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“Do you believe in fate?”
Caleb considered the question as he peered up at the stars glittering in the endless expanse of the tower’s top floor. It was a question he hadn’t considered too often. His focus often revolved around discovering ways to change his past, leaving very little time for contemplating the intricacies of fate and destiny. He turned his head to look at Essek as he continued to think. The man was laying next to him, heads together and legs in opposing directions. Even in the dim light of the room, Essek’s cornflower eyes seemed to glow as he kept his gaze locked on the starscapes above. Caleb found his vision following the planes of the drow’s face; he took in the elegant cheekbones and their new smattering of starlight colored freckles from time spent adventuring with the Nein, the full lips usually pulled into a soft smile, the shadowed hollow of his throat where a bruise still resided from a lucky blow in an earlier skirmish. Caleb felt his breath catch as he realized again just how beautiful the other man is, and how much he cared for him.
Caleb cleared his throat as Essek turned slightly to quirk an eyebrow at him, “Ah, well, to be honest I’d never thought about it too much. Wondering whether things were always meant to happen a certain way was never going to help me achieve my goals, it wasn’t—” he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, “it wasn’t going to change the fact that I—that I killed my parents. So until recently, I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“Until recently? That implies you’ve though about it at least a little.” Essek’s smooth accent curled around Caleb’s head; Caleb, being someone who’d gotten to know Essek well enough to see through his mask, could hear the faint strain of melancholy in his voice and wondered as to its presence in this moment.
“Ja, I suppose I have. A hazard of our chosen profession.” When Essek didn’t respond to the joke, Caleb sighed softly, “Truth be told, you are one reason I have thought about it in recent memory. You and the rest of the Nein. Dying also certainly played a role in these musings, however brief that moment was. And I think I’ve determined that fate is not what the common perception is. I do not see how it could be, how it could follow that linear path when all the evidence speaks to the opposite.”
Essek shifted, robes whispering against the floor of the iris and eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glanced at the other wizard. “How do you mean?”
“Look around you, schatz. This is the world you taught me. A world of infinite realities, endless possibilities. A world where we can directly influence events, tapping into the realm of what’s possible and shaping reality. If you and I can bend these realities and change what happens, how could a rigid definition of fate exist? It does not make sense.
“So no, I do not believe in fate as a mandatory, rigid structure. I do not believe that every little moment in our lives is planned out long before we exist. There is too much responsibility given to mortal choices for that.”
Essek nods slowly before sighing, “I do not know if that makes me feel better or worse. But I appreciate your honesty.”
“Do not misunderstand, schatz. I do believe some aspects of this world are fated. I believe some people and events are constant throughout every universe. For example, in every universe, in every reality, Trent Ikithon is an abusive and manipulative arschloch; the Mighty Nein become my greatest friends and family; and you,” Caleb reaches out to run a hand through Essek’s hair with a smile, “You are my love and my joy and my second chance. You are my fate, one I chose and will continue to choose again and again.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Essek’s forehead the way he so often enjoyed before resting their heads together. “Now tell me, what’s brought this to your mind? It seems to be bothering you quite a bit.”
He waited while his lover gathered his thoughts, watching the way his silvery brow furrowed and his mouth pursed. It seemed as if this contemplation had caused even more conflict within Essek than Caleb had initially thought.
It worried him.
“I am one hundred and and twenty years old. I have the potential to live at least another six centuries, possibly longer. Yet in this first period of my life I have already committed many grievous sins and mistakes and caused the advancement of thousands of deaths in the pursuit of knowledge and the desire to satisfy my own curiosity. Then I met you all and found myself, for the first time in my existence, contemplating fate; were my actions truly my own or were they woven by the threads of fate long before they came to pass? Was I always intended to be a selfish, arrogant fool with no regard for anyone but myself? And if the answer is that it was, indeed, all set in stone, then is there a point in trying to be better? In trying to fight what reality the gods deemed to be my nature?
“The truth is, Caleb, that I am terrified. I am terrified of remaining that selfish creature you first met in Rosohna. I am terrified that none of my decisions are my own, but also terrified at the prospect that they are because I can’t decide which is worse. I am terrified that you care for me only because of the whims of beings far older and more immutable than you or I. I am terrified of what fate has in store for me because what it’s had so far has been mistakes, and regret, and loss. And I cannot take any more loss Caleb. Because the only thing I have left to lose is you. You and the Nein, and the idea that you’ll one day leave me, whether of your own accord or not, makes me wonder why I even bother continuing on if all that’s waiting for me is further heartbreak and misery and being alone again, Caleb I don’t want to be alone, I can’t be, please—” his ramblings dissolved into sobs as he felt Caleb shift quickly, arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a firm embrace. Essek clutched at the other man, face buried in the crook of his shoulder and fingers scrabbling to find purchase in the soft fabric of his shirt.
Caleb squeezed his eyes shut against his tears and swallowed the lump that had risen in this throat, “Now you listen here, Essek. The Mighty Nein are not leaving you. I. Am not. Leaving you. You are our friend and our family, and if anyone tries to take you from us or us from you, we will raze them to the ground. We have fought abominations, destroyed an ancient sentient mageocracy, dismantled a corrupt system of powerful archmages, and all of that occurred within a single year. Gods help anyone who tries to hurt one of our own, because that is the only way they will escape with their life. Yes, you have done terrible things. But you are not the only one. And unlike so many others, you desired to change.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Essek’s head, then pulled back and cupped his face, thumbs gently brushing the tears off of his cheeks, “I am scared too, liebling. I am scared of others like Trent and Obann ruining our homelands. I am scared of being unable to help the ones I love. And I am scared because I do not know for sure what the future holds. But I do know that you and I and our friends will shape it into the best version we can make it. We will live and we will work and we will protect those we care about with every fibre of our beings because regardless of who we once were, this is who we are now.” He smiled at the elf who returned it weakly with a nod, “I know it all seems daunting and like we’re not in control of anything. But I truly believe we are. Our fate is our own. We take the threads we are given and weave them into beautiful, painful, wonderful tapestries. Even when there are areas where our tapestries overlap with another’s, we choose what to do next. I chose to weave the threads of my tapestry into that of the Mighty Nein, and you, and I would choose that again and again until forever has passed.”
Essek laughed wetly, “Forever is a long time. You’re sure you wish to be stuck with me for that long?” He sniffled loudly, “Especially knowing what a wreck I am?”
“Oh, liebling…you’re not a wreck. Just a tapestry unfinished. And what better person to help you finish it than a weaver’s son?”