Pas de Deux

by pugcloud

Summary:

Caleb is unaccustomed to the aristocratic tendencies of any nation, let alone the one that has only recently come out of a war with his own. Despite this, he is allured to the Firmaments' High Society-though it is not the work of the sparkly chandeliers or gaudy bouquets, but rather the temptations of a handsome drow man whom he'd trekked miles with, Essek Thelyss.

Chapter 1: A Preposterous, Terrible Idea

The air in the Brenatto’s Nicodranian home is light. Yellow curtains on the door to the balcony dance gently from the night wind. Laughter spreads through the room like a contagion. A delicious fish dinner wafts through the air, one which Caleb cannot wait to get his hands on, since fish is a fine delicacy in the landlocked Rexxentrum. This is the average monthly sleepover with the Mighty Nein, and just like every time, it could not be more different from the warm, quiet, fireside life Caleb exists in for most of the year. But these are the days he cherishes the most these years—the times he gets to peacefully catch up with dear friends, without worrying about chasing an ill-intentioned Cerberus Assembly member or planning a potentially dangerous lesson plan for his students in his honors classes. 

All of them—except Essek—are splayed around the coastal living room in their ridiculous light pajama pants. Veth declared everyone simply must wear their loudest patterns, so Caleb is cuddled on the futon in his colorful cats pants. Jester is beaming to everyone over a glass of chocolate milk about a small subaquatic cavern the Nein Heroez found and the Issylran treasures it held. Fjord rubs her back and nods along, smirking at the parts where she exaggerates his bravery. 

“And there was this really gross algae on the walls that came to life, and Kingsley just slashed through all of them! And as we went deeper in, there were skeleton fish, and everything lost color, which made that algae look white,” she lowers her voice in that playful way she so often does, “and a lot more sexual than it probably intended! Before long, we were facing this big slime monster, who spit out a pile of fancy Issylran coats!”

With no warning whatsoever, she pulls her pink bag of holding out, reaches her muscled arm into the bag and lifts out an impressive greatsword covered in white goo, to which Beau starts loudly cackling, and even Caleb cannot stifle a chuckle.

Veth immediately jumps up from her spot, scolding, even as the rest of the room is alight with cheers and innuendos. “Get that out of here! Get—-not in my living room!” she insists, attempting to shove the greatsword back in the bag by jumping on it. Yeza immediately goes to get a towel. 

 

The energy of the room eventually quiets into the gentle gossip that Caleb loves equally as much as the rowdy part of the night. 

“So, Essek isn’t here tonight,” Beau starts, and the room instantly turns towards Caleb, to which he dramatically rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his chamomile tea. 

“He was busy,” he replies curtly.

“What is ‘busy’ code word for?” Jester crudely suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

“Jester, he has been conducting independent research in Aeor. What could you possibly imagine he was doing?”

“He visited The Grove for a few days last month,” Caduceus chimes in quickly. “He looks like he’s been doing better.”

Caleb smiles softly and nods at those words. It is nice to hear someone other than him say they notice the new sheen on Essek, the revitalized hope for life that was so missing when the Nein had first met him. “Yes, I do believe he has improved… in every sense of the word.”

“Why don’t you just ask him out already!” Veth firmly demands. The request takes Caleb off guard, making him slightly stutter over his words. He feels like a young boy talking about Astrid or Eadwulf to his parents again— embarassed. 

“Veth,” he begins after a shocked pause, “while Essek and I became quite… intimate on our trip to Aeor, Essek must abide by the courtship rules of the Dynasty as long as he is in their good graces. Unless I ever would like to join the Firmaments’ High Society scene—without a Den or a title to my name, mind you—our relationship is not public.” 

Jester and Veth visibly pout at those words. Caduceus, who is drying off plates nearby, turns his head over his shoulder to say, “why not court him then?”

The room goes pitch silent, save for the sound of towel on porcelain. Caleb blinks for a moment, considering the proposition in the time he has before everyone will harass him to go through with this. He had not considered it—the idea of intruding on an aristocratic society so foreign to him wasn’t anything remotely within his capabilities, after all. Growing up, he was never wealthy, never learned the polite table manners one should use at a dinner soirée or the proper way to introduce oneself as a titled man. The Kryn Dynasty is another concern entirely; not only did Caleb grow up terribly poor, he also grew up in the country decidedly in the greatest opposition to Xhorhas. It was a preposterous, terrible idea.

“That’s a great idea, Caleb!” Jester calls excitedly, confirming his previous prediction. “I mean, we already have the favor of the Bright Queen, we brought the Empire and the Dynasty back to peace, and we returned their Beacon—they’d totally accept you!”

Caleb eyes around at the interior, suddenly taken by the paintings on the wall and by the way his hands fidget with the purple cats on his knees. Fjord snorts.

“I don’t mean to imply that I don’t encourage this, but wasn’t Caleb introduced to the entire royal court looking like a muddied slave? Might that be considered somewhat scandalous?” Fjord pointed out. 

“Don’t remind me,” Beau shivers, and Caleb understands the embarrassment viscerally.

“ Ja ,” Caleb agrees with Fjord, “this among many other problems impedes the possibility of ever attempting to court Essek. I am sure he is rocky as well—he has only just recently fallen back in step with the Dynasty. I am unsure if he would take kindly to seeing me at a ball.”

“Caaa-leb!” Jester whines, “you’re so unimaginative! Remember Courting of the— derogatory term? It would be so romantic, you just have to. Just ask!” she persists. She’s playing with her pillows now, holding one tight to her chest like a girl hearing her favorite tense bedtime fable, and Caleb cannot help but be endeared by the sentiment. Jester’s belief in Caleb finding “true love” like everyone else has been quite comforting. It is a gentle reminder that he is capable of that and more—even as it stings with the knowledge that the opinion comes from a past unrequited love. 

The sound of a key turning and a door opening resounds from the lower floor and the Nein hears a familiar, soft voice. “Cake received from the bakery!” As soon as the declaration is made, Jester forgets all of her worries, scrambling towards the nearby kitchen where she knows Yeza will set the pastries out, as he so often does on these special nights. 

 

Caleb sighs with an exasperated smile, seeing as the Nein leaves him alone from their badgering and discussion to get a slice of the red velvet pie Yeza has bought from The Shore’s Sweets down the road. He does not miss as Beau stays behind, turning towards him, her hair uncharacteristically let down and her blue pajama shorts clad with bright yellow bananas. 

“Are you seriously gonna do it?” she gives him a knowing smirk. The two of them have continued working together long after The Nein’s dissolution, and Beau can always tell when he is troubled over something. 

“I am considering it… the Academy is off for the summer, and everything with the Cerberus Assembly is in a quiet state currently, though I am loath to let my guard down for some frivolous parties with my partner.”

“It isn’t just fancy-ass parties though, right? If you want to actually be with Essek, isn’t this is how you do it?

“Of course, it is just… what if Essek does not want us to be together?”

Beau gives him a knowing smirk, waving him off and walking away, and though such a dismissive gesture should be so deeply patronizing, Caleb finds it at least a little comforting, as if he and Essek are just common sense . Rationally, he knows it is not such, even if they have trekked miles through Aeor together, even if they would not be the same people without each other.

 

The night quickly draws to a close, and Caleb heads to his chambers with Caduceus, which is the living room in a sleeping bag. As he lies on the uncomfortable sleeping bag which is reminiscent of their many travelled miles (though a little too cozy to fully bring back the memories), Caleb’s mind wanders back to Caduceus’ suggestion. Why not court him then?

Caleb feels a knot twist in his stomach thinking of what that might be like. Waltzing under dark lights, suited for drow vision, delicate and manicured lavender hands entangled with his own, rougher, more callous and scarred hands. Eating petite Xhorhasian delicacies together, quiet jests that only the other gets to hear about the superficiality of the high society scene. At the end of their courtship, a lovely quiet marriage with the Nein and perhaps Essek’s brother present. Then, the night of the marriage—soft but labored breaths from a familiar voice that soothes him so, bare skin laid out on soft sheets— he is thrust quickly out of his fantasies. He gathers his limbs closer, squeezing his eyes shut and open a few times. 

Admittedly, Caleb still has a difficult time doing things for himself, even after all the attentions and love from the Nein.

But maybe, just this once, he is willing to try.

Chapter 2: A Trip to the Modiste

Summary:

Caleb and some friends go to the modiste. They do expect to be met with the most expensive and kingly garments they could imagine. Equally, they do not expect the conversations that follow.

Caleb arrives back from his teleport circle to Rexxentrum in the early afternoon hours to his quarters. Nowadays, Caleb finds shelter in a comfortable home near the Soltryce Academy, though not directly in the Shimmer Ward (if one thought they could do so on a teacher’s salary, they’d be kidding themselves). He loves his time with his friends, and certainly, the goodbyes after each monthly reunion is somber, but he almost just as much enjoys his post-sleepover come-down. 

Once his magic swirls around him in an array of arcane lights and poofs him back into his room, he has to take a moment to recover from the vertigo. Veth’s home is a light teal, coastal, lively, and Caleb’s home is anything but. It is lonely, to be sure, and Caleb spends most of his days in his home with the sole company of the fire crackling in his hearth. It is rather ironic, Caleb thinks, that the occasional hisses from the fireplace sing in a way that provides a quiet solace, and not a jailed isolation like it might once have. 

He takes a moment to strip himself from his worse-for-wear boots and tight vest. He slides down into the divan, allowing the heat from his proximity to the blaze to warm his chest. The luxury that comes with bathing in the firelight and the comfort of having his eyes closed lures him to Essek’s home in the Dynasty.

Walking in, Caleb questioned if he had found the correct address by how modest the drow’s home was. By his 24/7 flaunting of his dunamantic capabilities, or his large silver mantle, at the time, Caleb would have bet money that Essek’s home was as pretentiously sleek and elegant as he presented his own person as. Indeed, his suspicions had not been disproved as he explored more of the house—the coffee table was sharp, geometric, carved from many fine and large pieces of obsidian. There was a noticeable picture of Den Thelyss that one couldn’t miss while walking in, though as one went further, one could equally not miss that there were no sentiments from friends. No gifts, no souvenirs, no endearing photos of close loved ones after a memorable night out. Thinking back, all of this was reasonable for Essek at the time—he feels his chest tighten with a mournful sadness for his beloved friend.

Then he is back in his own living room, a highly dramatic black cat loudly meowing for attention at his feet.  

“ Ja, ja, Viola, ich bringe dir das Mittagessen ,” he assured exasperated, patting her head firmly but sweetly. Viola was named by Essek, given she was a gift from him. In their personal venture through Aeor together, when Essek had asked if Caleb planned on getting a non-fey cat, he had not expected Essek to literally bring him a Xhorhasian cat, though the similar piercing qualities of both the drow and the feline are not lost on Caleb—neither is the neediness and docility when they know they have done bad. 

He returns to his feet, pulling a reasonably cumbersome bag of cat food from a wooden cabinet and refilling his dear Viola’s bowl. As he refills it, he watches Viola pad up to a bookcase, looking at him directly in the eye as she bumps into it, dropping a singular purple book of which Caleb cannot make out the text on from this distance.

Finished refilling her bowl, Caleb treks over while Viola goes to eat, picking up the book to inspect it. When he does, he nearly stumbles back, seeing the familiar title from roughly three years ago now, The Courting of the Crick .

Caleb cannot stifle a smug chuckle. As if the humor of the situation could not be any more pronounced, the Wildmother herself deigned to send one of her creatures to laugh at him as well. “ Nicht du auch , schatz ,” he mumbles to himself, eyeing the creature suspiciously, though of course she does not look up. 

He rereads the book, that night. It is as horrid as he remembers, but it gets him musing to himself more and more about this apparently no longer ridiculous idea of courting Essek.

 

Somehow, his internal musings turn into a Sending spell to Veth and then Jester the following morning. 

And somehow, that spell turns into them fussing over fabrics at the modiste by the Xhorhaus.

“Veth, this yellow one doesn’t compliment his complexion at all! This soft blue is much more dashing on him.”

“You only say that because you are blue, Jester!”

Caleb opts to ignore their conversation. The tailor has not yet even come by with her selection of robes and full garments, let alone fabrics on the clearance rack, but Veth and Jester have always been prone to the most incredible tangents, so he lets them be while twiddling his thumbs. The modiste eventually comes stumbling by again, wheeling a golden rack of freshly ironed pieces towards the group of them. She is a small goblin, advertised as Ms. Wickens, red glasses contrasting against her uneven green skin, and hair up in a tight bun which makes her look terribly strict. 

“Here, take a look at these! Some of my finest. You know, it’s not often we get a human in here…” she starts, carefully sifting through the pieces to decide which one she might deign to show him first.

“Ah, ja… I understand it is odd,” Caleb begins softly.

“Yes, yes, well—whatever your reason is for joining Society, it’s none of my business since you have the Queen's favor, I just wish you luck. I don’t care too much for the gossip, but those Den mothers are scathing,” she says in her raspy voice, likely influenced by a few too many years using a pipe.

As she says this, she pulls out one particular piece: a rich, chocolate brown robe, akin to much of what he has seen the leisure class of Xhorhas frequently wear. It is obviously Xhorhasian in make, but with a veritably Zemnian twist which feels homely to Caleb. The adornments which one would assume to be silver by their angular, geometric designs on the shoulders and waistline are in fact a warm gold. The other fabric within the masculine robes is a deep crimson velvet, adorning mostly his arms and the lower half of the mantle. Attached is a bow for his hair, matching the red on the robes. Caleb thinks he may have fallen in love with this garment faster than he did with Essek, and he is typically one for practicality, not show and extravagance. 

He heads into the dressing room to try it on, and when he emerges, he cannot help but hide his face a bit to the left as a modest blush spreads over it. He sees Veth and Jester’s eyes veritably pop out of their head like cartoons.

“Oh my Gods, Caleb, you look just so handsome! ” Jester articulates, throwing her hands out in an excited but somewhat incomprehensible gesture, like her hands are moving just to waste the energy that has piled up in her.

“ Very charming, Caleb! If I didn’t have a husband I might enter Society myself for you,” Veth adds on excitedly. The two of them fuss over the little details on his mantle, adjusting it to fit him more properly.

“Yes, yes, and it fits you quite well, it shouldn’t need any alterations,” Ms. Wickens smiles, admiring her work while picking out shoes that might do the trick with the outfit.

“Essek will just ask you to marry him on the spot ,” Jester insists, now bouncing on the top of her heels, making Caleb crack a smile. 

“Essek? Essek Thelyss? ” the modiste asks, brow now furrowed.

“Um, ja. ”

“Oh,” she lets out a laugh to herself, “good luck with that one. A human, after the most suspicious and gossiped figure in the Rosohnan Society scene now? I mean, I’m sure you’ll do great, just—”

“Caleb could get any man he wanted in Rosohna!” Veth interrupts, and Caleb immediately shakes her shoulder in a weak attempt to get her to stop. He suddenly feels his flush spread, embarrassed, like he is a child whose mother has to scold a bully for him.

“Please ignore her. I will take the garment, and the others you have picked out,” he smiles, though the furrow of his brow has visibly tightened on his face, an expression he cannot seem to shake. 

They very awkwardly go through with the transaction, and Caleb leaves with a treasure chest full of carefully folded clothes.

“That was so mean,” Jester huffs as they walk out into the perpetual night sky of Rosohna.

“ Ja,” Caleb whispers raspily. He cannot help but feel anxiety sinking into the pit of his stomach like blackened tar, making everything feel dizzy and slow. Must this be such a challenge? If even the most seemingly uncaring modiste knows about Essek’s reputation, and it is still such a scandal for a human to be seen in Xhorhas… he gulps, taking a moment to recollect himself. He smiles when he feels Veth’s smaller hand squeeze his own kindly. He is well aware she would have dropkicked that woman if he had not intervened, and he could not be more grateful for his friend.

Still, he needs to be cautious, and he must do proper research.

 

When he is home in Rexxentrum the following day, Caleb resolves that he must learn from accurate sources about Kryn Society traditions. His first order of business is the Soltryce Academy: to be sure, he learned all of his worst propaganda from there, but equally, he knows, they have at least semi-reliable sources and scholarship on the matter. He would ask Beauregard for access to some of the knowledge in the Cobalt Soul, but he does not think he has the will to do so without instantly dying of humiliation. 

Within the library, he remains disappointed that the breadth of knowledge on the Kryn society is still so small and simple-minded. Regardless, he manages to pick up a few books: Den Dress, a book which details the attires of the aristocratic Kryn (helpfully suited with small sketches,) The Chandeliers of the Luxon (a book about the wealthiest, most influential Dens in the Dynasty), and Moonlight Courtships (a book about courting in Kryn society.)

He learns some very helpful tips, specifically about what to ask for when he can get his hands on a tailor, the kinds of waltzes, and perhaps more importantly, etiquette. Caleb has heard the horrors of Dierta Thelyss, the arctic wolf of a mother who bears her fangs at the slightest question of her authority. It is nervewracking to think of winning her approval for her prodigy son’s hand—especially as a human, and a Zemnian one no less. He obsesses over these books, obsesses because he knows if he messes up, it may hurt Essek too, and that is the last thing he wants. Some quite selfish part of him obsesses because if he messes this up, he also loses his chances with the most beautiful, intelligent man he has ever met.

He spends the rest of his evening poring over each of these books. It is amazing how distracted he has become today, or rather, how quickly he has redirected all of his attention to courting Essek—though, he also fully understands that Essek is the only person who could do such a thing to him. 

It is late, well after sunset, by the time Caleb rouses from his trance of reading each book meticulously and taking detailed notes. He feels himself blink awake only when the familiar voice of a drow sounds in his ear:

Caleb, I am done with my research in Aeor for this week. I will come see you this Yulisen if that is well with you? 

Notes:

teasing conflict is always so fun... also, Essek NEXT WEEK!!
I hope you guys somewhat enjoy my penchance for character exploration and monologues. I tend to go on tangents with Caleb's thoughts and I find it very fun to explore the subtle symbolism in his life, but I know sometimes it can drag on. Regardless, next week is very plot-focused (and a little bit indulgent) I promise :) Hope you enjoyed!

Chapter 3: Zemnian Dance, Xhorhasian Music

Summary:

Caleb has the all-important talk with Essek.

It’s been a particularly drawn-out week in Eiselcross. Essek does not particularly love how the cold prickles his skin and gives him purple goosebumps, or how the light reflecting off the snow has given him a sunburn on his nose and cheeks every day without fail. Essek is, however, fond of the way the magic glides off his skin when he lets his disguise drop as he moves from the bustling Rexxentrum streets to his—dear friend’s home. He is fond of the warm smell of dinner when Caleb anticipates his coming, or the way the scratchy but homely welcome mat hits his feet when he doffs his shoes (a practice he had to instill in Caleb, who, unfortunately, could never have imagined life without shoes inside the house.)

What Essek does not expect this visit is that all the lights are off. When he steps inside, he smells food wafting through the air, but it’s not warm or characteristically Zemnian, it’s a spicy-sweet Rosohnan scent that almost bites at Essek’s nostrils. His eyebrow cocks in a curious gesture as his eyes adjust to the light. When he sees the rose petals strewn around the room like one of the dreadfully silly romance novels Caleb has read to him, he smiles weakly.

“Caleb? Are you there?” he says loudly into the dark space. 

He waits for a moment.

Slowly, four warm, orange lights, dance into the periphery of his vision—in fact, they literally dance in, as each of the four lights is designed to look like a pair of people in Rosohnan dress, dancing. Essek cannot help but stifle a chuckle at how ridiculous they are obviously meant to appear—everything gaudy Essek has poked fun at about the Rosohnan ballroom scene he is familiar with is emphasized. The women wear large roses, comically large, even for the typical Rosohnan corsage, a feature Essek has poked fun at for how out of place they feel in such a serious scene. Equally, though, Essek is also impressed at the care and the detail put into these figures. Each of the embroidery on the figures matches a separate embroidery used by different Dens. 

With the assistance of the light, Essek now sees the familiar figure approaching: with unusually well-combed, braided hair in a crown, wearing Rosohnan robes in traditional Zemnian coloring of deep red and gold, cascading down to the homely rug floor, Caleb emerges from the doorway to the kitchen. Essek has to just stand there for a moment, shocked, mouth slightly open, resisting an amused chuckle.

Then, he bows, head low to the ground, gloved hand held out for Essek’s taking. “Essek Thelyss, may I have this dance?” 

As he speaks, traditional sounds of violins and keys start playing around the room. Essek feels as though he is completely magenta, flushed and warm from his cheeks to his stomach. 

“Caleb Widogast, this is too much, even for you,” Essek laughs in his typical smooth accent—but still, he puts his hand in his and is taken aback as he is quickly spun around the room in a waltz-like gesture, much more obviously Zemnian than anything close to Rosohnan.

“Can I not surprise you from time to time, S chatz? ” Caleb smiles in that mischievous way, one of the smiles where Essek can only assume he’s gotten such an idea from Jester. 

He lets himself be taken—Caleb has to lead, of course, because the way he decided they would dance is so decidedly foreign to him that it might just be considered sacrilegious in the Dynasty. They eventually fall in step—the disparity between the Kryn music and the Zemnian waltz would stress out any umavi or political member, but the indulgence in both is soothing to the two of them together. 

 

A period of time passes in comfortable silence, with them sitting on the couch together eating their Rosohnan rice cakes, worn out from dancing in such an energetic way that might be at least marginally easier for Caleb was he ten years younger. Silence with another person that isn’t excruciatingly tense is a fairly new phenomenon for Essek, after dinnertable silence with his mother for over a century. The rice cakes haven’t been made very well—they’re a little too chewy, but Essek doesn’t have the heart to tell Caleb when he even made the effort to try.

“Essek,” Caleb starts, putting his dish down on the coffee table after scraping the last of the sauce clean from the bottom of the plate. 

“Yes, Caleb ? ” Essek asks, turning to look at his companion.

“I think…” Caleb clears his throat, turning a not-so-flattering but very boyish shade of red that makes Essek internally chuckle. “I think I would like to court you, if that is okay,” Caleb suggests with a renewed sort of excitement, but his bright eyes pierce into Essek with impressive resolve.

“Caleb, you have already done so,” Essek reassures, also returning his plate to the table to put his hands over his lovers. He rubs his thumbs against the side of Caleb’s knuckle in a way that intends to be loving. They are technically only friends, 

“ Liebe, I mean, really, court you—in society,” Caleb clarifies, and suddenly the movements of Essek’s hand stop. He briefly wishes he could toggle time on and off to think about things, and his mind racks through all the reasons why Caleb might want to do this. Perhaps it is the dunamantic properties the researcher has been exposed to all his life, or just the impeccable speed of his mind, but Essek finds himself flitting through many different thoughts. Why? Is he uncomfortable that we must remain private in our… dalliance? There are too many implausibilities at play—for one, he is a human, regardless of the Bright Queen’s favor. I am hardly back in good standing with the Dynasty and must be on my best behavior. What would mother think? Am I at a point in my life where I still care about that? Should I tell—

 “If it’s too much, I don’t have to. I think it would be nice,” Caleb interrupts Essek’s train of thought so rudely, “to be able to be seen with you in Rosohna. To not be afraid to live together openly, without having to have sneaky meetings back and forth?” Caleb suggests this with such seriousness that it makes Essek dizzy.

“ D’anthe… I am just nervous,”

“I’m sure you are.”

“You know, the Dynasty is still on shaky terms with me, and my mother is a beast in her own right, separate from my reputation,” Essek reminds him.

“I am aware.”

“And… you are a human,”

Essek instantly regrets saying this, seeing the sad puppy-dog eyes that Caleb dons after hearing this, even if it’s for a brief millisecond. Caleb may have always been good at covering up his feelings, but Essek has always been good at reading them. 

“Consider this, Essek: I love you. I have loved even the worst moments, trekking with you through the frozen fields of Eiselcross, and I have loved you at your best, when you have made a particularly novel breakthrough. I have loved you in your casual moments, seeing you try new foods from the Empire that you have not before, or seeing you poorly hide your accent at a vendor’s stall in The Court of Colors and laughing about it together later. I love you so dearly that I think I might burst one day,” Caleb laughs fondly at that last sentence. “I want you to feel comfortable: you can say no. I would not do anything to jeopardize our friendship. But I have a feeling this is something you want to: the comfort of our own home together, without fear of getting caught?” 

Essek is so caught off-guard by the sudden confession that he twitches. If one could double-take at audio rather than visuals, Essek has done precisely that. The two of them have not officially dated: they have made their interest for one another very clear, Essek knows this, and he knows Caleb knows this. To date at all, however, could risk Essek’s standing, and he could not do that after he just got back into his home, got his research funding returned, and frankly, his brother back. 

But Essek does know that to court would technically be okay.

And technically, Caleb is not excluded from society, since he and the Nein have favor. 

“Okay,” he says, reluctantly, under his breath. 

He watches a smile curl onto Caleb’s lips, his blue eyes overcome with a sudden joy and adoration. “Say that one more time, schatz , I didn’t hear it?”

“Yes, you may court me, Caleb Widogast.” Essek confirms, and the two of them laugh together, in a peaceful moment of love and togetherness. Caleb brings him into a hug with his larger, hairy arms, and Essek quickly relaxes into the hug, hand rubbing Caleb’s back affectionately. "You will have to learn the proper dances, though—they would shoot you on the spot for that in Rosohna," he jokes.

The two of them stay like this for a while, a breakthrough that feels so strange for their relationship. And, while Essek can’t shake the ecstaticism he feels for his friend and for himself, though, he still feels like perhaps this is the calm before the storm.

Notes:

SUPER sorry for the wait on this chapter! i was on vacation with some friends for like a week+ and forgot to prewrite the chapter lol... she's here now though!
i will be excited to write colder Essek when that time comes, but for now, I am having so much fun writing an affectionate and changed Essek with an affectionate and changed Caleb... some fluff before regency drama is needed

Notes:

Can you tell I just watched Bridgerton... I've been obsessed with the drama and dazzling quality of the show, so naturally, I had to translate it into Xhorhasian styles. In this, Essek has been very hesitantly accepted back into Kryn society, though not without a lot of gossip and rocky new starts. So excited for all the high society drama and theatre that will be in this. Caleb is going to be very out of his element.

Also this will probably eventually be explicit, but for now it's marked as mature!