as he snakes a hand down his chest. Slowly caressing atop his clothes lower and lower. 

Essek swallows harshly. Licks his lips to satiate a steadily drying mouth.

Caleb leans his face toward his jaw once the hand comes to a standstill draped across hip and thigh. His thumb creeps lower. Inward. His lips ghost the nape of his neck directly below his ear. “This would be more distracting in bed, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Essek breathes out.

“Why don’t you–” Something thrums in Caleb's chest and he freezes, his hands on Essek’s abdomen turning slack. 

The outermost security ward on his property gave way. Then the second. The third.

Someone has entered his yard and is walking up to to the door.

“Someone’s here.” He pulled Essek away from the wall and straightened his clothes. “Stay here. Teleport away if I say anything about being alone, alright?” He moves away, hesitates, presses a rushed kiss into Essek's cheek, then briskly leaves the room with a string of agitated Zemnian curses under his breath.

He was already at the bottom of the stairs, fussing with his messy hair, by the time he heard the anticipated knock on his door. When his feet stopped him in front of it, he gave up on fixing his hair. He was in his home. It could look messy and unkempt. He opened it just far enough to be visible, not enough to look welcoming, grip tight on the doorknob.

Beau, thankfully only her, stood on the other side. He let out a relieved, sort of agitated breath as he swung the door open wide and stepped aside for her to walk in. She had a large cross-shoulder bag on her, which was odd. This was not a friendly chat, but business.

“Beauregard,” Caleb announced with a lilt of exasperation in his tone to let Essek know he was safe.

He was a little miffed at being interrupted, but if Beau was here it was important. He closes the door behind her as she struts in like she owns the place.

“Sorry, man. I know it's kinda late but I got this Volstrucker case and I could use your help cracking it.”

“Volstrucker case?” Caleb had not heard anything about this, so it must be new.

“It wasn't just Astrid and Eudwulf, right?” Beau said more than asked. She kicked her shoes off and stepped into Caleb’s living room, making herself at home in the armchair like she had many times before. “After Ikithon's trial, it's like the others vanished. Astrid was keeping it under wraps, but one of the fuckers went crazy down in Felderwin.”

Caleb sat diagonally from her on the sofa. “Felderwin? Why?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. As far as we can tell there’s no crazy conspiracy involving the city itself, at least. I caught wind of efforts in redesigning the Volstrucker Program, whatever the hell that means, but other than that… Nothing. I asked a few questions but the Assembly was pretty hush-hush about it.”

Caleb let out an agitated sigh. Dealing with the Assembly, even Astrid, was always a pain in the ass. “What do you need help with?”

“For now, I just need your nerd wizard brain. I know fuck all about spells, and for this to to give me the freedom to start cracking down on this stuff I need to know as much as possible when I give them my report. I'm hoping we cut this down here so it doesn't get far enough to actually ask you to come out and have some crazy wizard duel with this bitch.”

“Alright, so… when you say they went crazy in Felderwin…?”

“They murdered a halfling in broad daylight.” She got straight to the point, as always and handed Caleb a paper with detailed information on the victim. “He was an ex-convict arrested for suspected treason because he attacked some guards. No actual organized treason was committed, he was just some guy who had issues with the Empire and got himself thrown in prison for it. He was released early on probation some time after Ikithon's trial and had been living with his family peacefully since.”

He was a completely normal man with zero affiliation with the Volstrucker or Assembly. Had no known ties to any political figures. Odd. “Why would he be their target?”

“That’s the thing, they did it in the middle of a market square. Cobalt Soul is involved because of the amount of witnesses that saw it. The second I saw the case I took it because I don’t trust anybody else to handle it. And because I can only think of one reason why a trained Volstrucker would want an audience.”

“They wanted to send a message,” Caleb said darkly.

“Bingo,” Beau pointed a finger and leaned back in the chair. “It's a threat. It’s gotta be.”

“Do we know for certain if they are working for anyone?” 

Beau throws her arms out, palms up. “If they are, we've got no leads.”

Caleb’s face must speak for him because Beau continues. “Yeah, it's not great. I mean, it'd be one thing if they were targeting political figures, but making a spectacle of your everyday normal joe? It's either proof of weakness, which is super fucking unlikely, or–” 

“Premeditated and carefully planned,” Caleb finishes for her. “They want to scare people into submission, then aim higher with the unrest it causes.”

“That's what I'm worried about. So the quicker we deal with this the better, so, dirt wizard–”

“Caleb!” Essek's excited voice shouted from upstairs.

“Holy shit," Beau sat up and slammed her hands on the coffee table. "Essek's here? What the hell, man,” she jostled his shoulder playfully. ‘Were you gonna say anything?”

“Ja, he got here earlier this afternoon with some spells we’re studying. He’s only here for the night.”

“For the night, huh?” Beau smirked. Caleb huffed a tiny laugh, but didn’t indulge her teasing.

Essek descends the stairs with a book in hand. Somehow, he looked more put together than Caleb. You would not be able to tell he had just been pinned to a wall not even three minutes prior.

He leans over Caleb so they could both look at the page and points to a rune along the edge of a spell circle. “I figured out why none of my equations were working. A page you left open compares different runes from different spell classes and this is some kind of bard magic, I believe. A conglomeration of transmutation, druid, and bard spells.”

Of course he went right back to that damn equation after all that. Caleb huffs a short laugh and shakes his head before he takes a look.

Caleb stared at the pages with an impressed confusion and awe. He knows absolutely nothing about bard magic. He knows for a fact Essek does not either. He does, however, know enough that the concept of combining these magics is enthralling.

“I thought I told you to take a break,” he teases.

“I did. And as short as it was, it was very enlightening.”

“Essek, hey man, glad to see you too,” Beau piped up with her arms crossed and both eyebrows raised. She had a look on her face that let Caleb know he was going to be ruthlessly teased later.

“It's good to see you as well, Beauregard,” Essek responds kindly. “I hope you are well.” There’s an amused expression on his face as he turns back to Caleb expectantly. He's annoying her on purpose. How rude of him. Beau is not going to let Caleb get out scott-free for that.

“So some master class wizard druid bard was able to manufacture multiple different unique demi-planes and pocket dimensions?” Caleb wondered aloud. “And, remind me again, this dungeon historically…?”

“They are a mystery. From everything I have gathered, nobody has any solid theories on who made them, what they were for, or why. I asked around some nearby towns to see what urban legends locals had about them, but nothing really stood out to me.”

 “Do you think–”

“I'm glad you two are having fun with your wizard mating sesh, but this case needs to be cracked yesterday, and since Essek's here, two ex-espionage wizards are better than one, so…” she pulls out the case papers out of her bag and tosses them at the coffee table with a heavy thud of paper hitting wood. Essek and Caleb take it and look through the details.

Essek laughed a little as he took a seat beside Caleb on the sofa.

The facts were simple. The wizard, which witness accounts all described what was obviously a Volstrucker, targeted a locally known ex-convict.

The complicated part lied in the implications. In the current political climate where they were attempting complete overhaul of the jurisdiction, including what is classified as treason, this act posed a very clear threat; change is not welcome. Those loyal to the corrupt ways of the Dwendalian Empire will not go down without a fight.

Caleb was able to share the intricacies of each spell the Volstrucker had used, how it was done, what the typical training is, as well as some additional information about other spells they could have used before or after the murder was committed. He gave Beau permission to use him as a credible source to trace this back to a suspected Volstrucker. This, really, was all Beau needed to complete her report.

“Do you think anyone in the Assembly is behind it?” Caleb asks. He knows at least one of them has to be, of course that would be the case, but Beau has more information here than he currently has. She may know something he doesn’t.

“Oh, for sure,” Beau says without hesitation. “I’ve got no proof of it though, so I can’t actually, like, say that in a meeting. I have been strongly advised by Yasha and some of my coworkers to not,” she gestures quotation marks with her fingers, “stir the pot any more than it already has been.”

“That would be wise, ja,” Caleb agrees. Unfortunately, Beau’s blunt approach would cause more problems. They’d be able to clean up their traces more adequately if they knew there was someone bold enough to suspect so openly.

“Let’s assume they are alone,” Essek adds, “which certainly is not the case, but hypothetically, for the sake of Beau’s report, we say they are alone.” He taps a finger on his thigh. “If one Volstrucker feels confident enough to make public threats to the government that they will be next if they do not cease their efforts to diminish the Assembly’s power…” he pauses. “There is the threat of more becoming emboldened by the actions of this one. If they are alone, they may not be for much longer.”

Essek considers Beau. “It’s a worthwhile concern to bring up that could quicken how fast this is handled without raising too much alarm to anyone who may have been involved.”

Beau groans as she collects her papers and puts them back in her bag. “This is such bullshit. I hate this legal grey area where this is still able to slip through the cracks.”

That is something they can all agree on. 

“Alright, well,” Beau continues. “I’ll get out so you two can enjoy the rest of your night.” Beau heads toward the door. “And stay safe, Essek. It’s kind of a shitshow right now over here. Everyone is on high alert and looking for any reason to stab someone else in the back, and you’re high on some people’s lists. Don’t even go out there right now with a disguise. Just stay inside or go literally anywhere other than here or Zadash if you don’t wanna get caught. And, uh, maybe stay out of Felderwin too. Just in case.”

Essek takes a moment to respond. His words came out carefully and practiced. Guarded, diplomatic, kind, but not friendly. “Thank you, Beau.”

If Beau notices his aloofness, she does not take it personally. The door closes behind her as she leaves and the silence is broken by Essek sighing. 

“I should not be here,” he says quietly. Cordial.

Caleb lets out a deep breath of his own and rests a hand on Essek’s thigh. 

If they are correct about that Volstrucker, it means they are going to try tying up loose ends to redirect political control back as it had been before the start of the war. That makes Essek an incredibly valuable person of interest. They already know of some ongoing, entirely legal, searches for him within the Assembly, but it is very likely there are more malicious, individually motivated parties seeking him out quietly hidden under the same cracks of political unrest.

Until this dies down, until they give up active efforts to pursue him, Essek really, truly, is not safe in this city.

“I can assure you that there is no way for them to know you are here. You have the necklace to prevent scrying. My home cannot be spied on, I am confident of that. So long as you do not go outside into the city, they cannot know. Not even Beauregard bypasses my wards.”

Your safety is my priority, is what he’s telling him. I will not take risks with the chance of your expense. 

Essek doesn’t move from where he sits with his folded hands pressed against his lips. He’s in deep thought. “It is never safe,” he says quietly. Then, “I am putting you at risk by being here. It is selfish.”

Caleb’s heart drops, but he exercises a well practiced restraint to not let his disappointment show on his face. Essek isn’t wrong.

Yet, they are both, deep down, horrifically selfish creatures. It is selfish to ask Essek to stay. It is selfish of him to ask Caleb to let him. It’s best to not encourage it. For both their sakes because this will always be bigger than them. A fact that they are both very aware of, and it is not a line that either are keen on crossing. This is bigger than them. Caleb needs to fix his home. He needs to make up for the things he’s done. He needs to be the man he promised his parents he would be.

Essek isn’t wrong, and neither have the right to claim that it’s unfair. They can only hope that one day the Assembly’s priorities will shift, die down, or burn out entirely. It’s, perhaps, a selfish wish.

“At least rest before you go,” he compromises.

Essek does not look him in the eye. “Alright.”

The last time Essek visited, he slept in his bed for five nights. Every time he visited, he always said goodbye in the morning.

Tonight, he trances elsewhere, if he ever did at all, and he is gone before Caleb wakes.

The only indication that Essek had even stayed after Caleb fell asleep was the state of their study. He finds it is no longer the mess of books and paper scattered like they had been ravaged through that they had left the day before. The books are stacked in organized piles and everything important that had not been documented from the now erased chalkboard was transferred to the leather journal Essek had written the ruin notes in, left open with a long-winded written note on Essek’s thoughts and theories for Caleb to continue studying off of. There’s also some detailed Dunamancy spells Caleb isn’t super familiar with that he figured Essek left because he thought they could be useful. If Caleb could figure out the fundamentals of their functions, anyway. He’s sure he can. Essek clearly did not doubt it.

His hair tie is also placed directly beside the book.

Deciphering the runes, he finds, is not nearly as enjoyable of a puzzle without Essek beside him to bounce theories off of. But he wants to have something to talk about the next time he visits, so he does his best anyway.

That night, before he goes to bed, he sends Essek a message.

“Essek,” he begins. He’s lying in bed unable to sleep. “I found some possible leads with the bardic runes.” He paused. Ten words. Fifteen left. “I… hope you are safe, my friend.”

Eight words left.

There’s so much he wants to say. Always.

He lets the spell run its course.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice softly enters his mind. “I would love to hear more when I can. I am safe.” 

For a moment, he thinks that’s all he will get.

“Sorry for…” Ten more words. He has ten more words.

“Have a good night.” 

Caleb falls asleep wondering what he stopped himself from saying.