Chapter Text
The Little Moments In Between
Chapter One: A Long Overdue Introduction
“Are you certain about this, Caleb?”
The man in question looks up from the mirror, where he’s been adjusting and readjusting his scarf for the last fifteen minutes, as if he is the one who should be nervous. Essek takes in Caleb’s expression- eyes puffy and red, the remnants of tears Essek spent the better part of the morning kissing away still lingering on his cheeks. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he continues to fiddle with the material, absently picking at it and shifting it around his neck.
“Of course I’m sure,” Caleb says, and it’s only because his voice wavers only just so that Essek chooses to believe him.
“Then, if this is what you want,” Essek replies, cool and calm, but only because one of them needs to be. He steps closer and gently takes Caleb’s hands in his, kissing them both before guiding them to rest on his waist. He feels Caleb gently squeeze him there, more a flex of tension than anything, and busies himself for a moment to properly adjust Caleb’s scarf.
Essek knows Caleb has wavered on this choice more than once in recent days. He hasn’t said as much, but Essek has known Caleb for a while now- and in that time they have grown to have a deep, thorough understanding of one another. He knows well Caleb’s hurts, the things that still sometimes keep him up at night. But as with all things, Essek is determined to do what Caleb wishes. He never wants to make demands or try to force Caleb’s hand. He’ll certainly give Caleb his opinion if asked, and he often is, but in this instance, Essek has no metric to measure whether what they’re about to do is wise. All he knows is that Caleb is determined, and so, “As always, I will be right by your side.”
Nodding, Caleb presses their foreheads together, taking a moment to steady his breathing. Then he backs away, and in a mirror of Essek’s earlier affection, takes his hands and lifts them, kissing Essek’s knuckles, lips brushing over a finger that is currently bare, but in a few hours will don a small, silver band. “I love you,” Essek breathes between them, a simple truth that was born out of an improbability. He watches as the tension that is currently crushing Caleb’s shoulders to his ears lessens, and in those words Caleb seems to find the assurance he needs.
Looking up to meet Essek’s eyes, Caleb smiles, the first truly genuine smile he’s borne all day.
“Ich liebe dich, mein liebling,” he replies. Essek can now carry on a basic conversation in Zemnian, but those words he knows better than any other.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, and waits patiently as Caleb gathers his courage to lead them out the door.
——
It’s a chilly day, with grey skies that leave the sun pressed behind a wall of clouds that whisper at a hint of rain. Autumn is slowly shifting to winter, with the last of the leaves having fallen from large, looming trees, making the red and orange speckled path before them crunch with each booted step. They walk hand in hand, silent in the anticipation of what’s to come. Essek’s black parasol that Jester gifted him several years ago rests at an angle on Essek’s shoulder, keeping the drow even more shadowed from the faint hints of sunlight that manage to squeeze through cracks in the otherwise grey expanse above.
Next to him, Caleb is nervous, exhibiting those tell-tale signs Essek is intimately familiar with after so long of living exclusively with Caleb. The way Caleb worries his bottom lip, the way his fingers squeeze Essek’s in a rhythm the drow knows to be from an old lullaby. The way Caleb can’t look anywhere but at his feet, shoulders slumped as if the shame grows with each step.
He knows Caleb has made peace with his past- as much as one can, at least. He knows the way Caleb still struggles, on a few specific days each year- anniversaries and special occasions celebrated that leave Caleb a little more wistful and solemn than normal. Even Essek, who has little experience with the tragic loss of a loved one, understands that the task at hand is extremely difficult. It isn’t that people don’t die in the Dynasty; it’s just that Essek has never cared about someone who has lost a loved one. Most of the people he’d surrounded himself with were consecuted, and furthermore, as they were in higher positions of authority, were almost always within range of a beacon.
It’s still a bit strange, and even more unsettling, to know that for humans, this is it. Essek may have rejected the immortal life the Luxon offers, but he’d at least had the choice. Humans do not have such a luxury, to return time and again. Even having rejected it himself, the lack of the option somehow doesn’t sit well with Essek. But despite the foreign uncertainty swirling within, he squeezes Caleb’s hand in tandem, offering reassurance that he’s there for him, no matter what.
By the time they reach the cemetery entrance, the wind has picked up a little more, and Essek worries the rain may come sooner than expected. He silently hopes against it, desiring for Caleb to have all the time he needs without the worry of getting drenched in the process. But then his thoughts shift as they begin the slow walk past rows of graves, and Essek feels a new sort of unsettling deep in his bones.
He’s unused to graves, even more than he is unused to death itself. The Blooming Grove had been his first real experience with one, and even then it had felt so distant, so beyond his understanding. Part of his previous position in life had included the luxury of ignoring death.
Here its presence is unavoidable.
Wordlessly, he shifts closer to Caleb as they walk. Essek reads the names etched into stone, realizing with a lurch in his chest that all these names were once people. With lives and hopes and dreams and fears; with favorite foods, favorite books. They were bright and beautiful souls that led full lives he can’t even begin to fathom. And now all that’s left is a stone marker for strangers to gaze upon, to wonder at what was.
They come to the corner of the cemetery where headstones rest before them, smaller in comparison to many of the others. But Caleb stops a few feet away from them, and lets out a shuddering breath. “Here we are,” he says softly, probably more to himself than Essek. He knows Caleb often visits this place, but has never asked Essek to join him. Similarly, Essek has never requested to come, respecting Caleb’s unspoken need for privacy. Even as their lives intertwine, mesh and meld together with perfect symmetry, Essek can appreciate Caleb’s desire to keep this part separate. It’s a part of his past, his shame, and though Caleb has come a long way from the hollow-eyed man he met in the Lucid Bastion, Essek knows a large part of Caleb’s heart is buried in the ground at their feet.
“Do you want a moment alone?” Essek asks, unsure of the proper protocol for such a situation. But even as he doesn’t fully understand it, he knows how crucial it is. How much Caleb needs this. Beside him, Caleb shakes his head, then lightly tugs Essek’s hand, and together they step up to the graves of Leofric and Una Ermendrud.
“Hallo, mother. Hallo, father,” Caleb says softly, addressing the headstones before them. He takes a long breath, a deep inhale that escapes as a shuddering sigh, and continues. “I want you to meet someone.” He tilts his head to the left. “This is Essek. He is-“ Caleb stops, sniffles. For a moment, Essek worries Caleb may break down, but is pleasantly surprised when instead, Caleb lets out a small laugh.
“We are getting married today,” he says and despite the somberness of the current situation, Essek can’t help but feel a swell of giddiness rise up within him at the words.
Caleb continues, “But before we do, I wanted you to meet him. I wanted you to know… how much he means to me. How much I love him. How he has saved me, time and time again. And, though sometimes I feel as if I shouldn’t be… after everything I did… I wanted you both to know that I think I’m finally happy.”
Caleb’s voice breaks at that, and the sob that escapes him is like a knife to Essek’s own heart, and he feels the tears begin to fall, at the wonderful, broken truth that drifts in the air before them.
“I wish you could be here,” Caleb whispers, free hand lifting to wipe away the tears falling from his own eyes. “I wish you could properly meet Essek. You would love him so much, I know it. And you would see how much he loves me; how much I love him, and you would see that I finally managed to do something right.”
Essek extracts his fingers from Caleb’s hand, and wraps a comforting arm around his waist instead. He leans his forehead to Caleb’s temple. “They are proud of you,” he whispers. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he knows. To raise such an incredible man, they would have no choice but to be proud. “And they are happy for you, I think.”
A half-laugh, half-sob escapes Caleb. “Ja,” he agrees, pressing close against Essek, “I know.”
They stand for several minutes as Caleb talks. He tells them about other things- his work at the Academy, the latest update on the breaking down of the Assembly, and some of Essek’s recent accomplishments. Eventually, Caleb goes silent, and after a long, lingering moment he wipes his eyes again, and sighs. “Thank you for indulging me,” he whispers, and Essek isn’t certain if he’s addressing him or his parents. “We can go.”
Essek doesn’t move. Instead he gestures to the graves. “May I?”
Caleb blinks, surprised. “Oh! Of course.”
Carefully, Essek closes the parasol. Then, with slight hesitation he steps forward, reverent in his approach as he kneels between two graves, letting one hand rest on the grass below where he knows, deep under the ground, a book of letters lies. Caleb had told him about the letters some time ago, when Essek had offhandedly mentioned that Caleb no longer carried a second book in his holster. The gesture had moved Essek in a way he still can't comprehend. He thinks it’s because a part of him knows that someday, there will come a time when he is the one leaving letters buried beneath graves that smell like the most delicious of teas.
“Hello,” he greets, feeling a bit foolish as he talks to stone. He feels foolish, even though he hadn’t thought Caleb so, and struggles against a momentary burst of embarrassment as he tries to form the words to express the depth of his feelings, directed toward two people he knows cannot hear him. Caduceus and Calliope had tried explaining this to him once, when he’d been at the Blooming Grove gardening and a family had arrived to pay tribute to a loved one. They’d sat for an hour, talking to the headstone as if it could hear them. Essek had been terribly confused and a little perplexed at the sight and so he’d approached the firbolg siblings and inquired as to the purpose. They’d explained it to him, ever patient as he struggled to understand.
He still hadn’t understood, not really. Not until today. And suddenly he finds he has so much to say to two people he’s never met, but who his husband-to-be loves so fiercely. He wants to say so much, and before he can even really allow himself to think about it, he opens his mouth, and his heart spills out.
“I am very pleased to meet you,” he says softly, not trying to hide his words from Caleb, but aware of the sobriety such a conversation warrants. “And I want you to know that you do not need to worry. I will take care of your son; I will love him and cherish him with everything in me, until the time comes to release him back to you.”
His heart seizes in his chest, and though it’s with pain, it’s also with comfort. With understanding. They both know how this will end, and both have made their peace with it. Essek continues, “I consider it the greatest honor and privilege of my life, to be the one your son chose. And I shall be ever grateful that you brought something so wonderful, so bright, and so beautiful into this world, at such a time that he could enrich my life and make me a better man. I will ever strive to be worthy of him.”
With a final caress of the grass, Essek stands and turns. Caleb is upon him in an instant, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug that borders on painful. Essek doesn’t care. Instead he throws his arms around Caleb, just as tight, just as desperate, and they stand at the foot of the graves of Caleb’s parents, crying and clinging to one another.
From somewhere in the distance, a clock tower chimes the hour. Caleb pulls away from Essek, just enough to press their foreheads together. “Thank you,” he breathes.
Shifting to press a kiss to Caleb’s forehead, Essek replies, “Oh course, my beloved. Thank you for bringing me here; for sharing them with me.”
“I was afraid you would think me foolish,” Caleb whispers as he steps back, hands sliding down Essek’s arms, entwining their fingers together. “But I should have known better.”
“You are anything but foolish,” Essek tells him, squeezing their joined hands. “You are brilliant and beautiful and clever. Sentimental. Kind.” He steps closer, eyes searching Caleb’s and finding nothing but the same love and devotion he feels reflected back at him. “You are a good son. An exceptional wizard. A loyal friend.” He pauses, and a small smile curls his lips upward until he’s grinning with more happiness than he ever thought it possible to feel. “A loving husband.”
A similar, but more subdued smile matches Essek’s. “Ah, not quite a husband. Not yet.”
“Then we should remedy that immediately.”
Caleb takes a step backward, then another, gently pulling Essek to follow him. “Yes, we should.”
With one last look at the two gravestones, Caleb bids his parents farewell, and turns away. Essek, as always, is right beside him, and as they exit the cemetery the wall of clouds above them cracks, and a sliver of sunlight manages to slink its ways through, brightening the path before them. Logically, Essek knows the practicality of such a thing. Clouds shift and the sunlight bleeds through. But he has also seen a city made of flesh, a god that takes the form of a weasel, and the miraculous rebirth of Kinglsey Tealeaf at the hands of the Wildmother.
And while once Essek might have dismissed the sight before him as just the ever-changing aspect of nature, now he knows better. Now he sees a guiding light, illuminating the path he and Caleb walk together- perhaps the only gift two souls who have passed beyond the veil can offer their son.
Beside him, Caleb’s steps slow. “The sun is coming out,” he says, a touch breathless. He glances at Essek expectantly, silently offering to wait for his drow companion to reopen his parasol. Lingering for a moment, Essek considers. Remembers the days back in Roshona when he would begrudgingly participate in the worship of the Light, letting the harsh heat and vibrancy of the sun blind him, burn his skin and leave him more irritable than refreshed. He remembers thinking such practices were a waste of time.
He still thinks that, and probably always will.
But neither can he deny the miraculous that surrounds him now. Can’t deny the warm wind that blows past them now feels the way it does when the Wildmother speaks to Fjord or Caduceus. Can’t deny the way his heart still flutters every time he looks at Caleb with the knowledge that Caleb loves him just as much. Can’t deny that speaking to the headstones of people he never knew has moved him in a way he never could have fathomed. Can’t deny that for a moment, the fact that his brother can’t be here to celebrate his wedding day with him hurts more than he ever cared to admit.
And yet, through all the sorrow and pain that still lingers in the shadows around them, there’s also love. A love so great and wonderful that Essek still can’t believe it’s his for the taking. The giving. The sharing between them, in moments of great success and happiness, in moments of deep, soul-crushing sorrow, and all the little moments in between. Essek lives for those moments: the soft smiles during silly confessions. The laughter as they recall a pleasant memory in the midst of so many awful ones. The quiet moments where nothing need be said because in spite of everything they understand one another. The silent walk to a cemetery on their wedding day.
Caleb told his parents that loving Essek was the one thing he’d managed to get right. Essek knows that choosing Caleb is the first time he’s done something right as well.
Shouldering his still closed parasol, Essek gives Caleb a smile as bright as the sun shining through the clouds. “Come,” he says, “Else we will be late for our wedding.”
A small, giddy laugh escapes Caleb at that, and together, they step forward out of the cemetery and into the light.