## Preface

dinner & diatribes
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/28346562.

Rating:
  Explicit
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  M/M
Fandom:
  Critical Role (Web Series)
Relationship:
  Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Characters:
  Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss, The Mighty Nein, others briefly
Additional Tags:
  Established Relationship, married shadowgast, Future Fic, Caleb is Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy, Essek is still Shadowhand, Post-Campaign 2, Politics, Ballroom Dancing, Light Angst, Comfort, Tenderness, Protective Essek, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Future, Married Couple, rated E for chapter 3 alone, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 1 of post-campaign shadowgast
Stats:
  Published: 2020-12-26 Completed: 2021-06-02 Words: 14,529 Chapters: 3/3

# dinner & diatribes

by wytch-lyghts (flight_on_broken_wings)

Summary

> The music swelled, elegantly matched pairs spinning past each other across the floor where the dance carried them. Weaving behind the pillars and braziers of glowing coals lining the hall, Caleb scanned over the shifting sea of guests for his husband. His husband. Oh gods.

> It still sounded strange. His husband. Good, decidedly good, but strange, making his heart stumble over itself dangerously. The thought put the most fragile, fluttering sensation in his chest that he had yet to put words to and a stupid grin on his face when he wasn’t being careful. And he was presently being exceptionally careful. These nations were allies, technically, but their elite—his guests—bared their teeth at one another more than they did smile. If they made it through the night without any bloodshed at this anniversary of the peace, that alone would be worth celebrating.

Notes

> Title taken from Hozier's 'Dinner & Diatribes', this fic's inspiration.

See the end of the work for more notes

## Chapter 1: Part I.

One deep breath, followed by another. Caleb stared at himself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner of their bedroom.

His eyes trailed over the neat braid tying back the hair around his face, Essek’s hands more adept at it than his own. His coat was pressed, collar starched, face clean shaven, but it was an imperfect facade, and the cracks were beginning to show.

Etiquette, Jester had chided him, grinning devilishly, don’t you know anything about proper etiquette? But Caleb’s limited classical education only carried him so far, only providing the functional, the essential. So, no, Caleb had told her, apparently not.

And everything, everything that Jester took such great delight in informing him of, from the invitations (they have to be embossed, Caleb) to the food and drink (it’s not a party without champagne, Caleb) to the decor (why is everything so dreary, Caleb) and the necessity of preparing guest rooms (some of them are coming all the way from Rosohna, Caleb) was foreign to him. It did not help his agitation that Veth nodded along to every word out of Jester’s mouth so eagerly, despite how certain Caleb was that she knew nothing more than he did about hosting a celebration of the scale he had been burdened with hosting.

“Do you find it strange,” Essek was asking him from the bureau as he sorted through his collection of jewelry with a critical eye, all silver and platinum and white gold, each delicate piece more ornate than the last. “Dwendal insists upon celebrating an anniversary of the peace, and then doesn’t even plan to attend.”

Caleb was half listening, agonizing over the coming evening and wrestling with the collar of his shirt—too high, too stiff, irritating where it rubbed against his neck when he turned his head, though no amount of tugging at it made it sit right. “Not really,” he grunted. “He never appears in public.”

Gods, how he wished Dwendal would have decided to make an appearance. The whole thing would have been bigger, grander, worse, but even if not at Castle Ungebroch, the Crown would have provided the venue for security concerns. Caleb didn’t even know if the manor was big enough to accommodate the guest list he’d been handed under duress, thanks to his Royal Highness and his “good faith endeavor” to prove the peace would last. Something about his recent marriage (it was not that recent, he had protested) making them “symbolic candidates” to host the event.

At least there were no names on that list which he would classify as downright hostile due to ever having crossed paths with the Mighty Nein. Not anymore, anyway. But with others… there was a history there best left in the past and kept at a distance.

Essek hummed a dissatisfied note, unconvinced. “I’m not sure how much of a commitment that makes this little farce. The Queen could have so easily taken it as a slight. And what a strange anniversary to celebrate, five years. It’s hardly been a moment since we’ve stopped killing each other.”

He appeared over Caleb’s shoulder in the reflection, smoothing down imaginary wisps of hair as if any had escaped his elegant coif before turning this way and that, scrutinizing the platinum earrings he’d taken such pains to select, delicately vining cuffs that extended toward the points of his ears.

Caleb huffed, forcing his jaw to unlock. “Perhaps not to the Dynasty. Five years is something worth celebrating in a human lifespan,” he muttered, frustration coiling hot in his chest. He bit back a hiss of annoyance as his fumbling only served to dislodge the knot in his cravat, the coarse fabric already too tight around his throat. Plucking at it uselessly, his attempt to fix the damage and tuck the ends smoothly into his collar seemed to only make it worse.

With a fresh swell of anxiety, a constant companion behind his sternum of late, Caleb was reminded that he felt hopelessly, laughably unequipped.

Cursing quietly under his breath, he gave up on his collar, forcing himself to return his hands to his sides and take a slow, deep breath. He held it a moment before exhaling, so tightly strung that he watched his shoulders barely fall in the mirror as he did so, trying to categorize the feeling crawling across his skin.

Essek noticed. How could he not. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in interest, their eyes meeting in the reflection, the corner of his lips curling sharply in amusement. “Somehow, watching you struggle in this mirror isn’t quite the same when it’s to put clothing on. Ask for help, won’t you?”

Caleb snorted at the comment, not quite in the mood to entertain those particular memories. “Arschloch,” he grumbled, ignoring him.

When their eyes met a second time, Essek’s expression had softened with understanding, arrogant smirk gentling into a reassuring smile that reached even the corners of his eyes. It struck Caleb then, how he had hardly changed at all since they’d first met those years ago, effortlessly put together and beautiful, silver mantle much the same as that which he wore in the Bright Queen’s throne room but his robes were more richly textured, silver embroidery catching the light tastefully, a complicated geometric motif.

Meanwhile the grey creeping in at Caleb’s temples and in his beard when he let it grow out hadn’t escaped his notice, worry lines in his brow deeper than before. It didn’t bother him, not in the sense it concerned him that Essek’s natural lifespan far outlasted his own—there were plenty of arcane solutions far short of lichdom to extend a lifespan and restore youth, particularly when one was as well versed in transmutation as himself—but while it hadn’t before, his age suddenly felt pressing. And it only added to the anxiety that had Caleb’s heart thrumming in his chest for the past hour with no sign of slowing, not at all prepared for his every detail to be scrutinized by the worst gossips in Wildemount.

As if following his gaze in the reflection, Essek leaned over his shoulder to press a light kiss to his temple. “Let me,” he offered, his voice soft and touch light on Caleb’s shoulders, nudging him gently until he turned away from the mirror and around to face him.

The minimal space between them, warm and shrinking as Essek shifted closer still, forced Caleb to look up slightly to meet his gaze, highlighting that frustrating inch or two of height that Essek held on him even while planted firmly on the ground. His tongue darting out to wet his lips, Caleb said nothing, merely nodding his assent before glancing away, his eyes dragged to the floor.

Essek’s hands smoothed up the front of his waist coat before tugging lightly at the corners of his collar, humming a pleased little sound when he had them aligned appropriately again, an infinitesimal difference. “Look up,” he instructed, his fingertips brushing Caleb’s throat before hooking into the top of the cravat when he obeyed, tugging it slightly looser and lower on his neck.

Caleb watched Essek’s expression shift as he fussed with the infuriating bit of fabric, a slowly developing frown pressing his lips into a hard line, eyebrows knit together as he focused. “There,” Essek finally breathed, pausing to study his work, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. “I think that will do.”

Caleb swallowed dryly, trying on a weak smile as he nodded his thanks.

He expected Essek to step back, to finish preparing himself, but he stayed, his brow knit as he watched Caleb’s expression with something akin to growing concern. “You hate it, don’t you,” he murmured, not really a question.

Caleb couldn’t stop his eyes from darting away. “It’s fine,” he sighed, catching Essek’s hand against his lapel before it slid away, squeezing gently. “Thank you.”

Essek’s head tilted to the side, lifting the hand not resting over Caleb’s heart to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “If it bothers you,” he said simply, “don’t wear it.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Caleb’s mouth. “After you just worked so hard on it?”

He had expected a dry remark, a smirk, something intelligent. But Essek’s expression was serious, his touch warm and achingly soft. “I would rather you be comfortable.”

Caleb laughed, a short, harsh sound. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Schatz. Not tonight.”

Essek exhaled slowly, the furrow of his brow softening as he understood. “We will get through it,” he reminded him softly, a great deal more confident than Caleb felt. “Tonight it will be just you and I again, and it will be behind us. And until then, I see no need to choose to make it more unpleasant for yourself than need be.” His smile grew, just slightly. “Even if it means you don’t wear this collar thing that Veth picked for you,” Essek said as he plucked at the cravat, still too tight around Caleb’s throat for his liking, not quite similar to anything commonplace in Dynasty apparel.

Then, having made up his mind for him, Essek pressed up onto his toes to brush a kiss to Caleb’s forehead, retreating again before Caleb could react. He sidestepped to the standing wardrobe beside the mirror, already hanging open, the discarded tailcoats and vests that Caleb had opted against wearing folded over its doors. Blinking in surprise, Caleb watched as Essek hummed to himself in consideration, flicking through the hanging shirts and coats insides until he paused at a few options which evidently merited longer deliberation.

Despite himself, Caleb couldn’t help but be endlessly endeared, watching as Essek grinned, a slight thing, satisfied with himself. He pulled from the hangers a fresh shirt, stark white and much the same as what he wore but without such a ridiculously high collar, and a dinner jacket double-breasted to match. “Take that thing off,” Essek instructed, pausing a half second, gnawing at his lip and studying his selections before thinking better of it and waiving generally at Caleb’s torso. “Actually, all of it, waist up. Put the vest back on though. I like how it hugs your waist and it will match that blue necktie of yours. Brings out your eyes.”

Caleb blinked mutely. “You like how –”

“I said what I said,” Essek muttered quietly, ducking his head and tossing the clothing at Caleb before turning away.

He couldn’t help but grin to himself. “Brings out my –”

“Strip. We don’t have all evening,” Essek sighed, exasperated.

Caleb’s heart skipped a beat at the command and the tone he took for an entirely new reason. “Yes, Sir,” he laughed, a small grin tugging at his lips as he turned away to lay the clothes Essek picked across the foot of their bed. Pulling at the cravat until it came free with no small amount of relief, he started on the buttons of his coat.

“Is there anyone in particular we are looking to create a positive impression with tonight?” Essek asked from behind him, shifting subjects. “We ought to discuss a strategy if so.”

“If you are asking about the dens represented tonight, I’m afraid I am still woefully ignorant of their high society politics. You would know better, and probably put a better foot forward,” Caleb added somewhat sheepishly, pausing to tug his shirt over his head, “if we ought to make an effort with any of them.”

He heard Essek huff to himself, closer than he’d thought, but still no enough warning to keep Caleb from flinching in surprise when he felt his husband’s cool fingers skate over his bare waist, palms splayed flat over his ribs as his arms wrapped around him from behind. He felt a smile curl against the soft skin behind his ear, followed by the playful nip of teeth.

“Almost a hundred and thirty years and I still do not fully understand den politics,” Essek chuckled, each puff of breath warm against his neck. “Do not feel bad for that. Though you probably navigate my mother more skillfully than I,” he added under his breath, “so credit where credit is due.”

“Ah, but she will not be in attendance tonight.” Caleb picked up the fresh shirt, unable to pull it on without dislodging Essek from his back, but he was sure they were not so short on time as for that to be necessary.

“No,” Essek agreed, exhaling heavily and leaning into Caleb a little more solidly. “Small blessings.” A pause, and he pulled away, leaving Caleb missing the warmth against his back. As he ducked into his shirt, Essek resumed. “But anyway, no. My question was more about the guests from your side of things. We are in respectable standing with the dens.”

“Respectable standing,” Caleb echoed Essek’s assessment, a clear question in his tone.

“Mhm, yes. In fact, well, it would be poor form to approach you alone about this sort of thing, but if you find you suspect a conversation is angling toward currying favor with Den Thelyss, be very careful not to agree to anything on accident—no social calls, no dinner invites, not just because these things so quickly become obligations but because they are so very tedious and unnecessary.”

Caleb huffed in amusement at that, turning to sit on the edge of their bed as he re-buttoned his waist coat. Essek took his spread knees as an open invitation, moving to stand between them to straighten out his collar, a familiar light blue necktie in hand, silk not nearly so irritating that against his throat as Essek tied it in place.

Letting his eyes drift closed for a moment, Caleb enjoyed how Essek’s fingers lingered, thumbing almost absently over his pulse.

“Approach me to curry favor with Den Thelyss,” he mused, pulling the dinner jacket over his shoulders. “I’m not sure how that happened.”

When Essek was silent longer than Caleb expected, he looked up from wrestling with the annoying little buttons at his wrists to find Essek’s eyes, his expression pensive. “Whatever you think of yourself, or us, my Light,” Essek said seriously, so earnestly it made his chest ache, cupping his jaw with one hand and tucking a lock of hair that had fallen loose from his braid behind his ear with the other. “Drama all that while ago be damned, I married quite well, I will remind you, Mr. Hero of the Dynasty and Exandria and all that,” Essek reminded him, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “Den Theylss was more than pleased to stake their claim on you. Human or not, the soul is all that the Luxon and those who believe in it care about.”

Caleb exhaled heavily, closing his eyes and leaning into Essek’s touch. “I hope that ‘hero’ title doesn’t have to be renewed very often. Teaching has far better hours and far fewer near death experiences,” he muttered.

Essek chuckled lightly. “Pays significantly less though,” he teased.

“If it means I am home every night at a reasonable hour and wake every morning beside you, well worth it, I think,” Caleb said softly, letting his eyes drift close and turning his head to brush his lips against the inside of his husband’s wrist.

“Oh, d’anthe,” Essek breathed, shakier than the moment before. He pressed closer, and Caleb leaned forward to rest his forehead against his middle, welcoming Essek’s hand settling on the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “You cannot just say things like that.”

Caleb hid his smile in Essek’s robes, wishing for nothing more than more time. He didn’t want to go downstairs, to leave this room, this moment of privacy.

“I am afraid I can’t make that promise,” he said, exhaling heavily and drawing a cleansing breath into his lungs.

He didn’t protest as he felt Essek’s fingers tugging at his hair tie, gently pulling it free to run his fingers through Caleb’s hair, his other hand cupping his jaw delicately and lifting his chin to look up. The low light of amber orbs drifting slowly around the ceiling haloed Essek’s face beautifully, his lavender eyes shining, white hair and silver jewelry reflecting the low glow like motes of starlight.

Caleb swallowed, his mouth gone dry. Overwhelming, his love for this man. “I am afraid I won’t even try.”

“You’re going to make us late,” Essek warned, faux-serious, his slow smile broad enough to reveal the tips of his canines peeking through.

“Oh?”

“I’m going to have to redo your hair,” he explained, blinking at Caleb innocently as he closed his fist in Caleb’s hair and tugged just shy of sharply, using his grip to angle Caleb’s head back just so, watching with an appraising look through his eyelashes.

Caleb suppressed a shudder, taking a measured breath. Hands on Caleb’s shoulders, Essek nudged him back until he caught on, moving further up the bed. Far enough for Essek to shift forward to kneel, straddling Caleb’s lap.

“Oh,” Caleb chuckled, hands going to Essek’s waist, drawing him closer. “Well that’s your fault, don’t you think?”

“Hm, maybe so,” he admitted, a soft purr. “Shame we don’t have more time, though.”

“We have some time,” Caleb offered, fighting the warm flush that crept along his face and vanished into his collar.

Essek laughed, low and warm. “Not enough. I’m not redoing this,” he warned, gesturing to himself, his appearance flawless, though for all he wore it effortlessly, having seen the process, Caleb knew that it was not.

He grinned at that, raising an eyebrow. “What if I promise not to mess up your hair?”

“You will.”

“I won’t,” he promised, hands exploring down the backs of Essek’s thighs, earning him a sharp swat.

“You will,” he chastised. “But the pleasant thing is,” Essek purred, “they will be plenty of time to ruin all this hard work later tonight.”

“I will hold you to that,” Caleb warned, reaching up to tug Essek down into a biting kiss, as heated as it was brief.

“Yes, I rather hope you will.”

## Chapter 2: Part II.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The delicate crystal, once chilled, had long since gone warm between his fingers, the liquid within tepid and unappealing. Constant discomfort making him a distant observer to himself, Caleb had been conscious of each moment he’d held, motioned with, and smiled politely behind the champagne flute ever since the entrance of their guests had begun to be announced.

Everything but actually drink from it.

The hour late enough to bring nightfall outside but not yet so late as to bring an end to his social obligations, Caleb debated finally abandoning the thing atop the tray of a passing server. It was an awkward social crutch when his only company for a rare moment was the blessedly mute marble banister at the base of the grand staircase.

It at least did not ask him about his work. About the school. About the Nein. About his marriage. Anything and everything personal deemed suitable subjects for polite conversation.

Essek had assured him that this was normal. Expected. Tolerable.

Essek had abandoned him with nothing but an apologetic smile, looking rueful for the both of them, to the over-eager dignitary from Tal’dorei at the beckoning of an influential Den Mother.

Caleb breathed deeply, schooling his expression should anyone be looking. Re-centering himself, he let his eyes wander over the hall, trying to track down his elusive husband.

The manor’s ballroom was glowing with the warm hues of fire light, draped in soft reds and golds and autumn colors. Jester and Veth had done a fine job decorating, among everything else. The air swelled with the gentle music of stringed instruments as attendees moved freely about, now far more comfortable with one another by this late stage of the evening. Or else they pretended to be. But no false smiles had been dropped yet, and Caleb would consider that a win.

The braziers lining the ballroom and the distant light of candles flickering among the dark rafters like so many stars—suspended with a minor enchantment Essek had worked up, the effect admittedly more impressive than Caleb expected—glittered over an impressive display of jewelry, gemstones, and fine clothing adorning their guests. Toward the far end of the ballroom, the manor’s east wing, the many glass panel doors were thrown open to allow attendees to spill out onto the veranda and into gardens beyond it, the cool evening breeze a welcome relief.

As was proving to be the theme of the evening however, Caleb found he was afforded precious few minutes alone.

“ Ca-leb ,” Jester cooed from over his shoulder, pulling him back from where his mind wandered with a start as she flitted past him with a twirl, the bottom of her pastel pink dress flaring out around her gracefully. In usual dramatic form, Jester pouted at him somewhat sternly, mimicking poorly, he realized belated, his own expression. “It’s a party. You’re supposed to be having fun .”

He tried on a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s worse , Caleb.”

Exhaling heavily, he readopted the expression he’d donned for most of the night, one he’d decided conveyed an appropriate degree of attentiveness and polite interest. He scanned the nearby attendees quickly, deciding they were sufficiently out of earshot. “Not all of us can entertain ourselves by impersonating Xhorhasian royalty,” he said quietly, sternly, turning into her slightly to put his back to any potential eavesdroppers.

Jester had the good grace to at least pretend to be shamefaced, drifting closer. “Oops,” she giggled, a gloved hand lifting to cover his mouth. “You heard that, huh?”

He tried not to let his fondness for her soften the criticism too much, though he wasn’t sure how successfully he managed it, the corner of his mouth ticking upward of its own accord for the first time since he and Essek had descended the stairs. “More than you know, Duchess ,” he said quietly, glancing sidelong across the hall at the graying High Priest of the Chantry of the Dawn, a man only adjacent to Rexxentrum’s politics who evidently had no ear for accents nor knowledge of the prominent Dens and denizens of the Dynasty. “Might I suggest you pick a title which actually exists in the Dynasty next time?”

“Well it’s not like he knew the difference.” She wrinkled her nose at him, faux-distaste equally affectionate. “Shouldn’t you be finding your husband ,” she teased, wriggling her eyebrows at him as though this were something she could still embarrass him for. “Or has he abandoned you.”

“He was pulled into a conversation with Lady Olios.” The Umavi had been oddly insistent. “Something about recent tax revenue directed toward Asarius, of all things,” he muttered, prompting Jester to pull a dreadfully bored expression. “I’m sure that was merely an excuse to start a conversation. Regardless, I am under strict instruction to liberate him in”—Caleb paused to recalculate—“seven minutes and fourteen seconds.”

“Oh, he told you that, huh?” Jester raised a dubious eyebrow.

Caleb studied the lukewarm champagne in his hand more closely than it demanded. “It was more of a look.”

“You want me to cause a distraction or something?”

“I think you’ve done quite enough,” he warned gently. “I would caution you against creating an international incident. The peace is still fresh,” he said, only a slight exaggeration.

“ Look ,” Jester sighed. “What was I supposed to do when that old guy tells me, looking at me like that ,” she emphasized, grimacing in real disgust, “that he’s ‘ never had the privilege to meet such an exquisite creature ’,” she mocked in a serious, low tone he took to be her haughty impression of the High Priest.

“Oh no,” Caleb empathized softly, wincing. “Did Beau –”

“Beau, thankfully, was not there for that.” Worse incident avoided then. “She and Fjord haven’t left the bar for a while .”

“Ah.” He flicked his gaze over the crowd at her back. “Perhaps you had better join them, Jester.”

She laughed, giving him an odd look. “Why?”

He straightened up, feigning a conversation that didn’t entirely consist of conspiratorial whispers. “Because he’s walking this way,” Caleb said quietly, tracking the slow progression of grey and gold robes bearing the symbol of the Dawnfather in his periphery, moving toward them for a few moments now.

“ What ,” she squealed, only stopped from turning sharply on her heel to look by Caleb grabbing her arm first.

“Don’t look ,” he hissed between grit teeth.

“No he’s not .”

“Oh yes he is,” Caleb warned under his breath, displeasure unmatched by that same pleasant expression plastered across his face. “He’s just bumped into Lord Biylan. You remember him, our old neighbor in Rosohna.”

“Of course I do. He hated our tree,” she recalled, still rather pleased with that fact. But her expression quickly morphed into something far more scandalized. “But never mind that. You won’t lie just a little bit to him for me?” she accused.

“Of course I would, but I don’t want to talk to him either, and you’re bringing him right here,” Caleb admitted. “He’s been trying to talk to me about the Academy and its ‘traditional relationship’ with Rexxentrum’s clergy for months .”

Jester exhaled in a huff. “You’re no help at all.”

“We should both move.”

“Right,” she agreed through a forced smile so much brighter than his own. “See you for brunch tomorrow?”

“Go find Beau. I don’t want to hear her complain about a hangover the whole time.”

They ducked apart as quickly as they’d convened, Jester to the left of the central staircase toward where drinks were being served and Caleb to the right in search of Essek and Lady Olios or, at the very least, a friendly face to hold a conversation with for a few minutes, one hopefully not littered with political and social pitfalls.

The music swelled, elegantly matched pairs spinning past each other across the floor where the dance carried them. Weaving behind the pillars and braziers of glowing coals lining the hall, Caleb scanned over the shifting sea of guests for his husband.

His husband . Oh gods.

It still sounded strange. His husband. Good , decidedly good, but strange, making his heart stumble over itself dangerously. The thought put the most fragile, fluttering sensation in his chest that he had yet to put words to and a stupid grin on his face when he wasn’t being careful. And he was presently being exceptionally careful.

These nations were allies, technically, but their elite—his guests—bared their teeth at one another more than they did smile. If they made it through the night without any bloodshed at this anniversary of the peace, that alone would be worth celebrating.

For the hundredth time, Caleb found himself thumbing at the inconspicuous platinum band on his left hand. Drow of the Dynasty did not exactly have the same customs when it came to unions, but Essek had been willing to humor him there, drawing a hard line of course at the more traditional gold. Silver or platinum, very well and good. But gold would clash terribly , he’d assured him, not the least bit self-conscious.

Caleb loved him still, even in his vanity. When it had ceased being obnoxious and had become charming, if he could have identified the point, would probably have been a very telling moment.

Absently, not quite looking where he walked, Caleb turned the band around and around his finger, a comforting weight, skin-warmed and tangible in a way he hadn’t known he’d needed until he’d donned it. And that had been –

“Congratulations are in order, then.”

It almost startled him visibly. Almost , though his pulse leapt all the same. The voice over his shoulder was soft, the curling lilt of an accent around the edges speaking of its owner’s sharp smile, and turning Caleb’s stomach. He stilled his hand, fighting every instinct to spin sharply and shift his hands behind his back, to hide that part of himself away, his heart in his throat.

Instead, Caleb shifted his hands calmly down to his sides. He hummed an upticked note, polite acknowledgment and nothing more, slowly turning where he stood to raise an eyebrow at the mage. Standing not five feet from him—altogether too close—Ludinus Da’leth raised an equally untouched champagne flute in greeting.

One of those names he would have rather crossed off the King’s guest list, had he been able. Or one he would have at least rather not crossed paths with.

“Martinet,” he intoned with a stiff nod.

The archmage smiled shallowly, just as politely, and with a practiced gesture returned the acknowledgement. “Headmaster.”

The span of a breath passed in mutual silence, Caleb feeling very much that he was being appraised , the tension bridging the space between them somehow different from that which hung in the air throughout their every prior meeting since the removal of Archmage Ikithon and the subsequent restructuring of the Assembly. Ludinus, leveraging his knowledge of Essek’s prior involvement with the Assembly to cling to his position of influence with the King if nothing else (doing so by a thread even more tenuous than his claim to no knowledge of the Volstrucker program) had never expressed overt malice in the aftermath that saw Caleb reject court politics and assume leadership of a newly independent Soltryce Academy.

But the brittle thing between them was still very far from mutual respect.

“If you are congratulating me for the five years of peace between the Dynasty and Empire…” Caleb began with a coolly incredulous look, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “You overestimate my influence and role in that.”

Ludinus chuckled, a short huff of amusement and a crinkle about the elf’s eyes that Caleb doubted a great deal to be genuine. “Not at all,” he said, with a look that Caleb had difficulty assigning meaning to. “There are a great many parties responsible for the lasting peace honored tonight. My comment had more to do with–” he gestured with his glass down to Caleb’s hand. As if Caleb hadn’t known precisely what he’d meant. As if Ludinus didn't know Caleb knew, pursuing the topic regardless.

If the passage of any number of years could’ve made him comfortable discussing his personal life with the Martinet, a mere five was certainly not enough.

Ludinus drifted uncomfortably closer, head cocked to the side curiously. “That wasn’t there, last we had the pleasure of speaking.”

It took Caleb an embarrassingly long series of seconds to decide exactly how he wanted to respond to that, treating Ludinus to a blank look in the meantime.

“A good eye,” he said flatly, not quite cold, but a near thing. Hand still at his side, his thumb brushed over his wedding band again. “It was not.”

There was a moment, a sudden spike of anxiety in his chest which he strove to bury, in which Caleb was barely able to stop his eyes from darting to where he’d last seen Essek disappear into the crowd. This is not a secret , he reminded himself, slowly, purposefully, as he had many times before. Not a vulnerability . Even though it felt like it. Even though by tying himself to Essek, he tied himself to the threat that Ludinus held over him.

Inert blackmail, he knew. They had reached a palatable resolution, and sabotage would do nothing but ensure mutual destruction. Still, there was a moment in which Caleb squirmed on the inside, too exposed. A moment, he would allow himself. And then no more.

“So, as I said, congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, keeping his tone neutral. He studied Ludinus quizzically, finding no indication of what he expected from this conversation, though he doubted he would have approached if he did not want something . “It was not exactly a publicized event.”

There had been eleven people at his wedding, and two of them had been his husband and himself. It might have been a better attended affair, but Den Thelyss had seen fit to recognize their union at a far more formal and altogether colder ceremony in the Light of the Luxon—a farce in Essek’s eyes and a harmless bit of performance to keep familial relations intact in Caleb’s. So it was that gathering of friends that Caleb and Essek considered the one that counted.

Though he wouldn’t be saying a damn thing about any of that to the Martinet.

“That was wise, probably,” Ludinus nodded agreeably.

“We thought so, yes.”

“Wise, though a shame. I quite enjoy weddings.” His pale eyes shone with his own amusement.

Caleb stopped himself from scoffing, barely , the noise that escaped him too close to a laugh. “His Highness the King himself was not invited to my wedding. Do not consider it a slight,” Caleb suggested, unable to keep the hint of bitterness from creeping into the edge of his tone.

“Good on you.” Ludinus looked too much like he meant it. “I would say more,” he began, for they both had their own less than entirely pleasant opinions on the King, himself possibly more than Caleb at the moment. “But the night is not meant for politics, no?”

“No, not meant for politics,” Caleb agreed, “though there is certainly no moratorium on the topic, as it does seem to be coming up quite frequently regardless.” A pause. The Martinet’s expression remained unreadable, unchanged. “I am curious as to whether you plan to honor that intention, Ludinus. Or is there something I can do for you?”

If there was a clear challenge in his flat tone or the way Caleb raised his brow just so, waiting for an answer, then it was obvious only to Da’leth.

That polite smile of his was tight-lipped, the corners twitching. “Of course,” he agreed too smoothly. “I imagine you have been dodging unwelcome conversations all evening.”

Caleb felt the muscles in his jaw leap. The irony of that statement was lost on neither of them. “If only it were so simple,” he said slowly, each syllable purposeful and sharp, though regrettably unable to cut. “Perhaps it would be helpful then, if you informed me of which type of conversation this is.”

“Patience, Widogast,” Ludinus chided, once-polite smile now decidedly less so, even if only for a moment before it receded behind a stoic mask. “I would expect more of it from the man responsible for overseeing the education of our nation’s young minds. Children require such patience.”

He forced himself to breathe slowly, his already thin veneer of politeness fracturing.

Caleb cleared his throat gently, swallowing down the disdain that threatened to seep into his tone. “Oh, I’ve been at it for a few years now, Ludinus,” he reminded needlessly. “With a fair number of successes, I’m pleased to report.”

Remarkable, how easily the man put him on the defensive, his skin prickling, nerves raw and exposed. The last time he’d been confronted like this, his friends had been there, a physical barrier around himself, and there’d been no expectation of civility from any of them; the façade of an expression he maintained for the sake of the evening was hardly a substitute, keeping it up becoming a burden.

And still he couldn’t ignore the fact that Ludinus was better at this two-faced game than him.

“So I’ve heard.” He twirled his champagne flute, either real interest Caleb detected, or another false lead. “The new student ambassador program seems promising.”

“It has certainly shown positive results.”

“A shame though, you had no higher aspirations.”

Caleb saw the barb precisely for what it was, that smile dismissive, belittling, and still it provoked the very resentment toward this arrangement which left Ludinus untouchable that he’d buried down in his chest and come to terms with years ago.

“Well, you said it yourself, Ludinus,” Caleb said coldly. “I find myself responsible for quite a few young minds. Though perhaps unlike yourself, I find teaching our youth to be independent and critical thinkers a worthy endeavor, and high enough an aspiration for me.”

Caleb stopped himself short of whatever else insolent and regrettable was on his tongue, watching in tense silence as Ludinus took some degree of delight in carefully forming whatever he was going to say next, either another shrouded insult or useless pleasantries, or perhaps he would finally start to pry at whatever it was he wanted. Assuming he hadn’t begun that already.

The Martinet only just drew in a breath to speak when –

“Ludinus,” a new voice, Essek’s voice, greeted from just beyond Caleb’s periphery, close enough to startle him. The tone he took with the Martinet was notably less than hospitable.

Caleb didn’t turn to see him emerge from around a small group of dignitaries at the corner of the dance floor for the same reason one doesn’t turn their attention away from a snake within striking distance, but in just a moment he was drifting gracefully to Caleb’s side.

“I must apologize for missing your arrival,” he said as he grew nearer. “I would have greeted you at the door myself.” Somehow, Essek made it sound like a threat.

A feeling like relief he hadn’t expected was palpable, gentling away some of the tension he hadn’t noticed gathering between his shoulders. Each syllable was clipped short in as close to open displeasure as Essek dared. That he’d cut a direct path across the floor in their direction as if to intervene—surely to intervene—hadn’t escaped Caleb’s notice. He very much doubted it escaped the Martinet’s.

Ludinus’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression and demeanor were altogether too schooled for Caleb to interpret anything by it. “Shadowhand,” he greeted, a near sigh. “A pleasure as always. And here I was just offering you both my congratulations on your recent union.”

The way he said it, clinical, cold, made Caleb grind his teeth.

Drifting closer to Caleb’s side, the corner of Essek’s mouth twitched in distaste. “Thank you. Apparently it had not gone without notice.”

Even as Essek spoke, in a stark contrast from the cool disinterest he projected toward Ludinus, Caleb felt Essek’s knuckles brush against the inside of his wrist. It was an almost unnoticeable gesture, warm and fleeting and embarrassingly reassuring.

“Few things do in these circles,” Ludinus noted, more strained than before, with a surprising hint of annoyance. His gaze shifted to Essek, evidently unwelcome in the conversation he’d wanted. Caleb didn’t doubt that court gossip about their atypical union was not the only thing the Martinet was referencing.

“As has become apparent,” Caleb agreed stiffly. He glanced to Essek. “Was there something…?” He left the question open.

Essek leapt at the chance, the full force of his attention on Caleb almost as dismissive of Ludinus as his words. “Yes, I know you had hoped to speak with Regent Hythenos about his work at the Conservatory, but I’ve just been told he has to be leaving soon.” A blatant lie, they’d had that conversation a week ago, yet even Caleb half believed him. Essek’s attention snapped back to the Martinet, not at all apologetic. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but you remember how it was, Ludinus. Research waits for no one.”

Caleb almost choked on nothing at the flippant tone Essek took alone, biting his tongue painfully to keep a straight face as a shadow fell over the archmage’s expression. Essek was better than himself at this game too, though Caleb wished he wouldn’t engage in it.

“I see,” Ludinus intoned, each syllable clipped and eyes cold, but then any hint of anger slipped back under that faux-polite, alarmingly deceptive affect. “No matter. Perhaps we will cross paths again soon. The evening is still young.”

“Of course. So much to catch up on,” Essek agreed dismissively even as Caleb felt his hand at the small of his back, a gentle pressure nudging him forward and into step beside him. “I’d be curious to hear what it is you’re up to these days, Martinet .”

It was all Caleb could do to keep from grimacing, very much hoping their exit didn’t look like flight.

They skirted the edge of the ballroom, walking in tense silence for as long as there was the possibility Ludinus could hear them, Essek’s hand only falling away from the small of his back after they’d put sufficient distance between themselves and where they’d left the Martinet staring coldly after them.

“You should not have said that,” Caleb hissed between his teeth, hardly meeting Essek’s gaze as he focused on keeping his eyes ahead and expression neutral.

“I said nothing –”

“It was the way you said it.”

“You were ambushed,” Essek huffed, the anger at the edge of his tone and hard set of his jaw a surprise. Not quite the diplomatic facade Essek wore so much better than himself.

“And you were reckless,” Caleb cautioned, keeping his voice low, directing his words to Essek at one side even as he nodded a wordless greeting to Taskhand Mirimm as the drow drifted past the other, arm-in-arm with Zadash’s lawmaster. Perhaps even more desperately than he wanted to avoid Ludinus, he wanted to avoid making a scene.

Essek disagreed calmly. “I showed him just as much respect as he is owed. You think it a coincidence he cornered you alone?”

“He is still dangerous, and speaking to him like that only invites –”

“Am I not dangerous?” Essek cut in, turning to look at Caleb directly, not that he met Essek’s gaze for a stubborn moment.

The question threw him, the seriousness of it leaving Caleb unsure of whether he expected an answer. “In a dangerous position , certainly,” he little more than mumbled under his breath, glaring at the floor. “But we’ll not speak of that here.”

“Caleb.”

Essek’s voice had gentled, the softness around his eyes as he looked to Caleb reserved for him alone. It was enough to give him pause.

“That I am the reason you must still contend with him at all,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the Martinet, “has not escaped my attention.” Essek slipped his arm through Caleb’s and threaded their fingers together. It was a small gesture, and subtle, hands down by their sides as they clung to the edges of the crowd, but it warmed Caleb’s heart all the same. “I am sorry for that.”

Caleb dropped his gaze. “I said not here.”

“What I am not sorry for,” Essek continued gently, “is ensuring you don’t have to speak with him, certainly not alone, for a moment longer than you already have.”

“I do not need your protection, Essek.” He flinched after he said it, not meaning for it to sound quite so cold.

Essek squeezed Caleb’s hand between heartbeats, both its own form of forgiveness and asking it in turn. “And yet, you still have it.”

Caleb swallowed whatever further reproach he’d intended to voice, ducking his head slightly, the gleaming hardwood floors a poor excuse for avoiding looking at his husband. Essek seemed content to guide them on for a moment though, as Caleb allowed himself to breathe, and collect himself.

Finally, Caleb sighed, letting his shoulders fall begrudgingly. “I thought it was Jester I had to worry about, not you.” He looked imploringly to Essek. “Just tell me you will behave yourself the rest of the evening.”

That pulled a soft chuckle from Essek, the corners of his lips twitching toward a smile. He leaned in to murmur low in Caleb’s ear, “No promises,” each word a warm breath against his skin, still buzzing with adrenaline.

The sudden closeness caught him by surprise, the air catching in Caleb’s throat dislodging something in his chest which fluttered lightly inside his ribs. “That man already gets under my skin,” he said darkly, his attempt at a warning met with an innocent, too knowing smile. “Don’t you start.”

“Oh,” Essek gave him a chastened look, “I should hope you find me significantly more charming. I have trouble deciphering whether every other phrase from the man’s mouth is a thoroughly veiled threat or else, just…” He clicked his tongue, searching for the right word.

“Thoroughly veiled,” Caleb supplied.

“Indeed. As enjoyable as discussing the Bright Queen’s latest tax and trade initiative is, when you didn’t come find me, I assumed you must be in more dire straits than I.”

Essek tugged Caleb closer to the wall, evading the path of a loud group of minor lords and barons from Nogvurot and the surrounding tillage, if Caleb’s eye for signets was accurate, which it usually was. He’d assumed, as most things political in Rexxentrum, their addition to the King’s list had been buried five favors deep in business he’d rather not know about anyway.

Once they had passed, Essek cleared his throat quietly. “Was I mistaken?”

“About finding you more charming?” Caleb deadpanned, though the quirk at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

Essek huffed at that, amused. “No, I’m quite confident about that.”

Caleb hummed softly, admitting, “You are rarely mistaken, Schatz ,” words not carrying far from the space between them, the music growing louder, lifting toward the rafters. “And no, not about that.” Even if not quite as tactful a rescue as Caleb would’ve preferred, there was no sense begrudging him being correct.

Still, the worry line in Essek’s brow grew deeper. He lowered his voice further, this time without the playfulness. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“A private conversation at least, I would assume.”

“Poor odds of finding that here ,” Essek scoffed, disdainful. He tilted his head after the words left his mouth though, considering it. “Not impossible though.” He treated Caleb to a meaningful look, which Caleb followed as he glanced next at the figures they passed. Most were paying them no mind, too caught up in their own drink and conversations, but others, far too curious for their own good.

“If you don’t think we would be missed,” he said, tongue in cheek, as though he hadn’t been prepared to abandon the celebration and their guests two hours ago.

“I don’t think anyone would notice or care if we stepped away for a few minutes,” Essek allowed. Taking his hand back, Essek offered Caleb his arm instead, an invitation to follow and more.

Caleb abandoned his untouched glass on the deep inset ledge of the darkened window beside them, looping his arm through Essek’s. “Lead on.”

They were already near the end of the ballroom, a short walk from the double doors thrown wide open onto the veranda, early autumn breeze rustling the wine red drapery that Veth had insisted decorate the arches and doorways.

The cool air was a welcome change as they stepped out onto the mossy stonework, stars barely peeking through the vine-covered latticework stretching overhead. A few couples lingered along the railing, but as the evening grew later and the sky outside darker, despite the lanterns strung artfully between the trees that lined the path, captured fragments of sunlight within their warmly tinted glass the same as the ones Jester and Caduceus had strung up in the tree of the Xhorhaus, no one was wandering far from the manor—not until Essek escorted him across the veranda, down the stone steps, and along the cobbled walkway deeper into the garden.

“You said you’d thought you needed to keep an eye on Jester,” Essek began as they walked, the sound of music and conversation fading into the gentle rhythm of wind-rustled trees and chirping insects. “Have you seen her… ” he looked to Caleb, a question he didn’t quite know how to voice hanging on his words.

“Masquerading as the Duchess of somewhere I hope no one tries to find on a map?” He was torn between laughing and pressing at the stress headache beginning to form behind his eyes. “Yes, I’ve seen her. Somehow the most diplomatic solution to that seemed to be to let it play out and hope for the best.”

Essek nodded in understanding, slight furrow in his brow forming as his thoughts lingered on the subject. But they walked in comfortable silence for a few moments more, the more distance between them and the gala, the more tension Caleb felt bleed away.

The lights from the ballroom windows were a beacon in the night, the last dredges of sun-stained sky fading to black on the far horizon. But behind the tall hedges and through the trees diffusing the soft lantern light along the main path which they’d abandoned in favor of a more secluded trail, it would be difficult for even keen eyes to find them. It felt scandalous almost. Secretive, in a way their relationship hadn’t since Beau had first barged in on them to everyone’s dismay, locked door be damned.

“It could have been worse,” Caleb saighed as they wandered along one of the narrow paths winding through the garden, relying more and more on Essek’s vision to guide them through the dark.

“It can always be worse,” Essek agreed, their arms still linked, pulling Caleb gently toward the gurgling sound of the fountain situated in the middle of the small cobblestone terrace at the heart of the gardens. The water was just barely audible under the slow music that drifted across the garden from the open ballroom doors.

“She could have rudely abandoned an influential Den Mother to rush across the room and intervene in my conversation with Da’leth,” he teased lightly, glancing up at Essek, dappled in silver moonlight.

Essek tensed at the condemnation, but there was no heat behind the words. Only a terrible fondness. He lifted his chin a fraction, straightening the set of his shoulders. “Ah,” he smiled guiltily, “that obvious?”

“Probably not to most.” Caleb rocked his shoulder into Essek’s side as they walked, pressing closer. Caleb wasn’t able to see much with his only human eyes, but he felt his feet hit the cobblestone of the terrace, and the sound of the fountain grew more discernible. “I trust it was not so bad, if you didn’t need to return to Lady Olios and smooth over any ruffled feathers.”

“I… was excused,” Essek admitted, strangely hesitant.

Arm in his, Caleb pulled them to a stop, here, blanketed by nightfall and hemmed in by trees as good a place as any. Moving around to face him, the soft light spilling across the grounds from the manor a distant backdrop, the pale light breaking through the overhead branches danced across the glint of Essek’s hair and jewelry, and in his eyes when their gazes met.

“Yes?”

“Lady Olios saw you with Ludinus first,” Essek explained, his eyes glancing away to flit through the dark before returning. “And called it to my attention. But if anything, oddly enough, I believe she came away with a higher opinion of me than when we began the conversation,” he added, like it was some small consolation.

Caleb couldn’t help but wince. He’d hoped he hadn’t been so easy to read.

“You seemed uncomfortable, frustration nearing upon anger,” Essek elaborated slowly, understanding well the source of the concern that pinched Caleb’s brow. “To me,” he added softly, itself the most comforting part.

All Caleb could make out through the dark was the outline of Essek before him and that of the trees above sketched in starlight silver; and so he felt before he saw the warmth of Essek’s palm against the corner of his jaw. Heard the tentative whisper of skin across skin as his thumb brushed over Caleb’s cheek before coming to rest.

He hummed, unconvinced, but he turned into Essek’s touch. Practiced, how his hands settled by their own accord at Essek’s waist as he drifted closer, unsure which of them felt drawn to close the already minimal distance between them, or if that gravity was mutual.

“Anyone would be uncomfortable around the man,” Essek reasoned, unconcerned. “For the same reason anyone who knows the nature of a snake shouldn’t like to be left alone in the company of one.” Caleb couldn’t help but grin at that, the sharp corners of his smirk gentled by the lingering kiss Essek pressed to his brow. “I wouldn’t worry over it,” Essek whispered.

He bit the inside of his cheek, tilting his chin up slightly, chasing after that warmth. “What did she say?”

The question pulled a quiet laugh up from Essek’s chest. “Something about my husband looking a few choice words away from violence. ”

“Oh, hell,” Caleb sighed, dropping his head to Essek’s shoulder to hide from the judgement that wasn’t coming. Not from Essek.

Essek’s touch shifted from the corner of Caleb’s jaw to settle at the nape of his neck, fingers sliding carefully through his loose hair. He still sounded too amused for Caleb’s liking, asking, “At events like these, who isn’t?”

Caleb huffed in not quite agreement, turning his face into the side of Essek’s neck and nuzzling closer, his collar warm and far more comfortable to rest his cheek against than the metal of the mantle covering his shoulders. A soft sound escaped Essek’s chest, something like surprise, but no more.

“That what you told her?” Caleb asked, letting his eyes slip closed for the moment. The privacy afforded by the dark, the soft sound of the violins adding to the natural chorus around them, Essek’s steady warmth and the weight of his arms around him possibly the only thing keeping him upright as Caleb began to feel his exhaustion for the first time that night, rather than merely carry it—it was the first reprieve he’d allowed himself to take all evening.

Essek hummed a short affirmation. His fingers dragged back down the nape of Caleb’s neck, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, sending sparks cascading down Caleb’s spine with an involuntary shiver. “I think she enjoyed the idea that I might have a sense of humor,” he said, fighting the smile that curled at the corner of his lips, though it was a losing battle, a sharp canine peeking through. “I didn’t know how to explain that I was quite serious.”

“Best to leave her to her own conclusions, perhaps,” Caleb suggested, worlds only slightly muffled in Essek’s collar.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Humming along to the low music drifting across the garden, one of Caleb’s hands slid up Essek’s spine to the back of his shoulder, the other settling lower on his hip, slowly coaxing Essek into a slow spin, swaying them gently.

“Caleb,” Essek breathed, close to admonishment.

In response Caleb merely nudged at Essek’s ankles with his boots when he was too slow to pick up the lazy approximation of a box step, his encouragement met with a tired sigh.

“ Caleb ,” Essek protested quietly, impossibly fond and irritated all at once, though still he stepped where Caleb led.

“Essek?” Caleb said, not quite the picture of innocence, how he nipped at the soft skin over Essek’s pulse.

He jolted slightly, huffing, unimpressed. “Dearheart, you know I’m very fond of you, and you’re a wonderful dancer –”

“But?”

“– but these stones are so uneven, and I would imagine you’re rather blind –”

As if on queue, Caleb stumbled as his heel caught a raised flagstone, moving to balance himself only to find Essek’s foot in the way, threatening to send them both to the ground if not for Essek steadying him. Caleb laughed at himself, though Essek only sighed more dramatically, his arms tightening around Caleb in response, a hand sliding down to the small of his back to hold him closer still.

“Well that makes my point, now doesn’t it,” Essek muttered, their brief attempt at a waltz little more than unhurried swaying now.

Caleb tried to search out Essek’s gaze, biting his lower lip against the grin that crept across his face. “If you were worried you would not catch me, you are doing just fine, Schatz,” he reassured.

Essek dropped his forehead to rest lightly against Caleb’s, his shoulders dropping with a heavy exhale. “You are a menace,” he breathed, but Caleb felt the soft smile at the corner of his lips where he brushed a chaste kiss.

“There are worse things than wanting to dance with my husband,” he reasoned.

Essek had no counter to that. Barely had the words to speak, nor the mind to voice them, not as Caleb’s fingers dragged from the back of his shoulder down his arm, taking Essek’s hand gently, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the backs of his knuckles.

“There is no one watching,” Caleb coaxed, taking a half step back, his other hand finding its place along the back of Essek’s ribs, nudging his arm into position until he felt Essek’s hand settle at his shoulder. “No one to laugh if you step on my toes,” he teased softly. “Just follow my lead. And try not to let me take us both down,” he finished with a laugh.

Humming quietly along with the distant music for the first few beats, Caleb was already leading him back into the simple pattern, the four step waltz as slow as they liked and easy to fall into.

Essek just shook his head, sighing in defeat. “Fine,” he breathed, shaking his head slightly. Then, an afterthought, “But I will never understand the appeal.”

Caleb scoffed lightly, feeling his way carefully across uneven patches of moss and stonework, elements just barely visible in the low light of distant stars and lanterns. “I will try not to take offense.”

“You know what I mean.” Caleb was sure he would see him blushing had the slivers of moonlight shifting through the trees been a little brighter.

“You can pretend with anyone else,” Caleb assured him, stepping in close again and pulling Essek into a slow spin, “but I know romance is not entirely lost on you, Essek Thelyss.”

“Whoever fooled you into thinking that?” Essek laughed, his nose nudging Caleb’s, lips brushing, tempting, but just as quickly they parted again, soft music carrying them through the steps.

“I married him,” Caleb said simply, watching, mesmerized by how the low light caught the silver swoop of Essek’s eyelashes, pale lavender eyes shining back at him as though with a light of their own.

Essek’s next exhale came shakier, fingers curling into the fabric of Caleb’s coat, squeezing the hand he still held clasped with his other. “I am glad you did,” he admitted quietly, earnestly, to the dark. To the empty garden. To his audience of one.

Caleb’s answering smile was his easiest of the evening, a familiar warmth uncurling behind his sternum, like coming home. “As am I, Liebling,” he whispered, tugging his husband in close again. “As am I.”

Chapter End Notes

> thanks for reading :)

## Chapter 3: Part III.

Chapter Notes

> Writing post-campaign domestic shadowgast after the final episode is already filmed, but before it airs, I call it Schrödinger's canon. You can't prove all this isn't 100% canon.

A sigh of relief dropped from Caleb’s lips as the doors closed behind them. He finally let his shoulders fall, the tension between them bleeding away, as he and Essek were greeted by the comfort and privacy of their bedroom suite.

The curtains were drawn shut, the arcane lights hovering in their fixtures a steady, soft glow. Half-read books were stacked on the window sill by his favorite armchair, his students’ still ungraded theses on the table. Beside them, Essek’s own stack of files—paperwork not confidential or critical enough to be restricted to the Bastion’s grounds and thus not quite compelling enough to make Essek commit to completing it in a timely manner—sat right where they’d been sitting for days. And stretched across the cushion nestled next to the currently dark fireplace, Frumpkin napped contentedly.

There was a comfort here, not just the relief of all those eyes and expectations finally off them, but in the place itself, in its familiarity. It was hardly the four walls and roof that made it so, however.

Caleb felt Essek step up to his side, a hand settling lightly at his lower back. He allowed his eyes to fall closed, enjoying the feeling of Essek’s hand skating up his spine to rest at the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Caleb tipped his head back into the touch, a quiet, terribly pleased sound catching in the back of his throat.

It pulled a quiet breath of laughter from his husband’s chest, as did Caleb’s groan of complaint at the loss when he stepped away. Essek brushed past him on his way further into the room, fingertips skimming lightly across the back of Caleb’s neck, curving along the edge of his jaw as Essek stepped out of arm’s reach.

Forcing his eyes open once more, Caleb dragged himself forward, navigating around the adjacent chair and dropping down onto the couch with a quiet, pained exhale. He had in the past emerged from literal warfare feeling less scathed and exhausted than he felt right then. But then, he hadn’t been forced to welcome those horrors under his roof, into their home, or been made to put on a smile all evening while he did it. Sinking back into the cushions, Caleb closed his eyes again, listened to the whining hinge of the liquor cabinet doors and the clinking of crystal as Essek unstoppered a decanter, by the sound of it.

Still wordlessly, a moment later, Caleb felt a forearm drape over the back of the couch and across his shoulder, Essek leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. At the same time, he felt a cool glass pressed a into the hand he’d left palm up on the cushion.

He hummed his thanks, fingers curling around the offered glass—chill to the touch, Essek’s fingers still laced with ice flecks from the cantrip—as he accepted it gratefully. Caleb opened his eyes only long enough to try to determine what he was drinking before lifting the glass to toss back a healthy mouthful of something dark amber in color that he didn’t remember purchasing.

He grimaced a little at the burn, but the immediate warmth blooming out from under his sternum was a welcome one.

“That,” Essek said, sounding both vaguely amused and disapproving in that way of his, “is expensive enough, I believe, that it’s meant to be enjoyed .”

Caleb huffed, tilting his head back to look up at Essek, the ill-concealed half smirk touching the corners of his lips altogether too fond for his words to be a real critique. Caleb felt a slight grin tug at his lips in return, though it melted away almost as soon as Essek began petting through his hair with his free hand, nails scratching gently against his scalp.

“You bought it?” Caleb asked, sinking further back into the cushions and Essek’s touch, letting his eyes fall half-lidded first, then closed.

Essek hummed a negative. He began to gently work Caleb’s hair loose from the small braids starting at his temples that Essek had put there earlier. “A gift, I think. From…” Caleb could picture the faint crease in Essek’s brow as he trailed off. “It had been on the shelf for so long,” he admitted, “I really couldn’t say.”

“Then there’s no one to offend,” Caleb concluded, swallowing another mouthful.

Essek laughed, a soft puff of air brushing Caleb’s cheek before he pressed a kiss there, still smiling. “I did not say I was offended, nor that I do not understand,” he said quietly, before pausing, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Caleb’s ear. “Today was not an entirely painless experience,” he acknowledged softly, to which Caleb only grunted, tipping his glass back one last time, returning it now empty to his side.

“No, not entirely,” he agreed around a slight grimace, only mostly at the unpleasant taste.

“But,” Essek continued, the hand draped over Caleb’s shoulder letting his own glass bump Caleb’s collarbone as if to emphasize the point. “Not entirely unbearable either.”

Sighing, Caleb didn’t disagree, and so didn’t feel the need to comment. He plucked half-heartedly at his necktie, not quite mustering up the will to fumble with the knot.

Essek watched his futile efforts for only a moment before brushing Caleb’s hand aside, meeting no protest. He took a sip of his own drink and set it down, freeing both hands to pull the offending material free with a few practiced tugs.

“Danke,” Caleb offered quietly.

“Of course.”

There was little conversation after that, Caleb not in the mood for it and Essek, seeming to sense that, pulling away somewhat reluctantly and busying himself flitting between the bedroom and washroom behind him. He could hear quiet footsteps, becoming muffled. Jewelry clinked quietly as it was deposited on the small silver tray atop the dresser where Essek kept the simpler pieces he wore most often. Their wardrobe doors creaked. The start of his husband’s nightly routine.

Eyes still closed, not quite willing to force himself to his feet yet, Caleb tracked each step across carpet and creaking floorboards as he mapped Essek’s progression through it.

The minutes stretched and blurred together, and at some point Caleb found he was no longer keeping track. He only realized he’d begun to drift when Essek’s voice, raised as he called to him from the other room, pulled him back.

“As much as you complained when putting them on,” he was saying, a teasing edge to his voice, “I thought you’d be eager to be out of those clothes.” A pause, and a nearly imperceptible shift. “Do you require help with that also?” Caleb could hear that damnable smirk, he really swore he could.

A small grin returned to the corners of Caleb’s mouth before his eyes even opened. Rolling up to his feet, he rounded the couch and turned through the open doorway into the bedroom itself.

Caleb’s eyes found Essek almost immediately, seated at the vanity table tucked against the wall, back turned to him, dressed down to silk undershirt and loose fitted pants. Essek didn’t look up, presently frowning down at a loose thread in the embroidery of his robes like it offended him, smoothing his fingers over the material folded over his lap. He gave no indication he’d noticed Caleb’s approach, not until Caleb appeared in the mirror when he arrived almost at Essek’s shoulder.

The light lavender eyes in the mirror flicked up to meet Caleb’s, not even a hint of real surprise there no matter how he tried for innocence, smiling sweetly like that, canines poking through. He deposited his outer robes unceremoniously over the arm of his chair, shifting his attention from it to what he’d been doing before he was distracted, dipping two fingers into the open, small clay pot on the vanity and taking his time rubbing a fragrant lotion into his hands.

Essek’s reflection met his gaze again, raising an eyebrow in the mirror.

Caleb rested one hand on Essek’s shoulder, leaning down over his other to set his empty glass beside Essek’s mostly untouched one on the edge of the table; an excuse to linger close, and a transparent one at that.

Essek huffed in quiet amusement, tilting his head to the side in welcome when Caleb lowered his lips to the corner of his jaw, slowly migrating his attention to that tender spot behind his ear, nibbling gently.

“Hello,” Essek said warmly, quietly, the corners of his smile softening, eyes fixed intently on him in the mirror. His hand came up to tangle in Caleb’s hair, nails dragged pleasantly across his scalp, tugging firmly enough to pull a muffled sound from the back of Caleb’s throat.

Caleb nosed along the sensitive edge of Essek’s ear in retaliation, his teeth grazing against the tip making him twitch slightly, a warm flush creeping across Essek’s composure when Caleb’s eyes flicked back to the mirror, meeting his gaze.

“Hallo,” Caleb returned, a low rasping quality touching his voice that he wished he could say was intentional. “Pushy, are we?”

“Mm, no,” Essek hummed, closing his eyes for a moment as Caleb’s hand trailed down from his shoulder, the thin silk of Essek’s undershirt hardly a barrier to the warmth radiating under Caleb’s fingertips as they landed at his hip. “No, I don’t believe so. Just curious as to whether you intended to sleep on that couch,” he teased, his eyes seeking out Caleb’s again in the mirror.

“Not if I can help it,” Caleb chuckled, with each word his lips brushing against the corner of Essek’s jaw. He exhaled slowly, warm breath ghosting down the long line of Essek’s neck, drawing a slight shiver out of him. “Need I remind you, we had made plans, you and I.”

Essek tore his eyes away from the mirror to turn in his seat and finally face Caleb, face tilted up, gaze flitting from Caleb’s eyes down to his lips. “I was uncertain if those plans had changed,” he said quietly, softer, an out if Caleb wanted it.

He moved his hands to cup Essek’s jaw, pressing a kiss to the beginnings of that smirk, stealing away the sarcasm that lingered there. With an appreciative sound, Essek opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but then Caleb was pulling back, standing upright and leaving Essek to frown up at him, dissatisfied, lips shining and parted on an exhale.

Caleb dragged the callused pad of his thumb across Essek’s slick bottom lip, effectively stifling the complaint he was about to receive. “I am feeling a bit overdressed, Schatz .”

Essek accepted the invitation for what it was. He was on his feet and standing in front of Caleb a moment later. Both hands resting over Caleb’s chest, his fingers trailed heavily down the front of his coat, eyes raking after them with an appreciative hum. “They do look nice on you though,” Essek sighed, something like interest and regret together in his voice making Caleb laugh.

His hands found Essek’s hips, drawing him closer. “I am glad you think so. But I find them a bit confining for what I had in mind. We could work around them, though,” he offered, the lingering blush across Essek’s face only growing deeper.

Caleb didn’t finish the proposal before Essek was shaking his head, worrying at the inside of his cheek. “No, no,” he dismissed. He managed to meet Caleb’s eyes, but the warmth didn’t quite leave his face, his hands sliding inside Caleb’s jacket to skim up the front of his waistcoat. He cleared his throat gently. “I’d rather we not ruin them.”

“If you’re sure,” Caleb granted, rucking up the hem of Essek’s undershirt, seeking out warm skin underneath.

The first brush of his fingers over bare skin made Essek’s breath catch. He easily caught Essek’s lower lip between his teeth, hands exploring up his sides. Essek shivered at the intentionally teasing touches, too light and too much all at once, though whatever sharp complaint he gathered at the tip of his tongue scattered with a gasp as Caleb’s hands dropped back down to Essek’s hips, gripping tight and pulling him closer just a shade shy of roughly, pressed flush from thigh to chest.

Caleb huffed a laugh at the low string of Undercommon Essek hissed under his breath, rocking into his hips ever so slightly, Essek’s hands curled tightly in his lapel. “You don’t seem so sure,” he said, drawing light circles over the cut of Essek’s hip bones with his thumbs.

Caleb felt sharp canines at his pulse, nipping a soft warning. “You are doing that on purpose,” Essek accused, low and strained.

“Did you think I had you here by accident?” Caleb asked low in Essek’s ear, sliding a knee between his legs and walking Essek a step back toward the bed.

Essek’s bit his tongue at the sudden shift, pressure more than friction but tantalizing all the same, muffling a light, strained groan in Caleb’s neck. “No, though I could be more convinced you had any intentions beyond teasing me,” he managed, stumbling slightly upon the back of his knees bumping the mattress.

“Needy,” Caleb tsked, his hand putting pressure on Essek’s shoulder, just enough to be a suggestion, coaxing him down to sit.

He treated Caleb to a flat look, though he sank down to the bedsheets regardless, leaning back so he was propped up on his elbows, watching expectantly.

Caleb just grinned, nudging Essek’s knees wider to make space for himself. Crawling forward over him, he sank down closer.

Though he enjoyed complaining, just as Caleb enjoyed provoking him, all of Essek’s sharp lines and angles melted when Caleb brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheek, only then returning his attentions to his mouth.

It was good, an almost dizzying spiral, that familiar heat, simmering to a boil. Slow at first, mild sweet and lazy like honey, but growing more demanding with each breath traded against the other’s lips. Caleb’s hand lingered at the side of Essek’s neck, thumb stroking over his cheek. Essek’s hands were tugging Caleb’s coat from his shoulders, letting it slide to the floor, forgotten. Both of their hands fumbled over the buttons of his waistcoat, and Caleb couldn’t be sure which of them managed to wrestle it off. But Essek didn’t get past the third button on Caleb’s dress shirt before Caleb’s fingers curled around his wrists, pressing them back down to the mattress.

Essek’s dark eyes flashed a question below him. He tilted his head to the side, looking at him as though looking alone could provide the answer, sheer silk slipping like water against so much smooth skin.

Caleb’s teeth scraped over his exposed collarbone, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Be patient a moment,” he breathed, gently releasing his wrists to push himself upright.

Essek propped himself up on his forearms to watch with unguarded interest, his lips softly parted, from which Caleb couldn’t tear his eyes away as he stripped the rest of the way out of his shirt, out of his belt, partway out of his trousers before Essek grew weary of waiting again, or at least, his smile coy, pretended to; he hooked an ankle behind Caleb’s thigh and pulled him off balance, pulling him closer. Grunting in surprise, Caleb caught himself on the bed, his knees making the mattress dip, forcing Essek’s wider as he shifted forward.

Essek reached for him but hardly touched, the barest brush of fingertips up the front of his chest. He curled a hand in the hair at the back of his head, guiding Caleb down to meet him as he pushed up into another open-mouthed kiss.

“You’re trouble,” Caleb accused softly around his smile. “This what you wanted?” Without preamble, the space between them narrowed away to nothing, Caleb rolled his hips into the cradle of Essek’s spread legs, making them both shudder. Essek choked on a surprised gasp.

Muffling the rest of that sound in Caleb’s shoulder, Essek’s grip in his hair tightened almost painfully, making his exhale hiss through his teeth. His other hand grabbed blindly for the material of his trousers still bunched around the tops of Caleb’s thighs, dragging him down at the same time he arched his hips up into him, messy and uncoordinated and far more rushed than they had cause to be, but Caleb couldn’t have cared less.

Caring little to muffle the groan that left him, he repeated the move, rolling his hips again. He pressed his forehead to Essek’s, enjoying his hands still in his hair and at his hip, possessive how they gripped and pulled and didn’t shy away from what they wanted. He closed his eyes tight, pleasure burning through him, coiling tightly in his belly, but not close to enough.

“I let you get away with too much,” Caleb huffed, breathless with how good it was and impossibly fond, but he was hardly content to end the night by chasing his pleasure half-dressed and desperate against his husband’s thigh, no matter how easy he made it.

A puff of warm breath against his cheek, a wordless roll of his eyes, and as his shoulders shook, Caleb realized Essek was laughing at him silently.

“Something funny?” Caleb asked, rising slightly to lift himself off Essek, intentionally grinding his hip into Essek’s erection as he did so, hard and wanting through the thin cotton of his pants.

The soft moan that lilted in Caleb’s ear made his resolve and his legs tremble, hips twitching against nothing. Then Essek’s hands found their way to Caleb’s sides, dragging teasing light touches along the waistband of his half open trousers.

“I am sorry, D’anthe, ” he whispered, soft and breathy, teeth catching Caleb’s ear, nibbling lightly. “What is it you let me get away with, now?” he asked, voice honeyed sweet and more than enough of a warning before his long fingers ghosted past his navel, dipping inside Caleb’s smallclothes to palm his aching cock. “Was it this?”

Caleb would’ve groaned if he could breathe, burying his face in Essek’s shoulder, fists curled tight around the bedsheets at his sides as Essek’s hand began to gently work him, too slowly to build to anything more than madness.

“Why don’t you let me take care of this, hm?” Essek proposed, in a generous mood evidently, as he didn’t pull his hand away when Caleb’s hips twitched forward involuntarily, instead tightening his grip, thumbing over the damp tip of Caleb’s cock with a sympathetic sound. “Or –” and his soft strokes paused, fingers a loose ring around him, and Caleb swallowed a whine, “– would you consider that allowing me too many liberties,” Essek teased, a devastating half grin curling at the corner of his lips.

“Essek,” Caleb rasped, his breath coming short and ragged against his collar. “ Liebling .”

“Caleb,” he whispered back, “dearest,” smoothing his other hand up Caleb’s back until he was cradling his head to his chest, fingers carding gently through his hair. Everywhere his touch was achingly gentle, slow and soft with no sign of stopping, even his tone sweet, and it was torturous.

A strangled sound, almost a plea, died in Caleb’s chest. “Anything,” he panted, voice still rough, not quite ruined. He exhaled heavily against Essek’s neck, nuzzling closer. “I want what you want,” he managed to force the words past his teeth, earning a pleased hum from his partner.

“I know, my love,” Essek purred, rewarding him with a kiss to his temple and another light squeeze. A twist of his wrist had Caleb’s thighs trembling from the effort of keeping still. “You’re being so very good for me,” he praised, and despite having done too little to earn it, the words and excruciatingly slow pace Essek set sent a fresh wave of heat rippling across his fraying nerves.

Really, ‘plan’ had been a strong word for what he’d had. There had been intent, yes, and an end goal, certainly, but he hadn’t been attached enough to any specific notion of what lay between to deny Essek this, if having Caleb panting and twitching helplessly while he plucked and played his well-known strings was what he wanted. He wasn’t in any position to deny him that, not after a quiet word, a twist of Essek’s will, had gravity reorienting around him, and suddenly Caleb’s back was on the mattress, Essek straddling his waist above him.

Even when it settled again and he’d caught his bearings, gravity still felt amplified, certainly not enough pressure on his shoulders and limbs to stop him from struggling or even from freeing himself if he wished, but enough to make the struggle tempting.

Caleb tried to lift his hips up into Essek’s fleeting touch. Tried to chase after him when Essek released him, eyes and canines flashing in the low light, just to have the air knocked out of his lungs as he could only watch Essek lift his thumb to his lips and lick the pre-spend he’d gathered there from it. Caleb followed the movement of his throat as he swallowed purposefully, only then a thin, pained whine finally tearing itself from his chest.

“Bitte,” he panted, and “ please ,” and a dozen other pleas and curses and accusations, none of them returning Essek’s fingers to where his cock lay flushed red and throbbing half out of his trousers, leaking steadily against his lower belly.

“Tell me you’ll behave for me,” Essek murmured, smiling so sweetly as he leaned down to press damp kisses over Caleb’s thrumming pulse.

“ Ja ,” he choked, his grasp on Common fleeting, leaving him between one gasp and the next, “ Essek.”

“Tell me.”

“I can be good, I’ll be good, anything you want,” he breathed, rolling his hips against nothing, his own clothing becoming rough and irritating against his too-sensitive skin.

Essek’s fingers curled into the waistband of his trousers and smallclothes both, barely touching him, waiting. “Tell me how much you want me,” he whispered. Caleb felt the wicked curve of his grin against the base of his throat, groaned at the sting of his short fangs as Essek sucked a bruising mark there.

The more he tried to lift his hands from the crumpled sheets, the heavier to leaden weight pressing down on them grew. “I need you, Essek, please,” Caleb rasped, his voice breaking. “Touch me, let me touch myself,” he tried, gasping, “anything.”

Essek’s hand curled around his jaw, tilting his face up, impossible not to meet his gaze where he hovered just inches above him. His grip gentled suddenly, brushing sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “You’re just mine, aren’t you?” he preened, even softer.

The impossibly drag of his trousers and smallclothes down his hips and thighs, freeing him finally, was everything he wanted and not enough. “Yours,” Caleb breathed, agreeing all too simple a thing, unable to pull away from Essek’s gaze if he tried. Quiet and raw and like that word alone was all he could possibly manage.

Perhaps it was.

He didn’t manage to piece together any other coherent ones, not in any language, not when Essek’s fingers curled tightly around his dick again, firmly this time, intent where there had been none before. Not when he began laving a burning line down from Caleb’s collar with his lips and tongue and flashes of teeth, down his chest, sucking a dark mark at his hip, at the tender inside of his thigh. And not when he finally took Caleb into his mouth, impossibly hot and wet and too much as his tongue worked at the underside of his cock, cries of nothing and everything tumbling from Caleb’s lips. He thrashed against gravity, against Essek’s hold on him, pleading for he didn’t know what each time Essek took him almost to the root, throat fluttering around the head of his cock.

Either because his concentration wobbled or because Essek wanted it, some moments later, Caleb felt the pressure on his arms lessen, his hands immediately burying themselves in Essek’s hair. Essek’s muffled groan as Caleb’s fingers clenched in the short strands, not pulling with any direction but pulling tightly, rippled straight through him, tension strung through his core coiling fit to snap.

Where Essek was kneeling over him at the edge of the bed, through the moisture blurring his eyes Caleb got only a glance of Essek’s hand down the front of his pants, grinding his hips into his own touch. It stole the breath from his chest, sent him sliding dangerously close to the edge, that sight and the sounds and the splintered realizations that Essek wanted this and wanted him and wanted him like this , slamming into the forefront of his brain. It was futile, trying to tug Essek off him, to warn him, when all it did was make him look up through his lashes and meet Caleb’s eye as he redoubled his efforts, ducking his head to take him down to the root.

Caleb’s orgasm crashed over him with little grace and less warning, choking on a broken string of Zemnian as he spilled himself down Essek’s throat.

He came back down slowly, a broken sound catching in his chest at the overwhelming too good too much almost painful heat as Essek pulled off of him slowly, teeth finding the cut of his hip and eyes closed tightly as he rolled his hips into his own hand desperately, stuttering once, twice, before collapsing across Caleb’s legs with a shaky sigh.

Caleb threaded his fingers through his short hair clumsily, a poor imitation of the poise and control, but all of the gentleness that Essek had treated him to moments before.

He felt Essek stir slightly, panting shallow breaths against his hip, only to settle, eyes fluttering low as Caleb’s fingers combed his hair back from his forehead.

“Because I love you,” Caleb murmured, low and private, taking his time, collecting his breath. “I let you get away with just about anything. Including,” he said, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “whatever that was.”

Essek’s weight shifted atop him slightly, his eyes shining with amusement when he looked up. Perfectly indecent, that smile, lips red and swollen, a pretty flush all the way to the tips of his ears, hair tousled all out of place. “‘Get away with’,” he echoed, huffing lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners with laughter. “You make me out to be a thief, as if it weren’t freely given.”

“Thief,” Caleb accused playfully, rolling onto his side and curling around Essek slightly, legs and clothing and sheets a helpless tangle. “After my heart, my virtue,” he chuckled tiredly, “what won’t you steal next?”

Essek began to crawl up the bed to meet him, flopping onto his back. “A bath, I think,” he sighed.

“Boring,” Caleb decided, kicking his boots off and his trousers and underclothes the rest of the way off with them, a mess on the floor with the rest of their discarded clothing. “Doesn’t count.”

“All your well laid plans, then,” Essek amended, rolling his shoulders against the bed until he’d settled more comfortably, head tipped back, eyes closed.

“I didn’t have any plans beyond getting my hands on your hair,” he admitted, smiling at the pout that pulled at Essek’s brow and the corners of his mouth. “And I managed that, at the end there.”

“I won’t be so generous next time,” Essek muttered, a hollow threat.

“You can pretend you did that on purpose,” Caleb allowed, knowing full well it was the more likely option. “I won’t tell. But –“

Suddenly Essek rolled over onto his front, propped up on his forearms, coming face-to-face with Caleb with precious little space between. Truly that was enough. He didn’t need to silence Caleb’s teasing with a kiss, but who was he to stop him or tell him otherwise.

“How about that,” Essek breathed against his lips, his nose brushing Caleb’s cheek, the taste of him still lingering on his tongue. Caleb cracked his eyes open, unsure of when they’d closed. “Does that count?” he asked, adorably earnest.

Caleb swallowed, settling a hand at the back of Essek’s neck, mind going delightfully blank. Caleb wet his lips, nodded, before he leaned in to steal another.

## Afterword

End Notes

> Thanks for reading! Much love to those who drop kudos or comments<3 I'm also on Twitter talking about nothing but critical role and gay wizards @wytchlyghts

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