Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beau didn’t stop when she entered Caleb’s house - she just walked in the front door, walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

“So I think I’ve fucked up,” she said, then downed the water as if it were something stronger.

“Hello, Beauregard. How did you fuck up?” Caleb checked his page number before setting his book down and moved the sandwich he’d been absently eating aside.

Beau set down the now-empty glass on the counter and finally faced Caleb. “Well, okay. So Astrid and I had our normal ‘meeting between the Cerberus Assembly and the Cobalt Soul to prove that we’re willing to work together even though it’s just a polite fiction’ going on, right? And at the end, we were trying to figure out when to schedule the next meeting. And like, somehow that’s always the worst part of these already horrible meetings, so my mind is pretty numb. And she tried to schedule it for next Miresen, in the evening.”

“Ah, if you have to miss our Feuersegen celebration, then I understand.”

Beau shook her head and sat in the chair across from Caleb - but not before lifting a knowing eyebrow at the two chairs at his small kitchen table. “No, man, this is your thing. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Which is what I told her.”

“I fail to see a fuck up?” He tried his best to look disinterested. Having a second chair didn’t necessarily mean anything - certainly not that a certain Krynn colleague had taken to sharing meals with him in his home. And if he had, it was none of her business.

“She invited herself.”

“Ah.” He’d kept his distance from Astrid - from all of the Cerberus Assembly - since they had left the Blooming Grove. Beau had been the official intermediary for their investigation, and Caleb had been grateful that she had taken that lead without question.

Beau went from reluctant to defensive in a flurry of arm movements, and Caleb leaned back in his chair out of instinct - even though he was safely out of range. “Look, I’m better at the diplomacy thing than I used to be, but like, she’s both a politician and an assassin and I felt like if I was going to say no or even like ‘ask Caleb yourself’ it was somehow going to start a war. I can’t explain it; I don’t even know with who!”

And there was no way that Astrid didn’t know the date. She’d grown up in Blumenthal, same as Caleb. Though, Caleb supposed Astrid wouldn’t have a reason to expect Beau would be celebrating it - maybe she just saw the opportunity when Beau mentioned the date. Did that mean that she no longer celebrated it herself?

She’d loved Feuersegen when they were in school, and talked about missing it terribly. Trent had discouraged it while they were under his care. It was a rural celebration, as rare as the Zemnian language in Rexxentrum - and celebrating it gave too much away about who they used to be.

They’d celebrated it in secret anyway, and dealt with the punishments when Trent found out. It had been worth it.

“It’s fine. It’s a celebration meant to be shared with family and friends - the more, the merrier.” Caleb tried on a reassuring smile, but from the look on Beau’s face, it didn’t quite fit.

“I’m sorry man, I know how much you were looking forward to celebrating your ‘fewer zagan’ thing. You should be able to celebrate it without your ex making things awkward for you. And also worrying about her looking to sabotage our current investigation into the Cerberus Assembly.”

Caleb tried to find the appropriate reaction. Just accepting Beau’s sympathy felt dishonest. But he couldn’t think of a way to explain his discomfort to her. He hadn’t dreaded the holiday - not really. He’d been swept up in Jester’s enthusiasm at the idea, and it would be nice to be able to celebrate it again. But there was no way he’d be able to celebrate Feuersegen without inviting ghosts. Feuersegen was Blumenthal, and a happy family, and cousins and grandparents filling the home. It was a cold stone floor with a makeshift light display and conjured fire. So the ghosts were to be more literal than he’d imagined. It would be fine.

At least he didn’t have to re-explain everything to Astrid, he thought a little traitorously. The rest of the Nein meant well, but having to explain something that was as much a part of his early life as bread and butter made him feel more foreign than ever. As if he were some strange exotic oddity, when usually their differences could be forgotten. And he still had those memories of his first year in Rexxentrum, of feeling rural and unsophisticated and somehow far from home, though Blumenthal was only a half day’s ride away.

“She might have her plans, but we have Jester,” he managed, finally. Beau allowed for an answering snort, which made him think the matter had dropped. “Thanks for the warning, I will be sure to let Essek know.”

Beau dropped her head into her hands. “Oh man, I didn’t think - do you think she would do anything? I mean, she already knows.”

Caleb shrugged. “Probably not, but I’ll let Essek decide his comfort level.”

The rest of the week passed … fine. There was a little preparation. But as keen as Caleb’s mind was, he had been barely more than a child the last time he celebrated at home. And his memories centered on unhelpful things - the fine dress his mother wore, the house transformed not with decorations but with loved ones, furniture moved to make room for a few extra seats. Other than the candles and the sweets, he finds himself unsure of what else to do.

It was Miresen soon enough. Astrid arrived a full hour early with a tanned and surprisingly happy looking Eadwulf in tow to an otherwise empty home.

“Most of the Nein are coming in from Nicodranas,” Caleb explained as he took a dish of latkes from her. He hoped that they wouldn't ask how the Nein were arriving - he didn’t want to make it too obvious that their last guest was Essek. He had decided to aim for plausible deniability as a comfortable medium. There was a good chance that Astrid and Eadwulf would at least suspect, but Caleb didn’t want to make it too obvious.

“And Beau and her wife did not think to stop by to help, I will hold my shock,” said Astrid. Then, softer “You look good, Bren.”

“So do you. Both of you. The sun agrees with you” he said to Eadwulf, only fishing a little to try and see where he had been.

But Eadwulf only grunted and headed into the kitchen, then looked around. “Someone else bringing the brisket?” he asked, “or are you setting up everything in your tower?”

The brisket. All of his childhood memories were of the sweets, he’d forgotten the main dish. His mother never let him in the kitchen for holidays, he had no idea how to cook it. “I hadn’t planned on the tower tonight - it didn’t - it felt better to set it up in the home.” He paused, trying to think of how to explain the lack of brisket.

But before he could say anything, Astrid stopped him. “No matter, that’s why we’re here. Did you remember the candles, at least?”

“Of course” Caleb said, trying to not sound defensive - even if he did manage to forget the main course of a dinner, he wasn’t completely off. But Astrid had already moved on to solving the problem with a quick sending, then settled in to write on the long dining table Caleb had purchased to seat all of the Nein. Not ten minutes later, a young, harried looking half-orc knocked with a brisket at the door.

“The perks of higher office,” Eadwulf commented from Essek’s chair in the living room, having just settled on a book to read. Astrid, still writing, made a small sound of assent, but instead of getting up and handling the meat herself, summoned her unseen servant to take it to the kitchen.

Caleb wasn’t sure what might be a safe topic of conversation. He didn’t even particularly want a conversation, but he felt like he should be on his guard for a rogue topic of interest to spring up and be ready to head it off at the pass at a moment’s notice. He needn’t have worried. His guests settled in without a word - after a quick perusal of his shelves and helping themselves to his books - and he allowed himself to at least pretend to read until Jester burst in the door.

“Hiii, we’re here! Sorry if we’re a little early, but I had plans I wanted to go over before the… oh, you’re already here,” Jester deflated. Essek, in disguise, took in the room - and Eadwulf sitting in his favorite chair - and started forward before stopping himself.

“Sorry to disappoint you all with our punctuality. Dinner has had a slight delay, but it will be ready in a few hours,” Astrid took in the group with a nod, then paused for only a moment on Essek’s half-elven disguise. She turned to Caleb. “Unless your Krynn colleague has shared with you the secret of hastening cooking times.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve last had a conversation with the Krynn colleague in question, but I don’t believe we’ve ever discussed using those types of magics for cooking.” He’d last talked to him this morning, of course, but it had still been too long. Jester caught on immediately, and broke out into a smile and squeaked before covering her hand with her mouth. Essek had a small smile of his own, just a slight quirk of the lips, and Caleb hoped that Astrid and Eadwulf didn’t recognize it for what it is.

“Hmm, maybe a modified haste spell,” said Eadwulf, sounding like he was giving the idea serious thought.

“I’ve heard rumors of a high level chronurgists being able to make a creature age years in seconds, surely someone has applied that theory to getting dinner ready on time?” Astrid said, a little arch.

“I don’t think that the arcane theorists are likely to make their own food,” Essek’s voice was dry. But then he caught himself, and deliberately stepped forward, shadowhand smooth, and offered his hand. “My apologies, I do not think we’ve been introduced - I am Leorryn. I met the Nein on their travels.”

They’d worked together on his false identity, hopefully crafting something that was just vague enough to be true without arousing suspicion. The name was a variation on one of the archmages from the Calamity. It would be good practice for meeting strangers later. If there was going to be a later.

“Hmm, what you are discussing would be a very high level spell - but perhaps it would take much less arcane power to cast on an object rather than a person, though,” said Caleb. Hopefully he could use the arcane to distract the wizards. Though if Astrid was already taking a chance in mentioning dunamantic spells in front of a possible stranger, chances are she had already guessed who he was.

Besides, modifying Time Ravage would be a very interesting experiment.

“Maybe we should just wait on dinner,” said Caduceus, looking a little uneasy.

“Yeah! I brought the special doughnuts! I had them made myself! I mean, I didn’t make them myself but I talked for soo long with the cooks at the Lavish Chateau and they tried out a couple recipes and I had Caleb taste test them last week and choose his favorite, so I still put a lot of work into them, and they’re really really good. We can just eat those until dinner.”

“They do smell great,” said Fjord, supportively.

There was a little bit of cursing from the doorway, and Beau and Yasha made their appearance by running straight into Kingsley. “Sorry we’re late - we kind of fucked up the first batch of fried crickets, so we had to redo them”.

“Good as ever to see you, Beauregard,” Astrid said, carefully taking a brown lump of fried cricket from the bowl and biting it in half. “These are not too bad. Are they traditional?”

“I usually don’t bother battering them up first,” admitted Yasha.

“Maybe it is time for us to head inside?” Caleb gestured further into the house. The Nein released themselves from the entryway, setting down foods, grabbing drinks from the kitchen, nosily inspecting the area, then coming together to have conversations. Astrid and Eadwulf followed - though Caleb thought that was more the food than the company.

Caleb did his best to circulate. But he was distracted by having so many people in his small space, of the idea of being able to host, that he ended up overhearing snatches of conversations more than anything else.

He’d started off by checking on Essek - worried a little that the drow was anxious that his disguise hadn’t held up. Caleb found him talking quietly to Veth near the front of the house, having reclaimed his favorite armchair. Caleb didn’t risk more than a quick shoulder squeeze, and Essek, for his part, didn’t even break his cadence in conversation.

“I have found that the boiling point of water can be adjusted with the application of graviturgical forces, and can be used to create incredibly warm steam that can cook as fast as a great oven, with a smaller material cost.” Essek glanced over again to make sure that Astrid and Eadwulf were across the room, then gave Caleb a quick smile.

Caleb wondered if the topic of conversation or the affection was more likely to give Essek away.

“Well, what’s the problem?” asked Veth.

“Ah, the release. It has a tendency to explode.” admitted Essek, a little crestfallen. Veth, hearing of something that could be dinner and a weapon, only looked more intrigued.

Essek was shooting even more looks at Astrid and Eadwulf. An excited Veth was one who could often forget about volume. And Caleb’s presence here was probably not helping - Astrid and Eadwulf would probably want to speak to him at some point, or at least keep tabs on him. With another reluctant squeeze of the arm, he stepped away from the conversation and went over to Astrid, who had been cornered by Jester.

“So have you celebrated Feuersegen before?” Astrid was saying as he approached. She caught his eye and sent him an old Volstrucker sign meaning come closer for assistance.

“Nope! Have you ever celebrated Waffle Day?” Jester took another large bite from the sufganiyot, licking a little bit of fruit filling that had escaped. The powdered sugar explosion happened without any attempt at containment.

“I can’t say that I have?” Astrid quietly prestidigitated some of the errant powdered sugar from her clothes.

“Oh I’m so sorry for you! These doughnuts are great and all - we do have something like this in Nicodranas that I like better, but it’s still a pretty good doughnut. But a good waffle that you can put whatever you want on it? The. Best.”

“I would say that there is more to Feuersegen than the sufganiyot,” said Astrid, though Jester didn’t look convinced.

Astrid glanced in his direction, then sent him another sign, one that meant impossible situation, please assist. It felt more than a little mean and patronizing, and just seemed to prove that she needed a little bit more time to have Jester wear her down. And well, she wasn’t going to be paying attention to anything but Jester for the short while, which helped with the Essek situation. Caleb gave her a smile and wave and moved on to where Eadwulf was, nearer to the kitchen.

He had managed to pull Fjord and Kingsley into a conversation, though Kingsley seemed more willing than Fjord.

“My family is from Port Zoon originally, so we didn’t celebrate it growing up. And you?”

“Oh, I’m from all over,” said Kingsley.

“I don’t rightly know. I grew up in an orphanage. My family is dead, most likely.” Fjord was straight faced, and his voice had the same sort of monotone that happened when he was trying to end the conversation as soon as possible.

“Oh wait, that’s a much better answer, can I switch?”

Fjord must have forgotten that Eadwulf’s family was definitely dead - and how they got that way. Kingsley, of course, would have never known. But before Caleb could see how Eadwulf would respond, Beau pulled him into the kitchen. Caleb managed not to yelp at the sudden change of scenery, but it was a close thing.

Caduceus was also there, brewing another cup of tea. The tray of vegetables and hummus that Caleb had prepared as a general appetizer had moved to the counter next to the stovetop. Caduceus was absently munching on it while watching the activity in the dining area through the doorway. He waved hello, then Beau slapped Caleb on the shoulder to get his attention.

He really needed to get weaker friends.

“Hey man, I just wanted to do a quick headspace check. You okay? Anything I can do?”

“My head is fine, though my arm is now smarting a bit,” he said, rubbing his bicep for good measure.

Beau rolled her eyes and continued on, “Jester said that she wasn’t able to go over the plan with you before they arrived.”

“Ja, they arrived early. Was the plan the same as the one for the dinner with Trent?”

“Something like it. Hey, look - we love you, and we want you to have a good time. Anything we can do to help, just let us know.”

“Thank you, Beauregard. I appreciate it.” And he did, though he also didn’t think they could help with this. He couldn’t ask them to be anyone except who they were, or to change the past.

Beau grinned. “Anytime. Now I’ve got to pull Yasha in from outside and make sure she gets some of the fried crickets before they’re all gone. You know, they’re actually really good.”

Caleb watched her exit out the back door, then turned to Caduceus, who had been watching them.

“What do you think?” he asked, and didn’t bother to specify about what.

“I think that you’re better off when you’re not thinking about what this day is. It can get loud out there, and you can always take a break. But all of these people made the choice to celebrate with you. Enjoy that a little.” And with that, Caduceus took his tea in one hand and the vegetable tray in the other and walked back out into the party.

And - the advice didn’t quite fit. Pretending that he wasn’t trying to celebrate Feuersegen - filing off anything that couldn’t easily be explained away - that felt pointless at best and dishonest at worst. But it was true that he hadn’t been too worried about the holiday when he’d been milling around before. Astrid planning something, yes. Eadwulf finally aggravating Fjord enough that he reacted, maybe.But the gathering had felt fine. Maybe he should go out to enjoy it - or at least try some fried crickets.

Besides, Astrid’s unseen servant was coming back to check on the brisket, and Caleb suddenly felt in the way.

Astrid herself was standing near the cricket plate, joined by Eadwulf.

“You know, these are actually kosher,” Astrid was saying. The earnest expression on her face made her look younger. Caleb thought she was actually enjoying herself.

“I think you’re making that up.” Eadwulf mostly looked indulgent, but he had a handful of crickets himself.

“No - it’s because they can swarm and eat entire crops, so Zemnians decided they were safe to eat. And something about the leg placement.” Astrid frowned, and seemingly indicated cricket legs with her hands. Caleb wondered how much she had to drink.

“We don’t know anything about the type of cricket that Yasha used, though,” Caleb said, not able to resist the debate. “Or anything about the batter.”

Astrid clearly had a response lined up, but Eadwulf cut her off before she could start. “Why does it matter? Neither of you have kept kosher the entire time I’ve met you.”

Caleb shifted, just a little, somehow still uncomfortable with the subject, even with them. “I kept kosher at home. Didn’t want to stand out too much at Solstryce - not that way, and then I was on the run, and wasn’t going to have any food restrictions.”

“Do you want to? Now that you can?” Essek asked, coming up behind. Caleb moved out of the way of the cricket bowl and let him take a few.

“Ah, no. Not really,” Caleb said, unable to avoid staring into Essek’s eyes. Essek stared back, just as intense. Caleb knew that if he’d said the word, Essek would help, however he could - and Caleb couldn’t help but wonder how he got so lucky.

They really shouldn’t be doing this right in front of Astrid and Eadwulf.

Astrid cleared her throat, and apparently took pity on him. “Should we start the lighting ceremony?”

“Ah, lighting ceremony? What is entailed?” Essek did his best to look unaffected, but there was still a telltale catch in his voice.

Jester piped up from across the room. “Yeah! Caleb said it was something about being trapped in a cave but his version didn’t make very much sense!”

Caleb didn’t want to think about how much attention she’d been giving him, and what she might have seen between him and Essek. And now they were all paying attention to him.

“I couldn’t get through an explanation without an interruption,” he said, sounding more irritable than he actually was.

In truth, he’d done his best to avoid more than a basic explanation, and let Jester lead the conversation on a merry chase around baked goods. That old discomfort reared its head again - a protectiveness around his past happy memories. And when he imagined the words to describe the holiday, it seemed so small. There were no lavish decorations, no parades or massive displays. It was only a good meal and a few candles without the weight of emotion.

But they were all here to celebrate, and to support him. He could hardly deny them now.

Astrid, ever prepared, looked at Caleb and said, “Well, do you want to lead, or shall I?”

That did make it easier to begin - he’d rather be in control of the story, if it had to be told.

“Long ago, when our forebears had only begun to dust themselves off from their great fall and the afterbirth of the Calamity still stained our lands, a group of Zemnian hunters ran afoul to some night-dwellers,” started Caleb in his best professorial voice.

“What the fuck’s a night dweller?” asked Beau.

“That’s a subject of great debate actually,” Caleb said.

But before he could continue, Eadwulf interrupted with, “Probably a vampire.”

Astrid shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “A vampire makes no sense, perhaps a sorrowsworn?”

“None of the details make real-world sense,” shot back Eadwulf.

“Didn’t you say that you hadn’t grown up celebrating Feuersegen?” Kingsley said, having found a moment to show someone up and deciding to take it.

Eadwulf was as unbothered as usual and shrugged. “My parents didn’t really celebrate it, but I still put a scroll of protection on my gingerbread house. I’ve heard the story enough.”

“A matter of great debate, as I said.” Caleb wrested back control. “Now, the hunting party had only their wits and a handful of supplies. They created a ring of fire to keep the night-dwellers at bay - whatever creatures they were.”

“They had no food nor water, nor any way to find them,” Astrid matched the pitch of the melody that would normally go along with the line. It was only a little sing-song, but Caleb could still hear the rest.

“That’s why you always keep a cleric around,” Eadwulf looked at Caduceus for approval, though Cad’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. Jester, however, preened.

“The only thing that kept the night dwellers at bay was a circle of candles - candles that should have melted down before the end of the long, long night. But the candles were not made to last through the long, long night. And then, one by one, they started to go out,” Caleb said.

Astrid broke in. “Then, one of the hunters, in a fit of desperation, began to sing a lullaby from old Zemniaz, about calling some dancing lights to entertain a baby. And something about the words, the intent, the half crazed belief - the spell worked.” She brought up her own Dancing Lights, unable to resist a little flourish.

“Always thought it sounded more like a sorcerer thing myself,” said Eadwulf.

“There’s a debate about that, too.” Caleb supposed it’d be more difficult to find parts of the story that everyone agreed upon than parts that might be up for debate.

Astrid cleared her throat, and Caleb ceded the floor to her. “The hunter was able to teach the cantrip to their companions, and with it, they survived the night. It is said that those hunters helped return magic to the Zemnians, and with it the hope that they needed to leave the northern shadows and venture into the more fertile farmland. To dream of a better future, one beyond base survival.”

It took a moment for it to be clear that the story was finished. Jester started to clap, and Astrid immediately scowled, but her face cleared into a confused blankness when she seemed to realize that she was being sincere.

“I’m surprised this isn’t celebrated more in Rexxentrum,” said Fjord.

“Rexxentrum welcomes you in, but they clean their house first. When it comes to our past glory - of Zemniaz and the arcane heights we achieved - then by all means, all the Empire will never let any of their subjects forget. But anything that happened after the fall, and what became of those wizards after? Those are stories to be kept in attics, out of sight and hopefully forgotten.” Astrid’s voice barely hid her disdain. It was easy to forget that she, too, had once been a young wizard from Blumenthal, new to the big city.

“You’re the Archmage of Civil Influence, couldn’t you just influence civilians? I know this is promoting a holiday and not murdering people’s families for sedition, but it still seems like your wheelhouse.” said Beau.

“As you well know, Expositor Lionett, the new Queen and King are hoping to lead to a new, more open age - one more outward facing and friendlier to the outside world; with fewer worries of the state knocking at your door for some minor religious infraction. Promotion of such a regional holiday does not fit with the tone of the current administration.” Now she sounded more like her professional self; a sleek pleasantness that reminded Caleb of how Essek was in those early days.

“I’ve been trying to talk her into promoting Winter’s Crest, but she’s not having it yet,” Eadwulf said with a smile.

Astrid only smiled tightly. “Nevertheless, I think it’s time to start, shall we?”

They stood. Caleb had been afraid - against all reason - that he would forget the words. But they came back to them, the rhythm matching Astrid’s, as they lit the ring of lights. There was still the feeling he was performing instead of an unconscious doing, but the feeling was lessened, at least, by another voice with his. He concentrated on the rhythm of the words and the flickering light of the candles, and lost himself in memories of being a small boy, wishing for magic on cold nights.

And it wasn’t like it had been when he was a boy. His family was gone. But he had achieved heights of magical ability that were unimaginable to him when he was young, and had done more than he could have dreamed. Some of the achievements were even good. And the words were the same, even as they blew out the candles, one by one. After the last candle, Caleb cast Dancing Lights again, for that young boy.

It was much later - after the brisket was finally done, and delicious, and the conversation had gone long into the night - that Astrid cornered Caleb for her goodbyes. Eadwulf had left a half hour before, complaining of time differences. Later, Caleb would use that as a clue as to where he had ended up, but the night had been too full for such puzzles, now.

“You should reach out to Alina Krause and Jonas Vogt at Soltryce for next year,” Astrid said, writing the names down on a sheet of paper and handing it to him. “Though I have to warn you Vogt is from Yrossa, they do things differently there. And I trust you’ll keep your eye out for students that might not be able to return home.”

Caleb memorized the names with a glance, but placed the folded sheet of paper in his component pouch for safekeeping. It was a gift, but one with two conspicuous names missing. “And what of you and Eadwulf?”

Astrid smiled tightly. “That is your choice. We may well be enemies by the next holiday, and perhaps your holidays would be more comfortable without us.”

It was true, and even knowing that, it felt like a kindness for her to mention it. “Were you celebrating alone, for all those years? Or did you let it slide?”

“Ah, no, I was celebrating with Vess. She was unavailable this year.” Astrid gave him a look, and Caleb felt a pang of absurd guilt. Despite what half of Rexxentrum believed, he was not guilty of the murder of Vess DeRogna. And even if he had - he could not be sorry for her death, and neither was Astrid.

“You asked Beau for that date on purpose, didn’t you,” he said, partially because it would change the subject and partially because he was curious.

“Do you know why I like Feuersegen so much?” She said, blatantly changing the subject herself. “It’s about hope, and survival through the long dark night. We’ve survived, Bren. Maybe I wanted to celebrate that.”

She patted his shoulder, and for a second he thought she was going to pull him down in for a kiss. For a second, her young face, free of any scars or lines, superimposed itself, and he blinked as she took a step back. Neither of them were what they’d imagined they’d be, but she was right. They had survived.

And with that, she walked out into the lit streets of Rexxentrum, her fine robes leaving a faint trail in the fallen snow.

Chapter Text

Yasha wasn’t good with keeping track of time once the sun went down, but even she could tell that bedtime had hit the worrying stage. She decided it was time to make some soothing tea. By the time Beau came out of Anri’s bedroom, Yasha had started to consider the foot bath, too.

The tea seemed like it was the right choice. Beau took the mug, then collapsed onto the couch and held the mug on her chest, head back, eyes closed, feet on the coffee table in front of her.

“Anri still overexcited from the visit?” Yasha asked, sitting next to her wife and massaging her arm. A half-grown half-orc was still plenty big, and could have a lot of energy.

“Mmph, yeah. That was part of it,” came the muffled reply.

“I know you were worried that TJ would say something to him.” She said that slowly, hoping to prompt Beau to explain, because Yasha felt horribly out of depth trying to guess.

Beau’s feelings of introducing TJ and her mother to their new adoptee were complicated in a way that Yasha didn’t fully understand. A lot of Beau’s feelings about her family and childhood were out of reach for Yasha, but she tried her best to help Beau out anyway. Beau had been worried about Anri meeting TJ. TJ was a good kid, but kids could see and hear things they didn't understand … and TJ had lived with Beau’s dad for years. Anri knew all about bad adults from his own experience, but might not understand bad parents, and neither Beau nor Yasha wanted to explain that to him just yet.

But Beau just rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “Yeah, no - I mean, kind of, but not anything about my father. Nothing that bad. It’s just… TJ told him about the fire princesses.”

“Okay…” Yasha hoped there was an explanation coming in, because she wasn’t sure if this was a pet or something they’d need to kill or something else.

Beau sighed, then sat up and took a sip of the tea. “It’s a thing. In Kamordah. Celebrating the volcano giving warmth and light to the area - kids dress up in fancy robes and get to wear a wreath with candles and walk through the town bearing gifts in a parade.”

“Ah,” Yasha said, as if that explained anything at all.

“And now Anri wants to be a fire princess.” Beau said in the same way Yasha imagined Beau would say ‘Anri wants to take over the Lionett wine business’, or ‘Anri wants a moorbounder’.

“A flame wreath does sound pretty cool.”

“Yeah, and I don’t really have a good reason to say no. I mean other than the Cobalt Soul apparently having the dish that it might have originated as some sort of worship of an evil goth phoenix-god is buried deep within the Cyrios Mountains. But it’s just.” Beau took another sip of tea, set it down, massaged her hand before continuing. “My father made me be a fire princess.”

“Oh,” and suddenly everything did make more sense.

And that confession was all that was required for the flood gates to open. Beau turned towards Yasha, meeting her eyes for the first time in this conversation. “Yeah. And I fucking hated every second of it. There was more - it was about being the best girly girl you can be, and dressing up in bows and it was a status thing, too. And like, if Anri is into that shit, I guess it’s okay, but the one good thing about being shipped out of Kamordah is not having to deal with any of it again. I went years without ever thinking about it.”

“Yeah. That does sound bad.” Yasha paused to think about what to say. “Maybe we could just try to kill that goth phoenix god instead. Or Fjord could pledge service to it?”

Something comforting seemed out of reach, so she tried a joke. Hopefully it came off as a joke. Hopefully it was funny. She was still bad about saying the right thing, but she was trying to get better. Yasha let out a breath when Beau barked a laugh, then got a little worried when she continued to giggle. It hadn’t been that funny.

Beau eventually caught her breath. “Thanks, I think I needed that. At some point you’ve got to stop tripping over different childhood traumas, right? Eventually you run out?”

Yasha shrugged. Jester’s mom had warned them that raising children might open up old wounds, but it hadn’t bothered Yasha. She didn’t really remember being Anri’s age - her time with her original clan. Their murder would probably be considered trauma in and of itself, but she figured she spent enough time trying to untangle the more recent bouts of mind control and whatever was going on with the Dolorav tribe to be worried about the what came before. And avoiding the mistakes of the Skyspear’s parenting seemed obvious for her - just avoid being a cult leader. Yasha didn’t think she’d be a good cult leader even if she tried, and Beau would probably stop her anyhow.

Plus, her runs through the woods while screaming seemed to work just as well for Anri.

“What’d you tell Anri?” She asked Beau, because she can’t think of anything else to say.

“I said I’d think about it. Maybe he’ll forget about it in a day or two and we’ll not have to worry about it ever again?” Beau gave Yasha the smile that Beau thought said ‘I’m cute, ignore the way I’m messing up’, but really meant something closer to ‘I’m cute and need reassurance’.

Yasha usually took Beau’s lead on parenting. But Beau didn’t know what to do, maybe Yasha needed to be the one to figure it out. Oh. This was scary. Is this what it was always like for Beau? She should give her even more credit.

Yasha thought about it. “Anri mostly just wants the cool fire wreath right? Could we just do that for him?”

“He seemed really into the fancy robes part, too. And maybe some nice ribbons in his hair.”

“Okay, well, could we do something with just those parts, and not the weird goth fire bird or weird girliest competition stuff? I’m sure Jester would help us make something for him, and Caleb might help with the fire crown.”

Beau frowned. “Are we getting Caleb and Jester involved?”

“Should we get someone else involved instead?” She tried to think of other people to get involved, but this didn’t seem like a Pumat job.

“I don’t know - it’s a lot to ask them to deal with my shit.” Beau had her arms crossed and seemed to curl further into herself, but Yasha didn’t understand what there was to be ashamed of.

“I don’t see how it’s different from helping Caleb celebrate the holiday he probably associates with the family he killed, and that went off just fine.”

“Oh, shit. We did do that. Huh. I… I never thought of what we were doing that way.” Beau got the look on her face that happened whenever she realized she’d accidentally offended someone. But it didn’t make much sense to Yasha right now, so she ignored it.

“I mean, we can ask and they’re all free to say no if they want. Though I don’t see how this is worse than asking for help defeating an evil sea god or the Cerberus Assembly”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Beau recovered with a hint of a smile.

They get as far as mentioning the idea to Caleb and a visiting Veth and Yeza before Veth called a team meeting for strategy. She’d gotten really into the idea of strategy meetings since she started up her summer camp, something about sports and cooperation.

It wasn’t more than half an hour before they were all in Nicodranas, and another fifteen minutes to end up in Caleb’s tower. Fjord put himself in charge of watching the kids: partially to get out of a planning session, and partially because of Anri, who had imprinted on the fellow half-orc that had saved him from the orphanage and had a tendency to follow three feet behind him in an astonished daze.

It was horribly cute.

At Veth’s instruction, Caleb had built the room of requirement to have a chalkboard, with a chair for Beau at the front, then two rows of chairs for the rest of the Nein. Caleb added the very Dwendalian stone walls and arched windows himself.

“My apologies, the description sounded so much like a lecture hall at the Soltryce that my brain made a connection,” said Caleb sheepishly as Beau and Yasha approached.

Beau walked in, then looked around with a strange expression on her face. “Man, I don’t know. I’m not the teacher here, and the idea of teaching something on this shit feels … weird.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, this is very informal, we’re just going to ask you and Anri a few questions separately.” Veth reassured her, then turned and shouted out the door. “Everyone, get in here, sit down in the next thirty seconds, we are on a schedule!”

“What schedule is that?” Caleb said wryly as he walked by, but he sat down accordingly. Jester and Caduceus also filed in, and Yasha took the seat nearest to the front of the class as moral support for Beau.

Veth stood in front of Beau. “You know, I really should get a whistle,” she muttered to herself. Then, she put two fingers in her mouth and managed an impressively shrill sound on her own.

“Okay, team! We are here today to help out Beauregard with her holiday crisis! Beau here is going to give every single detail she can about her childhood, and then we will need to grill her on it! Now, we’ve defeated a sea god, we’ve defeated a city made of meat, we can handle this! There’s no regional celebration that we can’t recreate if we all work together, so are you with me?”

The Nein looked around at each other, and Veth nodded vigorously. “Yes, we’re with you.” said Yeza.

“A little louder!”

“Yes!” shouted the rest of the Nein, but mostly Jester.

“Good enough! Now, Wildmount on three, Wildout on Six, ready?” This apparently meant that Veth was going to count to three, then they’d all shout Wildmount, then continue counting to six and shout Wildout, but Yasha didn’t get that what they were shouting was going to change, so she shouted Wildmount twice. At least she was slightly faster than Cad, who said “oh” a few seconds after.

What followed reminded Yasha of their planning meetings before taking on Lucien, which meant that Yasha was both very anxious and mostly spacing out. She tried her best to concentrate on Beau and silently lend her moral support. But the actual words slipped by her, and it took all of her willpower to not turn around and see what everyone else was doing.

“There’s these spiced saffron buns - not like hot spicy but like you bite into them and you’re like ‘wow, there’s some fancy spices in here’, spiced,” said Beau.

“Cardamom.” said Caduceus sagely, and Yasha could only guess that he was right.

“And the robes,” prompted Veth “You said the robes were important? Jester, thank you for raising your hand - did you want to say anything?”

“Okay, I know you said they were mostly white with a red sash, but I think it’d be fun if there was like… little red berries, and sparkles, and flames around it, and I can ask Anri what else he wants?” Jester looked at Beau for approval.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” said Beau with a shrug.

Veth wrote Jester’s suggestions on the chalkboard, where it joined ‘FANCY YELLOW S BUNS’ and ‘KILL DESIRAT NEXT YEAR’. Then she turned around. “For the wreath, helping out Yeza has taught me a little bit of alchemy myself - we can make the flames even more exciting - they can spark, and maybe have different colors.”

“Should we make sure that the wreath doesn’t actually catch anything on fire? Like Anri?” said Yeza, looking nervous.

“I, ah, I have a few ideas for that,” said Caleb. And then he went into great detail as to what magic could be used. Yasha didn’t really follow it, but she figured Caleb probably had put a lot of thought into how to keep homes from burning.

Eventually all the questions were asked and orange slices were served, so the group adjourned. Beau made a beeline out of the room using all of her available speed. By the time Yasha made it out, Beau was already on the first floor, talking to Fjord in the atrium.

“… fine. Anri and Luc were practicing how to sneak attack. But Anri keeps on shouting ‘sneak attack and then looking for me for approval, so they’re not too hard to spot’,” Fjord said. He was sitting in a very comfortable looking chair reading what looked like a possible sequel to Tusk Love.

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Beau then shouted up to the balcony, “Anri hon, stop announcing your moves! People can hear you.”

There was some giggling and scuffling on the second floor, but Anri didn’t answer.

“Everything going well?” Fjord closed his book.

Beau shrugged. “Yeah. It’s fine. Jester’s handling the robes, Caduceus is making some buns, everybody’s got a job. Here, I brought you an orange slice.”

“Why, thank you,” Fjord said, taking the orange slice and cupping his hand around it as he took a bite.

“You heading inside? It’s Anri’s turn.”

“No, I think I’ll stay out here.” The orange slice was nearly gone already - any residual juice caught in his hands.

Beau got into her defensive stance - the emotional one, with her arms crossed. Not the one that allowed her to easily catch missiles. “I don’t need babysitting, you know.”

“That’s very true. But I think you might benefit from having a friend - captain to first mate?”

It was then that Yasha became aware of a familiar scuffle of feet, and she turned around and squatted just in time to get an armful of Anri.

“HUG ATTACK!” he shouted. Unfortunately, it was right into her ear. Yasha stood up, holding Anri in place as he swung his legs around her waist.

“Anri, what did I just say about announcing your moves?” Beau shouted from below.

“He waited until after to yell! I told him to!” shouted Luc from a previously unknown location.

“It’s true, he did,” Yasha confirmed.

“You got him?” Beau was craning her neck up to see them both.

“Yeah, I can bring him back.” Yash turned to address Anri’s hair. “We’re going to talk about being a Fire Princess now. Do you want to walk or be carried?”

The top of Anri’s head was still for a second, then he looked up. “Carried,” he said.

Fair enough. Yasha hoisted Anri so he was comfortably on her side, then carried her giggling cargo to the far side of the room. It was only a few minutes before the rest of the Nein returned to the room, and they started the second round of questioning.

This time, Yasha stood by Anri, ready to hold his hand or - shield him, or help him out somehow. Luc took Yasha’s chair. His head barely visible over the table, he offered Anri emotional support in his own way - though his suggestions of explosions and a sneak attack thrown breakfast were gently talked down. It didn’t seem to slow down Anri any, and he talked up a storm about all of the things he’d learned from TJ. Veth dutifully wrote them on the other side of the chalkboard.

Then, there was a week to go, and not much for her to do. The Nein hadn’t wanted to give Beau anything extra to stress out about, but somehow that also stretched, in their mind, to Yasha. That didn’t sit right. She wanted to help as much as the rest of the group, and it wasn’t her trauma they were dealing with. She didn’t want to take any of the jobs that anyone else was given; and she didn’t want to have to hide anything from Beau. Nobody said anything about his hair, though. It had been a while since she’d done more than one or two small, simple plaits near her temple, but she could still braid.

It just happened that Yasha was on bedtime duty the night before … and that Yasha, in all her wisdom, decided not to ask him until then. It somehow seemed bigger than Jester making him a robe or Veth working on the fire wreath or Caleb fireproofing everything.

It was something more about how the Nein were doing all of this to make things easier on Beau, and that was true for Yasha, too. But Yasha wanted to do something for Anri. And this was something Yasha had known from before - and she had wanted to share with her son. It would hurt, a little, if he didn’t want her to do this for him. She wouldn’t blame him, of course - he should be able to choose. But that wouldn’t stop the disappointment.

Mustering all of her courage, she opened the door.

“I’m sleeping!” Anri announced unconvincingly from under the lump in the bed.

“You can be awake a little longer, I just - do you want me to braid your hair tomorrow?” Yasha rubbed Anri’s back through the blankets.

“Like yours?”

“Kind of like mine - the way my tribe used to braid their hair when I was young. I know it’s not the same as what Beau might do for Kamordah, but I don’t think Beau knows how to braid it that way, either.” Yasha wasn’t sure if Kamordans braided hair at all for special occasions. Not braiding hair seemed weird, though.

The lump was still with Anri’s consideration. “I want you to do it.”

She smiled then, love coursing through her, and kissed the top of his head. It would have been okay either way, of course it would have, but she was still glad that she was able to do this for him.

“Okay. But that means you have to get up early, so if you don’t go to sleep soon you’ll be very sleepy tomorrow. Where were we when we last left off?”

“Grumar had made his way through the wastes and was searching for his best friend Shani.”

It was a minor miracle, what with how excited Anri was, but he was out before Grumar had the chance to vanquish the howlers that had stolen his best friend.

Planning on braiding Anri’s hair meant she had to wake up early, too. Beau made a grab for her as Yasha left the bed, and then grunted in disapproval when she let cold air seep under the covers. Anri was somehow unbelievably awake, and had done his best to try to get everything he thought he needed on the bed. Yasha got him to take a seat, fished a comb out from underneath a pillow, and got to work.

It had been years since she’d braided anyone’s hair besides her own - Molly allowed her to braid theirs, from time to time. It felt strange. Anri’s hair fell just above his shoulders and was almost too short to braid in the small woven strips she’d made for the occasion, though she did her best. She decided on a simple braided crown along his head. It would make the wreath sit easier, if nothing else.

“This is what Xhorhas does for Fire Princesses?” Anri asked.

“We didn’t celebrate Fire Princesses in Xhorhas.”

“What days did you celebrate?” Anri said, swerving his head and pulling his hair.

Yasha put her hand on his chin and firmly moved him back into place. “Ah, no - we didn’t - we’d celebrate. A little, but not like specific days. It was more, we got a lot from a hunt, or the weather was turning so we’d be on the move soon so we needed to eat a lot of our stores so we’d have less to carry. Or somebody was getting married or coming of age. We’d do our hair for marriages.”

“Are they coming to visit like TJ?”

“No, they’re all dead.” Yasha said,

Maybe she should have softened that.

Anri didn’t seem to notice. “Were you in the orphanage too? Did Fjord come and save you?”

Her original tribe’s death was simple. The Dolorav tribe - she didn’t have words to explain the Skyspear to him, and what had happened afterwards. Maybe he didn’t have to know that part. It occurred to her suddenly that Anri’s hair was about the length of Zuala’s. Or the length it had been. She’d braided Zuala’s hair this way when they’d gotten married. They never really had the chance to talk about kids - not with all of the hiding. Yasha wondered what she would have made of Anri.

Maybe this was what Jester’s mom was talking about, with children sometimes opening up old wounds. She felt strangely vulnerable now.

“I didn’t meet him until later,” She said, finally. “But yeah, he kind of did. We all saved each other.”

The braiding didn’t take as long as she feared, and then it was time for the beautifully embroidered robes and sash from Jester. They were a little wrinkled from being thrown onto the bed, but Anri still beamed when he looked into the mirror. Caduceus had made the wreath and Veth, the candles. Yasha carefully placed the wreath on Anri’s head - the braids just visible underneath.

“The code word for the magic fireproofing is ‘Una’,” Beau reminded Yasha from the doorway. She had a wicker basket filled with saffron buns and other pastries for Anri. “You ready, bud?”

Anri took one more delighted look in the mirror before nodding and reaching for the sweetroll basket. The first trip down the stairs was the most stressful part, but Anri made his way down carefully, not tripping on his robes even once. It was a good thing that Yeza insisted on fireproofing, though, because Anri’s head was lowered as he concentrated hard on his foot placement on the steps.

“Is this what your fire princess festival was like when you were a kid?” murmured Yasha from the top of the stairs.

“Oh, fuck no. Thank the gods,” Beau said, then went to follow him.

Caleb had set up the tower in their living room the night before - it was easier to house everyone, and much easier to handle cleanup. Yasha worried for a second at the closed tower door, but as Anri approached, it swung open on its own. Beau and Yasha were stepping in themselves just as Anri proudly shouted ‘up!’; a series of cats worriedly followed him to catch the stray pastries that fell. Anri hadn’t quite gotten the handle on holding the basket straight.

One of the cats seemed to be leading him to each door, and one by one, a series of tired-looking members of the Nein made their appearance, took one of the pastries from the basket, and complimented Anri on his robes … and his ability to shout. Then they all made their way down to the dining area for the full breakfast, and Anri sped off to the next door, trailing cats and only a few pastries. Caleb’s magic protection included keeping the wreath on Anri’s head. It meant that the multicolored flames bobbed as he walked.

The kitchen was warm, filled with an amber glow and festooned with holly and lights - friends and family. Sleepy greetings and gratified murmurs for tea and coffee filled the area, and Yasha looked at her wife.

“Not an absolute thing like what it had been when I’d been a kid, and I’m so fucking glad for it” she said, carefully burrowing her way into Yasha’s side as to not spill any coffee. Yasha, out of habit, dropped a kiss into her hair.

And then, Anri, having successfully herded all of the Nein into the room, sensed his time in the spotlight was quickly coming to an end. So he went back to his room and walked down the stairs with an empty basket, then back into the tower, taking the same route to empty rooms as everyone else watched him from below.

In the end, it took three tries and the bribery of a saffron bun to get him to sit down for breakfast.

Chapter Text

Time was important on a ship. Not only using the time efficiently, but keeping track of the days and the hours in order to check the right star charts and stay the course. It was not unusual for people to check the date and time on the ship.

Jester’s reaction, however…

“I FORGOT ABOUT WAFFLE DAY!” she shouted in panic and worry, jumping up and startling Marius from sleep. Admittedly, Marius was still very easily startled.

“Waffle Day?” Fjord asked, though he thought it may be self explanatory. Though perhaps there was a chance that Jester might explain the importance.

“Yeah, it’s the holiday where you eat waffles for dinner with a huge make-your-own waffle setup with a bunch of savory and sweet toppings. It was last week!” She looked so dejected, suddenly, that Fjord felt the impulse to ask Caleb or Essek if they had ever cracked the secret to time travel to fix it.

“That’s a real holiday?” says Kingsley, popping his head in to check what the screaming was about.

“Yes, it’s a real holiday!” Jester forgot her dejection in favor of anger.

“I thought you made it up to try to mess with Astrid,” said Kingsley, unrepentant as he stepped into the cabin.

“Why would I do that?” Jester asked, but Kingsley gave her an unimpressed look. “Okay, I would totally do that, but I didn’t! It’s a very real, very important holiday that me and Mama would celebrate the first of Cuersaar.”

“Did anyone besides you and your mom ever celebrate it?”

Jester stopped moving for a second to think, and that was as good as a no. “Wellll, there was Bluud and the other workers at the Lavish Chateau and, I don’t know - maybe some other people I don’t know about, they could have heard of it.”

Kingsley only looked smug in return. “Not a real holiday.”

“Just because only a couple people celebrated doesn’t make it fake! All holidays are made up by somebody, it’s the celebration that makes them important.” Which didn’t sound quite right to Fjord, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut about such things. “You know, how sailors have holidays when they cross the equator or make their first voyage across the Ludician or see dolphins, those are totally made up but that doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“We’ve never celebrated crossing the equator or seeing dolphins, and I know my first voyage across the Lucidian went with nary a word.” Kingsley pointedly looked at Fjord, in a way that even he could tell meant Kingsley had judged him once again and found him unworthy of captainship.

“You know, I’ve been wondering about that. Captain, why don’t we ever celebrate anything?” said Marius, still looking groggy. He’d retained his ability to speak up at the worst time. Doing so now pushed the focus right where Fjord didn’t want it to be: at himself.

“Didn’t think people actually liked it. It’s not like we’re children,” he said, shrugging.

“You didn’t think people like doing things for fun?” Kingsley said, apparently sensing another thing to be snide about.

Fjord kept himself from crossing his arms or reacting. There was nothing to be ashamed of. “It always seemed a little forced, a lot of work for something that’s over in an instant.”

“People like a day off - gives them something to look forward to, breaks up the monotony,” Kingsley pointed out.

“Well, nobody made me and Mama celebrate anything and we had all sorts of days - and she gets a lot of satisfaction from her work and she’s not the only one if-you-know-what-I-mean - but we still made up our own celebrations.And they mean a lot to us, even if they haven’t been done for hundreds of years because of whatever.”

“Okay okay, I’m sorry for making fun of Doughnut Day.” Kingsley put his hands up, but didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Oh, no, Doughnut Day was a different day, when we’d all get to decorate doughnuts and invite old employees back and make sure everyone was doing okay. There was also Lying Anise, where you couldn’t tell the truth to anyone else who worked in the Chateau or you’d have to chew on aniseed, there’s a day when everyone would swap jobs and I got to be a waiter - that was really fun.” Jester grew quiet, if only for a second. “Mama didn’t really get to have holidays when she was young, and most of the people at the Chateau didn’t either. So they made their own traditions that they all could share.”

Fjord looked at the three in the cabin, and realized that, of all of them, Jester’s made-up holidays were the closest any had to some sort of family tradition. Well, maybe Marius had something. But if he did, he never brought it up and he didn’t really count.

“How’d she convince herself to get started?” Fjord did his bet to make it sound like a normal question that he had no emotional investment in.

“What do you mean?” asked Jester.

Fjord hated the fact that everyone was looking at him. He felt too exposed. But he’d tried to allow for some emotional vulnerability - at least with Jester - so he said, “We didn’t really celebrate anything in the orphanage. Tried to get the hang of it, after, but it always felt like an act. Like I didn’t really know how to do it right.”

It didn’t sound like very much, put that way. But he didn’t think he could go into what it felt like, as a kid, stupidly wishing that his parents would pick him up - or that someone would see him on the street and take pity on him and adopt him. When he was adopted they’d teach about holidays and how to celebrate. He’d kept the wish alive for so much longer than sense should have allowed. And then, when he was finally freed of that awful place, it had felt too late. That it was another thing about him that was forever broken.

Jester’s eyes were still on him, too kind. Like they still saw too much, and she knew him too well. “Well, let’s practice. Let’s create our own holiday! What’s something that’s special?”

“The hundredth day at sea is coming up, we could celebrate that,” Fjord said, a little slowly.

“Noo, I mean special to you.” Jester slapped his shoulder. Fjord was man enough to admit that the slap stung a little.

“I can’t ask the crew to put in work for something that they don’t care about,” he replied. It was weird enough to ask them to do more work for fun at all.

But that didn’t seem to stop Jester, which was something he should have expected. “Well, then, don’t. I’ll do a lot of work and then see if anyone wants to help out.”

“Don’t think they’ll mind if you give them a day off as part of the deal,” Kingsley said, probably just to remind everyone else he was there.

“Okay. The day we stopped the Somnovum and Lucien from coming back from the Astral plane,” Fjord tried.

“That’s eight months away!” Jester’s tail lashed. “Who knows if we’ll even still be sailing that long ahead!”

“Besides, I already claimed it because it’s my birthday, and I don’t feel like sharing.” said Kingsley.

Fjord, of course, had no idea when his birthday was, so he couldn’t even choose that.

“If you don’t think of anything, we can celebrate something random like Jellyfish Day in, oh, I don’t know, a week or so?” Jester offered.

“Jellyfish Day? C’mon, you can think of something better,” said Kingsley.

But Fjord couldn’t, and didn’t particularly feel like explaining to Kingsley what it was about. He was already surprised enough that Jester remembered it - the conversation where everything seemed to shift, ever so slightly, between them. He was never sure how much importance there was in those moments outside of his own head - that fear that, when mentioning it, they’ll reveal how much more he cared than anyone else. It was still possible it was a coincidence, even now. Jester’s find frequently jumped to the most random things.

There were other days he could have celebrated, too - now that the jellyfish suggestion had shown him a possibility. There was the day he cast off U’katoa; the day he discovered a new way forward with Melora; the day he and a certain blue tiefling met on the road; the day - over a year later - that he kissed her. But they were all too personal - sharing them with anyone else was too much to ask of him. Even Jester.

“Shut up, jellyfish are totally cool and light up on their own and even though they don’t even have bones they can totally kill you, which is awesome!” Jester protested, though it was a little forced. Maybe Jester understood this and was making the suggestion to make things easier on him, and he felt a rush of affection towards her.

“Jellyfish it is,” Fjord said, decisively. “The fourteenth of Cuersaar, that would give you all a week to prepare.” As if there was no other reason for him to choose that date. It would be the anniversary of that first jellyfish watch. Fjord couldn’t tell if Jester recognized it or not.

Then Jester decided it would be more fun if he weren’t part of the planning at all. It was tough to keep a secret on a ship - everyone was always up in everyone else’s armpits, sometimes literally. But things kept on being shuffled out of sight when he entered a cabin, whispered conversations happened on the decks, using the sound of the waves and the creaking boards as cover.

He allowed it. Being kept out of the planning was a little frightening, and he still felt the need for control. What if this was some sort of trick, what if the crew had decided he wasn’t good enough and went for a mutiny? But he trusted Jester, and he made himself trust his crew. Even Kingsley, who was definitely participating in some sort of negotiation with the rest of them. He could only hope that it was for the holiday and not an attempted mutiny.

All Fjord had to do was figure out a rota that allowed the ship to operate with a skeleton crew and allowed everyone to have one extra shift off. It would have to happen over the course of three days, but it was doable.

Fjord slept through most of the Jellyfish Day’s daylight hours, waking only an hour before sunset. Jester strongly suggested it, and Fjord had the idea that it was to allow for some last minute preparation to be done in the open. He dutifully ignored any shouts that were coming from the deck, or below the deck. If they wanted to get his attention because of an attack, he was sure that they’d come in screaming his name.

That did mean, however, that when Jester did burst into the captain’s quarters screaming his name, he took it as a sign that they were under attack, and jumped up with Star Razor at the ready. It turned out that she was just excited that, with the sun low on the horizon, it was apparently the perfect time to show off their work.

He had to admit that it was beautiful. The sea at sundown, rich orange and vermilion reflected on the waves. All along the deck there were wax paper jellyfish lanterns, painted with swirls and tentacles curling underneath.

“I told the crew that, in addition to the day off, we’ll be opening up an extra cask of grog for tonight - we’ll have to replenish it at Bisaft Isle,” Kingsley said, coming up behind him. Fjord couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that Kingsley hadn’t thought to suggest it to him, first.

“What do I need to do?” he asked Jester.

She looked at him quizzically. “You don’t need to do anything. Just enjoy it.”

It felt wrong to do nothing, especially on a ship. Ships were in tight quarters, with as few crew and supplies as one could manage without courting disaster, so sailors were always expected to be ready and willing to work. The last time he had been allowed to be completely useless was when he had lost his powers, and even then, it was understood that he was a temporary liability. An old, deep fear - one as old as his memories, with a near-forgotten orphanage master’s voice - reared its head: if he was no longer able to pull his own weight, they’d soon enough be rid of him.

Except who was going to be rid of him, now? Kingsley had long thought him useless even without a holiday, and Jester was the one encouraging him to relax. They’d kept Marius around for over a year now. Orly was at the wheel, lazily keeping tabs on the wind, and up in the crow’s nest, a few more of the crew were keeping watch. If anything happened, he’d be easy enough to find. Maybe he should trust that he was allowed to follow Jester’s instructions and simply be.

And so he did. He stood at the prow of the ship, felt the wind in his hair as he watched the sunset and the waves. He heard the off-key singing of some of the crew accompanying a fiddle, and someone else was asking Marius how he managed to make the ribbon jellyfish tentacles so curly. The smell of salt and smoked pork and grog reached his nostrils. And Jester was next to him, beautiful in the last rays of sunlight.

He cast an illusion of a jellyfish bloom next to the ship, and Jester gasped.

“Fjord, Fjord, look, it’s perfect!” She exclaimed, then saw the smile on his face. She must have guessed that it was an illusion, but her smile only grew wider. “It’s still perfect, you’re getting in the spirit!”

He couldn’t get himself to stop smiling. “I suppose I am.”

She leaned into him, and he put his arms around her shoulders. It was getting dark quickly, the reflection of the sunset on the waves replaced with the reflection of the lanterns on the ship. Jester’s skin was soft and warm under his hand, and he absently rubbed his thumb across his bicep. It was nice to be allowed to have this moment.

After some unknown amount of time, Jester broke the silence. “Do you remember, back when we were on the Ball Eater, and we were on watch? We saw some jellyfish then, too.”

“I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” he said.

Fjord could feel Jester's hair bob as she nodded. “I know it’s not actually important, like the first time we met or the first time you kissed me or the first time I resurrected you from the dead. But that conversation was super important to me, and I wanted, I don’t know. I wanted a reason to remember that. A little. I guess.”

“What was it you said? Something about it not mattering why people celebrate, as much as what it means to them?”

He couldn’t see Jester’s smile from this position, but he still knew that it was there. Her tail movements gave her away. “Yeah, I did say something like that, didn’t I? I’m pretty smart.”

“That conversation meant a lot to me, too.” He said it because it was true, but also because he thought that Jester needed to hear it. That even if he thought she probably knew, it might help to hear it out loud.

“Oh good. It would be pretty awkward if I was making a big deal out of something you didn’t remember or thought was a boring conversation or secretly hated jellyfish or something.”

“I think that it’s safe to say that’s not the case,” he said with a soft smile. He felt the next words form - had them sit in his mouth and his mind silently. They’d been there, in one form or another, for months. But, this was a night for courage, and the lanterns and gentle breeze helped. “If you were inclined, we could… do something to make this date a little more traditional next year.”

“I don’t know…” Jester started, and Fjord’s heart dropped. Of course, he was moving too fast. She wasn’t ready for commitment. “Can we keep the Jellyfish? If we celebrate it again it can be traditional.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking - nevermind. Forget I said anything. Really. It’s lovely. We can do this just the same next year.” He didn’t have it in himself to try again. Maybe in a few years, he could plan it a little better. Maybe he should have tried hints first.

Jester turned around and studied his face in the flickering light, then smiled wide. “FJORD. Were you proposing to me? Under the starlight, surrounded by jellyfish?”

“Yes?”

She furrowed her brows. “Do you have a ring? You didn’t get down on one knee! How was I supposed to realize?”

For a second, he thought about using the ring of fire protection for the engagement, then realized it wouldn’t go over so well. “When we get home to Nicodranas, you can pick out a ring. If you, ah, would want to accept?”

Jester reached her arms around his neck to pull him down into a kiss, which Fjord chose to take as a yes.

It was the best day he could remember. At least, it was until one of the jellyfish lanterns came loose and caught the sails on fire. But they were due for a new ship, anyway.

Chapter Text

Fjord didn’t think very much about having to go to the Wildout Campgrounds for an emergency meeting, he was just glad that they weren’t all trying to squeeze into Veth’s condo again. He wasn’t even surprised that she didn’t specify what the emergency meeting was for. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious … and a little worried. He didn’t think Veth had anything like the Cerberus Assembly or Ukotoa to fight.

He and Jester made their way through the wide fields surrounding the main cabin, shoes crunching on dead grass that had been presumably painted to act as the field for some sort of sport. At least the camp seemed like it was between sessions. There were no kids around except for Luc, who was playing a complicated version of fetch with Nugget. Or maybe that was the issue - had something happened to the camp’s children? Did she need them to act as counselors again? Were the grounds themselves haunted?

If there were any clues, Fjord didn’t notice them. The door to the main cabin opened with an obnoxiously loud creak, and everyone inside - the rest of the Nein, including Kingsley - turned to stare at them.

“Hiii, sorry we’re late! We super lost track of time.” Jester said, waving, then bouncing over to an empty seat. Fjord, noting that the remaining chairs seemed to be closer to Luc’s size than his, chose to squat next to one instead of actually sitting on it.

Veth blew a whistle that was at the end of a button-filled lanyard. It was incredibly shrill and loud and, in Fjord’s mind, completely unnecessary in the small space.

“All right, since the last of us finally showed up, we can begin,” she said. Then she fell silent. Everyone stared at Veth, expectantly. Veth stared back. Outside, Nugget barked at some seagulls.

“Sorry, did I miss you saying what we’re doing?” asked Yasha. She had tried to take one of the tiny seats that had been set up, but it had collapsed under her weight. Still, she sat on the broken pile of wood.

“No. I’m just trying to figure out how to say this,” Veth admitted.

“Do you need more time?” asked Caleb, concern and care evident in his voice. “We would all help you with whatever you need, you know that?”

“Oh! We can all turn around and you can tell it to our backs if it’s super embarrassing,” said Jester.

“It’s not … I don’t … I’m going to call this off,” Veth mumbled.“I’m sorry for getting you all out here for nothing.”

“Veth,” said Yeza softly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Veth mustered some sort of bravery and stood up a little straighter. “I could use your help. We’d have to go to Felderwin the day after tomorrow.”

“Is this the Cerberus Assembly?” asked Caleb.

“Is it a cult?” asked Yasha.

“Is it the syphilis bandits?” asked Jester.

“Why wait until the day after tomorrow, we can go now if we really need to,” pointed out Beau.

“No, it’s the Day of Heart and Hearth,” admitted Veth.

“Wait, no, that was yesterday,” said Beau, clearly confused.

“In Felderwin we celebrate until New Dawn,” explained Yeza.

Yeza looked towards Veth and when it became clear she wasn’t going to explain any more, he picked it up for her. “Luc said something recently about not remembering Felderwin beyond, well, the Kryn invasion, so we thought it would be a good idea to take him back and visit during the holiday season.”

“Right, and you all helped out with Caleb’s holiday thing and Beau’s holiday thing, so I thought it was time for you to help out with my holiday thing. We can do Caduceus next, I guess,” said Veth.

“I’m actually perfectly fine celebrating the day of Heart and Hearth with my family,” said Caduceus, “You’re all invited, if you want to make it out there.”

Fjord, Jester, and Kingsley had been there for that first year, and he’d remembered some strain between the newly reconnected family, but if Kingsley wasn’t going to say anything, neither would he. Maybe that was normal for families.

“Maybe it would make sense to visit during a less, ah, loaded time?” says Caleb

“Yeah, if it’s anything like my Heart and Hearth growing up, it’s a bunch of seething resentments and passive aggressive gift giving.” said Beau.

“Nope, it’s perfect. Any other time, all of the attention would be on me - well, us,” she said, indicating herself, Yeza, and presumably Luc outside, “and this way we can fade into the background with the least amount of attention paid to us.”

Fjord felt Jester about to ask why she didn’t want to spend any time with her family, and put his hand to stop her. “You’d be visiting your family there? You’ve got brothers right?”

“Three brothers: Loro, Marish, and Hoberrt,” says Veth, “Loro’s wife is named Lia, and Hoberrt is married to Latt.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re very close to them. Anything we should know about?” asked Caduceus.

“No, they’re fine. They’re just … small town folk.”

Fjord didn’t really understand what she meant by that, but he was still suspicious of it.

Then Yeza put his arm around Veth and said “I never cared for the way they treated my Veth.”

Everyone was silent for a minute, taking that in. Then Yasha said “Okay. Who do we need to kill?”

Caleb shrugged philosophically and pulled out a small pad to take notes.

“Nobody, we don’t have to kill anybody! I’m going to go back, I’m taking as many of you with you as I can so they can forget that I’m there, I’m going to show Luc Felderwin so he knows what it looks like, and that’s it!”

“… I don’t suppose you can visit Felderwin without them knowing?” Fjord asked.

“No, it’s too small, everybody knows everything. I tried to talk Yeza into going with disguises, but he didn’t think it would work.”

“You know those fake mustaches never stay on your face.” Yeza’s tone suggested that this was a well worn argument.

“If you want, I could use some super fancy magic on all of you?” asked Jester. Fjord could tell that she was making up new personas for the family already.

“No, Yeza’s right. They’d still know. They’re canny with outsiders,” said Veth.

“… all right. The day after tomorrow it is. Anything we should know before we leave?” said Fjord.

“No, I think we covered it. We can walk to my Great-Aunt Kyla’s house which is a couple of hours from the Felderwin town center, we should be fine.”

“… Likes, dislikes, how to behave?” Fjord suggested.

“You know how you had a full battle plan and chalkboard strategies for mine - don’t you want to do the same for yours?” said Beau.

“… Nope! We’re winging it. Just be yourselves. I’m sure it will all go perfectly.” Veth put on a grand smile.

Fjord made a mental note to bring some health potions along, just in case.

The trip from Felderwin’s town center did indeed take a little over an hour. They’d polymorphed into giant eagles to help shorten the trip, but Veth, perched and giving directions from on top a transformed Caleb, would demand that they land whenever they passed a new orange grove, so she could climb the trees to take a few on the road. Fjord, who had grown up with oranges as an impossible extravagance and had learned to think of them as a carefully guarded resource on a ship, instinctively grew fearful that some farmers or guards were going to immediately materialize to chase them away. Never mind that they could take on anyone who did show up. The others didn’t seem to share his fear - not even Caduceus, who simply used his height to stretch up and grab a few, no climbing needed.

He had to admit that the oranges were good - somehow more citrus than he was used to, sweet and sour at the same time. Fjord ate his carefully, making sure not to waste any of the juice.

The polymorph wore off before the travel was finished, but Veth was adamant (to Luc’s disappointment and Yeza’s relief) that they would be better received on foot. It wasn’t long before they came to a small copse of houses, a dozen clustered together among the fields. Great-Aunt Kyla’s house, when they reached it, was modest in size. A covered area extended off one side of the house. Fjord had seen them in Nicodranas to help protect carts from the hot sun, but here a collection of carts were parked alongside the dirt path and the covered area seemed to be made into a makeshift dance floor.

In all fairness, it seemed like there were more of Veth’s family in the house, more in the front yard, and - from the sounds of it - the most raucous game of dominoes that Fjord had ever considered was happening in the back of the house.

“This is your family?” Fjord asked.

Veth looked around. “About half of it. Hmm, wonder who angered who now.”

Fjord’s concept of family was mostly based on his fellow sailors - who are not known for their extensive ties to large numbers of people on land - and the rest of the Nein. His concept of a large family was the Clays, with seven of them all in one home. This was dozens. And if the next few moments were suggestive of anything, he would be expected to greet each of them individually. A few people came out of the house, Veth said his name, they all said theirs, and they dragged him from group to group. Names and relations were shouted in quick succession as there were hugs, quick kisses, handshakes, and in the case of the very intense domino players, a brief nod and moment of silence before they lapsed back into their argument in Halfling.

“They’ve been playing against each other for forty years; you’d think they’d at least agree on the rules by now,” said Yeza, a little grumpily.

Fjord, for his part, did his best to reciprocate whatever greeting was given to him, kneeling down to allow for the halflings to have better access. Yasha and Caduceus were of no such help, and the Felderwin halflings ended up craning their heads up and miming kisses from three feet away.

From somewhere within the whirling conversations, he heard his name.

“Fjord would be great at it - he’s so big and strong and imposing.”

It was Veth; talking to her … aunt? Cousin? Fjord couldn’t remember which. A middle aged but very elegant looking halfling, at any rate. He was immediately suspicious, but quickly remembered why they were in town in the first place. It wouldn’t do to get into an argument in front of her family.

“I’ll do my best to be of help in any way I can,” he said with his most grandma-pleasing smile.

The look that Veth gave him made him even more suspicious. But he allowed himself to be led over to one of the carts parked in the front of the house. Covered by a blanket were a half dozen bottles of thick, cream-colored liquid, stored in large glass bottles with the label ‘Brenatto’s sweetened carbonated water’ mostly ripped off.

“Here’s the deal - keep the kids away from the coquito and if anyone comes outside for a refill, make sure they take from these bottles, not from any other ones.”

“How can I tell if someone is old enough to have coquito?”

“It’s just Cyril, little Kyla, and Orla you have to worry about. If it’s Da’nee or Beyna, you can let them have some, but make sure they feel like they’re getting away with something.”

Fjord stared blankly at her.

The woman shrugged. “If they’re tall enough, it’s probably fine.”

She craned her neck up at Fjord.

“I mean, taller than yeah high.” She indicated a height that was at the Fjord’s mid-thigh instead of his hip. “The second part is more important - nobody else’s coquito - they have mine.”

And then she walked away, leaving Fjord to watch the party at a distance. It was strange - looking from here, this would have been the sort of family that he would have wanted as a kid. There was shouting, sure - but people smiling and laughing, some kids running around the cartport. Even the domino arguments looked … comfortable. Lived-in. It was a sense of permanency that Fjord would have loved, once upon a time, when everything seemed like it could be upended in a second.

He didn’t doubt that Veth had her reasons, but he somehow expected that Felderwin be staid, a little stuffy. More like the Lionett estate. Veth’s problems would be that she was too brash. But from the sounds of the party spilling out, it was difficult to imagine that to be the case.

There was another halfling with a half dozen bottles of coquito next to him. This one was slightly younger than the first. Fjord had started to categorize the attendees based on how much they resembled Veth, and this one was further out on the spectrum - possibly an in-law?

“I’m sorry, but I’m supposed to be guarding this coquito - unless that’s the stuff that’s supposed to be given to children?” Fjord explained.

The halfling snorted.

“That Vyn’ee’s batch?”

Fjord stared blankly.

“Veth’s aunt?”

Fjord thought about pretending he knew the answer.

“Light skin, badly bleached hair in curls, wearing a green dress?”

“Oh yes, that was the one.”

“I’m Veth’s Sister-in-law, Lia. And trust me, Veth wants you to be handing my stuff out.,” Lia said, and Fjord still looked unconvinced. “You see, Vyn is from Felderwin Tillage, so she gets her rum from Revvetha’s distillery. Not our Veth, Revvetha Ardi. Meanwhile, me, and Veth, and half the people here are from Felderwin proper, so we go to Dawn Coo’s - much better.”

“I was told…”

“Look, just take the coquito, and if anyone needs a refill, use mine first. She won’t know if you don’t take hers, but I will.” Lia looked like she was willing to make good on that threat, though Fjord really didn’t understand how. The bottles that Lia handed over looked exactly like the ones that Vyn’ee had put under his protection - down to the ripped up labels from Brenatto’s apothecary.

Suddenly, Fjord understood why Veth had given him this job. There was no winning. And it was a way to make him miss the party, have him watch it from the outside. In truth, when someone came out to the cart for a refill, he ended up giving them a bottle at random. Then spent the hours trying to block out the sounds coming from the house and stared off into the groves, trying to enjoy the sunset.

“You could go inside if you want.” Yasha appeared next to him. He must be more out of it than he realized if Yasha was able to sneak up on him, some sort of wiry mutt following behind her.

“I was supposed to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I need a break. Plus, there’s a dog out here, and I’ve been told he can’t come inside.” Yasha broke off some jerky and fed it to the dog - which explained how she had gotten her companion.

“The noise that bad?”

“It’s a lot of reminders of how things were with the Dolorav tribe,” Yasha said, then quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on killing anyone here.”

“… how are they like your tribe?”

Yasha went quiet, and Fjord let the silence stretch, the sounds of the party filling the background.

“You’re with people, and you’ve got to depend on them, and you can’t just go out on your own. So conflict’s bad. Which makes being like everyone else good - and that makes standing out bad. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“Like being on a ship, I suppose.” Fjord mused.

“Probably, but with less choice in when you get on. And you’re good at being someone else. Not all of us are.”

Fjord thought about filing his tusks down, and all of the other ways he had worked so hard to fit in. How he’d gotten so good at imitating accents at a young age because it was easier to be a mirror to everyone else than to risk being himself. The implicit idea that being like everyone else was the best chance he had at survival. And then he thought about how, no matter what they tried, Veth and Yasha’s personalities seemed to shine through.

“Where is Veth at now?”

“I think she wandered back into the orchard groves a while ago. She’s right, the party’s so big, it’s easy to have everyone think you’re in the other room,” said Yasha.

Only Veth hadn’t been back to Felderwin - as herself - in a decade. The lack of care seemed odd, even to him. Had they known she was alive?

“Anyone else sneak out, too?” Fjord asked.

“I think Beau figured out which kid had the most overprotective parent and snuck out with them to teach them how to pick locks. I wonder if that’s why she packed fireworks.”

“Well, take care.” Fjord went to pet the wiry dog, but it backed away from his hand, so he rescinded the offer and wandered in the direction of the party.

The house was open enough that there wasn’t a wall of sound when he entered, but it was markedly warmer that outdoors, and smelled of fried foods and alcohol. The roof was uncomfortably close to his head, but at least it made it easy to find Jester and Caleb in the crowd. He grabbed a drink from the makeshift bar and made his way over to them.

Jester, for her part, was talking animatedly to Veth’s … cousin? And brother? Maybe? A man and a woman, at any rate. Caleb, who was standing behind Jester and watching nearby, would remember. Maybe Fjord could get the information out of him without it being obvious.

The male halfling - who was definitely related to Veth, he looked like her - had a greasy smile on his face as Fjord approached. “You must be one of Veth’s other … friends. And what is it you do?”

“I own a shipping company - A Stone’s Throw. It runs out of Nicodranas,” Fjord said, trying to sound as respectable as he could.

For his part, the male halfling looked a little appreciative. His female companion still looked a little dubious.

“Don’t you worry about leaving your little miss on the shores while you’re gone?” She said, and Fjord took a moment to realize that she had meant Jester.

“Oh no, I’m with him on most of the trips! Sometimes I’ll want to paint and catch up with Mamma, but most of the time it’s a lot more fun on the seas,” Jester said.

At this, Probably-Veth’s-Cousin whispered something to Probably-Veth’s-Brother, then stifled some giggling. Caleb frowned, and Fjord tried his best to signal ‘who are these people and what’s going on’ to him.

“And does she help with the shipping company with the help of this traveler?” said Probably-Veth’s Brother.

“Having a powerful cleric like Jester is a great help on the seas - she is a wonderful healer and uses her powers to help mend the ship and bring fresh food and water, Talyi and Hoberrt.” Caleb made sure to enunciate the last part clearly - whether this was to help out Fjord or to attempt to hide his irritation, Fjord couldn’t say.

“I’m sure having all of those waffle and pastry holidays is also a wonderful help,” said Hoberrt.

Jester frowned, realizing that she was being patronized. “You just told me that you celebrate three wise guys who brought some useless gifts a couple hundred years ago by putting hay in your shoes.”

“Oh no, the hay is for the donkeys,” said Talyi.

“Aren’t you worried the donkeys will eat the shoes?” asked Jester.

Hoberrt smirked and laughed. “They’re not real donkeys, of course. It’s something that we tell children.”

“Well, the Traveler is very real, and also real cool. If you want, I’m sure he would come, he really enjoys a good party.” Jester said a little loudly.

“Ah, maybe we shouldn’t summon him at this time?” Caleb said, looking a little worried.

Fjord remembered, suddenly, that they were in the midst of the Dwendalian Empire - a place with strict laws about worshiping unapproved gods, and that they were surrounded by the sort of folks that would be scandalized by that sort of thing.

Talyi whispered something else to Hoberrt. This time, Fjord thought he could hear Veth’s name in the middle of it, and Caleb snapped.

“Hallo. I understand that you are both teachers?” Caleb said, oddly calm.

“Yes, at the local primary school,” said Talyi.

“I am a teacher at the famed Soltryce Academy and a very accomplished wizard. Veth is one of my pupils, the best I have ever had the hope of teaching.”

“Veth? What does she use it for, button collecting?” Hoberrt said, and Talyi laughed.

“Among other things. She would be willing to show you, should you wish.” Caleb remained unamused. “The magic also means we can also all understand you. We are all being polite.”

Hoberrt went a little paler, but Talyi just screwed her mouth, as if she thought them being able to listen in was far more rude than she could manage to be. Fjord wondered why she thought they’d need the aid of magic - in truth, Fjord had missed the specifics of everything they’ve said, but got the jist of it just fine.

“We also understand how supportive you’ve been to Veth, these last few years. And before.”

“She could have come back here at any time, and she didn’t,” snapped Hoberrt.

“Or how much support you leant to Yeza, when he was raising your nephew alone,” Caleb continued, raising his voice to be heard over Hoberrt.

Talyi and Hoberrt’s eyes went to where Yeza was apparently idling in the corner, talking to a very old woman. Even above the din in the room, Caleb would have been audible - and Fjord thought he saw Yeza’s ears go red.

“He didn’t need our help - always thought he was smarter than the rest of us,” said Hoberrt. Which Fjord thought was a strange thing for a teacher to say.

The look that Caleb gave him could have frozen Rumblecusp. For his part, Hoberrt chose to look away.

Caleb’s naked admiration and love was uncomfortable, but it did the trick. It would have only worked from Caleb, Fjord thought. Caleb was from a different part of the Empire, sure, but he was still Dwendalian - and had the sort of prestige that the Smyt’hhs seemed to understand. Beau could have gotten away with it, perhaps - if Beau was the sort who would ever attempt such a thing.

But even with that, Hoberrt and Talyi’s embarrassment only lasted a moment, before Talyi cleared her throat and said, “It’s a family matter, and none of your business.”

They were all silent for a moment.

“I am sorry, I find myself in need of fresh air,” Caleb muttered.

“Oh, we should be going too, for reasons?” Jester said, looking for Fjord for backup.

“Oh yes, we should really check up on, ah, Caduceus. He gets so lonesome on his own.” The excuse didn’t hold much water, but nobody was going to object to seeing the end of them, either.

They pushed their way through the crowd and went out the back door.

“Thanks - I slipped a couple of oops stones into his back pocket, and I really didn’t want to be inside when they went off,” Jester said, once they were far enough from the door.

And sure enough, only half a minute after they made it outdoors, a cursing wave of people spilled out onto the lawn.

The sun had set over the western hills. The air, though still well above freezing, was starting to chill. but there was a large bonfire lit in the back for warmth. Singing and drums spilled out from the cartport, and it looked like the game of dominoes still continued on by lamplight.

Luc was talking to one of the domino players, the one that Veth had said was her father - though, come to think of it, he hadn’t reacted much to her presence.

“You have a favorite uncle already? Which one is it?” Tra’vis was saying to Luc. “Is it Loro here?”

And, as if rehearsed, Luc walked over to Caduceus and took his finger.

“He makes the best fart jokes,” Luc said solemnly - and then Fjord knew that Cad and Luc had planned it.

“It’s great to meet you,” Caduceus reached out a hand to Veth’s father. From their current angle, Fjord couldn’t see Veth’s father’s face, and Caduceus’ expression didn’t betray anything.

There was a suspicious laughter coming from the eaves, and Fjord followed Jester’s gaze to be able to see Veth on the rooftop, watching the proceedings.

Suddenly, it seemed unfair to Fjord that they weren’t able to do more. They’d all come to help out, but no amount of tricks or shaming speeches could make her family better people. The Nein were here for her, she should be allowed to do more than disappear. He looked at Jester, wondering how he could bring this up to her - if they could come up with some sort of solution together.

Jester, for her part, seemed to be one step ahead of him. “Oh Fjord, I would love to dance right now, if only I had a partner,” she said, motioning for him to refuse.

“Oh Jester, I am sorry to let you down. I am too sickly and weak to keep up with you. If only I had another friend who would take my place,” Fjord said, loudly and without inflection.

There was a small thump as Veth jumped to the ground and took Jester’s hand. “All right, two songs. Las Parrandas should be starting soon, anyway.”

“What would that be?” asked Fjord as they headed towards the cartport.

“It’s just caroling, you can figure it out,” said Veth.

Veth’s timing was about correct, but her descriptions continued to be a little lacking. Fjord’s first clue should have been when he looked around for Yeza and found him in the now-empty house with a lit lamp and a book.

“I think I’ll skip it this year, get some reading done,” Yeza said.

“In here?” The smell had mostly dissipated… but it was still noticeable, and enough to keep everyone else out.

Yeza smiled. “Part of being an apothecary is getting used to strong smells. Being Luc’s father helps, too. Thank Jester for that, by the way. It’s hard to find some space any other way.”

Still, Fjord failed to anticipate the sheer amount of noise that came with the caroling - a raucous, drunken crowd utterly failing at keeping a tune, much less a harmony. Veth, for her part, joined in as much as everyone else, and nobody seemed to judge her lack of skill.

“Good job illusioning up a whole horn section,” said Beau, pointing in the direction of three trumpets and a few guitars.

“I didn’t … I think they just appeared?” Fjord said. Maybe it was Jester’s work, but none of the members of the band were unicorns.

“The band is just my cousins, they’re coming with. Makes it easier to wake everyone up.” said Veth.

“Oh wait, is that the goal?” said Jester, and then she used Thaumaturgy to open all of the windows. There was a resounding crack and a few shouts, and that seemed to be the last step that was needed to make the then-sleeping family rush outside.

“Come in, come in!” they yelled, thankfully not worried about the spells being cast on their property or the precedent being set.

Then, the mob swarmed the house, with more drinking and dancing, until it was determined that it was time to move on once more. This lasted through the night, only stopping near dawn. Caleb summoned the tower on the lawn of the last house and led the Nein inside. When they roused much later that morning - their shoes were found without a speck of hay in them. Veth quickly rounded up the party, a well-rested Yeza by her side.

“Come on, come on, it’s time to go,” she said.

“You don’t want to say goodbye to anyone?” asked Caleb.

“No, I’m good.”

Caleb looked, then shrugged. “All right. I can take Beau, Yasha, and Caduceus if you take the Nicodranas portion?” he said to Jester.

“Why thanks, but I can have my own ride home,” said Caduceus, and he quickly cast Word of Recall to prove it.

Jester quickly followed suit, and the Brenattos, Fjord, and Jester all found themselves in Jester’s old bedroom. Luc immediately took off to say hello to Bluud.

“Thank you. You all helped.” Veth said, somewhat unexpectedly.

Veth was so rarely sincere that Fjord didn’t really know how to respond.

“So, same time next year?” Fjord was joking, but he’d be willing, if she needed to.

“Maybe in five, or ten, or never again,” said Yeza, sounding angrier than Fjord had thought him capable of being.

Veth smiled wide. “Yeah. That was the best Home and Hearth festival I’ve ever been to - let’s never do it again.”

Chapter Text

The Nein arrived, as was customary for honored guests of the court, early on the third day of festivities. The other four days’ worth of celebrations were far more intimate even within the Dens - and logistically complicated. There was always a great deal of discussion about which merchants to patronize, on which dates the consecuted would visit their previous families, and what they all would be seen wearing to the temples. For the common folk, it was common for them to forgo anything but the briefest observance for the other days - Essek supposed it must be difficult for them to rearrange five days of work for a holiday only announced a few weeks in advance.

But the third day’s celebrations were always the largest, the most public and extravagant, and therefore the ones that the rare visiting dignitaries would be invited to witness. The Nein were instructed to teleport in a few hours before the morning’s celebrations. Even that was cutting it close - as foreigners, there was more security to get through, and they required more of an explanation of what behavior was expected of them.

But in truth, the Nein would be kept far away from the Bright Queen, and consecution removed some of the efficacy of assassination attempts. Essek assumed the security around the local beacon had been improved since his time, though it’s not like he would have any way of knowing.

As for an explanation of expected behavior, well, perhaps the Kryn court had finally given up on expecting the Nein to behave in any orderly fashion.

Verin had managed to be assigned as their escort - whether or not he considered it an annoyance or a privilege, Essek couldn’t tell. He faced his brother in the flesh for the first time in years and tried to determine if there were any discrepancies with his memory, whether due to a lapse of the mind or some change in the intervening years. He seemed more formal than Essek had expected, somehow more serious even as he smiled and joked through the security briefing. Essek wasn’t sure if it was time or simply the fact that his brother wasn’t interacting with him. Verin always said that he had no choice but to act the fool - Essek hoarded all of the solemnity.

Essek had used magic to disguise himself as an aasimar - and then more magic to make the previous magic difficult to detect. It was not foolproof by any means, but it was sufficient for the expected amount of security. After all, the Nein had brought other members with them - Caduceus had brought his youngest sister, Veth had brought Luc (Yeza had, understandably, opted to stay at home), and Kingsley had brought himself. The dossier on the Nein did note that they had an aasimar ally, and Reani was so amused by the idea that he would be impersonating her that she agreed at once.

He was thankful to all of them - for the sacrifices, and the risks that they’d been willing to take. To let him see his country one last time, if through foreign eyes.

Verin was going over the day’s schedule - apparently pointing out a time in the mid-afternoon where it would be a good idea to take a nap - “It’s just a bunch of chanting and singing, and the first couple of hours of chanting and singing would probably be enough,” he said with a practiced but somewhat mischievous smile.

It was all that Essek could do to not say anything - people did leave the ceremony early, but it was taken by the Dens as a sign of impiety and mild scandal. It was to the point where some Den members would hire stand-ins so their absence would avoid notice. Though, he supposed, there was no reason for the Nein to pretend at devotion.

Soon enough, it was time for them to take their place in the Den Thelyss’s viewing tower, one of twelve that overlooked the open air dias below. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people had already lined up in the plaza below the dias to get a good view. Meanwhile, his former Den was showing their amount of favor by placing the Nein in the second-highest box - just high enough that they would still be visible for everyone else. A dozen chairs were laid out in rows with refreshments, and Essek was sure to take the one furthest from Verin.

The highest box, the Umavi’s, was typically empty, as she would be on the dias. Also, the view was horrible and there were even more flights of stairs that nobody wanted to climb.

It had been years since he’d been able to watch the ceremony this way, having long taken his place on the dais years ago. In return for the proximity of power and the small amount of prestige that came with being one of the faces on center stage, he had spent the last decade seeing the backs of everyone’s heads and missing every other word of their speeches. The spectator’s view made him remember what it had been like before - when he was young and his father was still alive. Back when he’d believed in the majesty of it all.

The chanting started in darkness - from all around the central plaza, as echoes and illusions were dispatched to ensure that all would be able to experience and know. Verin started to translate for the Nein, but then Beau cut in with her version.

“Lloth sucked, some drow figured out that Lloth sucked, but Llolth didn’t like that so they got ran out and wandered the underdark alone.”

To which Verin shrugged and said, “close enough”.

And then, the court’s chronurgists began to manipulate the enchantment that changed the sky over Rosohna, moving the night sky to dawn - a sliver of light from over the high towers, carefully placed to just hit Leylas Kryn, dressed in what seemed to be rags of black and purple (it would be delicately woven lace with artful tears up close), as she picked up a glinting beacon to symbolize the Luxon’s first discovery. As she picked it up, her robes changed to shimmering white and silver, diamonds in her robes reflecting the rosy dawn’s light. She stood there as the singing grew and reached a crescendo, the crowd gasping and cheering and joining in with the singing, an overwhelming din that echoed through the plaza and slowly, slowly tapered off as Leylas lowered the beacon.

The beacon would be glass, Essek knew, the real beacon safely hidden. Most people only saw the replicas as their local temple, and wouldn’t be able to tell the difference even if they were close enough to see the details. He knew that Leylas’s robes were a mummer’s quickchange, not even magic. And yet, it was still difficult to not sing along with the crowd, to not be carried away by the euphoria. Essek stared ahead and willed himself to not react. He did not look to see how any of the rest of the Nein were reacting, either - he wasn’t sure if it would be worse if they were entranced or bored.

“What do you do if it rains? Or if it’s super cloudy?” asked Jester, interrupting his thoughts.

“They check the weather before announcing the holiday - it’s usually around this time of year, but the day itself is a little more, ah, variable.” says Verin.

If it took too long, they’d get storm sorcerers or druids involved to clear the weather. It was an open secret at court. As Shadowhand, it had been yet another trivial task that had, for some reason, fallen under his jurisdiction and annoyed him to no end.

It was, of course, based on the weather in Rosohna - clerics in Asarius and Jigow would determine their own timing, and the rest would typically align to whoever is closest, even if it meant a cloudy sky. The last time before his exile, in Eiselcross, he forgot that they were far enough away to not bother to synchronize with anyone, and was startled out of sleep when his brother messaged him.

It was always dark that time of year in Eiselcross, the sun only managing a weak attempt at light, low on the horizon. They’d lit a few more lamps than usual, maybe, but the holiday mostly went unnoticed.

The cheers from the beacon reveal having long since died down, Leylas Kryn was now giving her annual speech. Essek looked around at the rest - Caleb paying attention, Jester and Veth whispering to each other, Beau trying her best to look like she’s not paying attention but glancing out to the speaker - and his brother, staring right at him, a strange and considering look on his face.

It wouldn’t do to let his brother recognize him. Not now, not like this. But it still hurt to have Verin so close, yet still not be able to talk to him.

Essek quickly turned his attention to the speech. It was over soon enough - he supposed the good thing about having to give a speech for centuries is that you know to make it short. The end of the speech was punctuated by the court chronurgists moving the sky’s illusion to noon, the sun now beating overhead.

It had taken Essek a few months of living under sunlight to realize how strange the sun’s movements were for the light day celebration - changing the time of the illusion by cue, the light created to hit certain marks, then staying that way until the next one. It seemed to him that natural sunlight moved at a human’s speed, ever changing.

Below, the stage cleared for the reenactment. This year, the subject was of the most recent war - told through acrobatics, dance, and a few quickly penned songs that would be heard in the taverns for the next year. Essek was glad that the beacon theft was only shown to be by a nefarious figure, all in black, that snuck across the stage with black wisps trailing - not even deserving of its own lyrics. The assault on the Dwendalian Tri-Spires was shown on aerial silks - acrobats climbing and falling with some graviturgical assistance, throwing brightly colored scarves as spells. Then, an echo knight fell, and entrusted the beacon to the Nein to keep it safe.

“Seems like they missed the pissing onto a helmet,” mentioned Beau.

“Not sure if they can show that sort of thing on the stage here. Can they?” Caduceus turned to Verin, as if this was a sensible question to ask.

“What,” said Verin, laughing a little with disbelief.

“We had, ah, some difficulties with communication and had to get inventive,” said Caleb. Verin nodded his head slowly with his eyebrows still raised.

Jester hushed them, as onstage the Nein made their perilous but very straightforward trek from Zadash to Felderwin, where a moving ghazal revealed that Nott’s husband had defected willingly to the Kryn in the hopes of being reunited with his goblin wife.

“Oh, they thought you were Kryn,” said Yasha.

“Well, we don’t see very many Dwendalian goblins - wait, you’re the goblin? How’d that work?” Verin said, checking his dossier on the Nein and peering at Veth.

“I think it’s a good thing that Yeza stayed home,” Caleb said, nudging Veth. She managed a small nod, her face frozen.

“Wait, they didn’t even allude to the pirates!” complained Jester.

Onstage, the troupe had found their way into the Bright Queen’s court. The staged Nein’s entrance was far less … chaotic than it had been in real life. The performers all wore hoods, masks, and makeup to help them with the sunlight, but they also wore a lot more clothes than Essek remembered. The half-drow playing Caleb still gave an impassioned speech, but it involved far more praise of the Luxon and strength of purpose than he’d remembered. Nott, played by a goblin, had her own refrain, where she asked for her husband.

Essek looked at Luc, but he seemed enraptured in the strange story.

“Do you think he realizes what this is based off of?” Essek whispered to Veth.

“I sure hope not,” Veth whispered back.

From there, the Nein largely disappeared from the narrative - there was another exciting battle, the wizard Allura, and a gracious apology from the Dwendalian empire. The story did not swerve any closer to the truth, but the lack of personal offense limited the commentary.

True to his word earlier in the day, the second the devotional section started, Verin suggested a break. Essek ignored him, listening and watching the crowd below as they spoke and sang in perfect unison. The sheer numbers created their own harmonies, smoothed off any jagged edges. It was hard to not be carried by the euphoria - the mix of beauty and pain that only added to the awe. He didn’t understand when he was young that the ritual was the point; gilding covering a hollow core.

He still remembered after all this time - less the feeling of belief as much as the want - the anticipation of someday understanding, knowing, fitting in. And he knew better now, but he still missed the hope inherent in it, sometimes.

He was not sure if he resented the others - those that still believed, or at least were unbothered by the lie. He wondered how many of them pretended piety because it got them something they wanted more - power, or access, or acceptance. He wondered how different he would have to be to be one of them.

“Come, we are all heading down to see the sights,” Caleb said, squeezing Essek’s shoulder. Everyone else had left their box for the stairs.

Everything below was filled with color and light. The brightly colored sand patterns in front of homes, held in place with dunamancy - the street vendors selling flowers; the pieces of glass brought out to catch the sun and mirror it; others breaking up its rays into colored rainbows. Essek had gotten much more used to sunlight in recent years, even the sunlight in Nicodranas, and here it was still blinding.

He’d never wandered the markets during the Light Day celebration; he had never dared to leave the main ceremonies early, and had retreated to his own towers afterwards. It had always been his preference to watch the displays from on high. If asked, he would say he liked the ability to watch the entire city erupt in fireworks; from the larger Den displays to the block-coordinated events in the Coronas. In truth, he enjoyed being farther away from the loud deafening sounds and haze - from the holiday’s false promises of community and acceptance.

The devotions must have just completed; the sky turned from the blistering noonday sun to the last rays of sunset. Beau blinked and nearly tripped at abrupt change.

“Yeah, I hear that it’s strange if you aren’t used to it,” Verin smiled in sympathy. “It’ll be sunset for about half an hour for the Bright Queen’s procession back to the palace, then back to the usual sunless sky.”

“I would have thought they’d just take down the darkness shroud, or whatever it is, not just mess with time,” said Beau.

“I couldn’t explain it to you, but apparently it’s easier to do it this way,” Verin said, noncommittally. “Besides, most residents don’t really recognize the difference.”

Essek had to keep himself from explaining - it was easier to change the time it portrayed rather than dispel the enchantment and recast it. There would be no reason for an aasimar to know. And he was a little embarrassed at being one of those who would not have internalized how strange it would be to go suddenly from high noon to sunset.

Verin’s eyes were on him again. Essek did his best to look interested in the surroundings. He let the rest of the group go ahead, just a little. With the dimming light, families were beginning to light the floating lanterns and small lamps in front of their homes, the smell of pakoda frying in the air. The street vendors - those that had not already sold out - were competing for one last sale. Children were waving sparklers; someone gave one to Luc, and Jester created her own.

The ruse didn’t work. Verin waited for Essek to pass him, then sidled up.

“What do you think of the festivities?” he asked, showing the right amount of concern as a good host.

“They are very engaging. I do not believe I’ve seen anything like this in the Greying Wildlands. That is where I’m from,” Essek said, to waylay any suspicion that he might be anyone but the aasimar friend of the Nein.

“I’m glad to hear that! You know, it’s funny - Essek would have complained about how the local merchants were angry that foreigners were cashing in on our holiday, the Luxon clerics were angry that the local merchants wanted profits over piety, and the foreign merchants thought the taxes were too high.”

That… sounded familiar. And a petty argument that he’d forgotten about in the intervening years. He didn’t relish the memory. Essek made a vague noise of agreement and hoped that Verin would accept that as a response.

“Do you know Essek? I’m his brother,” said Essek’s brother. To Essek.

“We have met.”

Keep it short and simple, Caleb had said. Vague, and allow the other person to fill in the rest of the details. He’d never been good at lying to people he cared about, and Verin knew all of his tells.

“Do you want to hear embarrassing stories about him? I can provide - there was this one time, with some jam. And he was, like, seventy, before he realized,” Verin said, laughing all along.

Essek had not been not nearly seventy before he realized. He had known right away. He was nearly seventy before Verin would admit that he’d done it on purpose, after fifty-odd years of resentment. Every single time Verin would hint at it over the years, with a smug laughing look at his face. … One that looked a lot like the look Verin had on his face now. A few things fell into place.

“You know.” Essek accused, without saying exactly what Verin would know, just in case.

But Verin smiled and put his arm around Essek’s shoulders; far too comfortable if he were a near-total stranger. “Jester told me of the plan weeks ago - it’s why I volunteered for babysitting duty.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Essek hated the little whine that entered his voice, but he hated the petty feeling of betrayal even more.

Verin shrugged. “It’s funny?”

Essek sighed, and Verin squeezed him closer.

“Look, if it helps - as far as I know, nobody’s looking for you. Your death and self exile before your death was kind of weird, sure, but most people seem to be chalking it up to you not being able to take the pressure of Court and burning out. I think you’re okay for now.”

“Or maybe that means that you don’t pay enough attention to court gossip,” said Essek. Did Verin have to say these ‘death’ and ‘self-exile’ out loud in the middle of a crowd?

“Yeah. Fair. Maybe I’m missing a plot or two, and if you thought that your one option in life is for you to exile yourself and then fake your death - and I’m very carefully not considering what sorts of things you might have done to put you in that position - then, fine. You know better than me. All I’m saying is that there isn’t anyone actively looking or thinking about you anymore,” he said bluntly, and Essek tried not to feel hurt by that. All those years of work, and he just faded from importance.

Verin removed his arm and led them to a now-abandoned booth on the side of the road so he could face his brother. “No - I meant. I mean. Look. Remember all those times that you told me that nobody would consider me a problem unless I made myself a problem?”

“Usually as a way to tell you to get out of my room, yes.” It figured that Verin would remember; it never seemed like he was listening at the time.

“The why and the where aren’t important right now. Maybe you made yourself a problem, but you also took yourself off the board. Nobody’s going to be asking questions about you unless you do something else suspicious, I don’t think.”

“Something suspicious, like, say, entering the country in disguise while attending a crowded event in close proximity to some of the most powerful members of court?” Essek said sarcastically.

“Well, okay, fine. I still think you can stop panicking a little now. And now that everyone knows that I’ve met the Nein, I can go and visit you - and a certain redhead? Jester said that I was supposed to ask you about that.”

“You really do not need to do everything that Jester suggests.” Essek felt a little pang of regret at slandering Jester, but he was still a little angry that she’d gone behind his back.

“C’mon, lighten up. I never understood your problem with having fun.” Verin said, gesturing to the lamps to make sure that Essek got the ‘light’ pun.

“I’m fine with fun. I’m even fine with crowds these days.”

“You’re just not fine with being able to talk to me.” Verin said flatly. He looked disappointed, and Essek hated that he’d put that look on his brother’s face.

“It’s just. You know - the reenactment they put on this year. You know that it’s all lies.”

“Yes, that’s how theater works.” Verin didn’t sound impressed.

Essek pushed on. “It’s not how it went at all - Yeza was imprisoned and tortured. I think they took the beacon on a whim, not out of some noble purpose.”

“Essek. It might have mistaken your notice, I know how you get distracted, but I’ve been a soldier for over a decade now. I’m aware how such tales get cleaned up for the masses.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? Not just the Nein’s story - but all of it? I know you’ve kept your distance from Court, but you have to know we’re lying to everyone.” Essek felt like he was close to begging.

“Essek, it’s just lights.” Verin laughed a little, the way he did when he thought Essek was being unreasonable. “It’s an excuse to take a day off, enjoy yourself. And if comes with a little discomfort and pain - well then. So does all self-knowledge. Or so I’ve heard.”

There was a part of him that had hoped that Verin would have understood. That maybe the intervening years might have allowed the both of them to reach an understanding, that he could have explained. That hope crumbled beneath him.

Verin, taking in whatever expression Essek had on his face, plowed on through. “It’s not even thought of as a religious holiday outside of Rosohna. Bazzoxan gets the sun year-round, we mostly use it as an excuse to light some fireworks and enjoy ourselves for once. Come on, you’re getting stuck in your own head again. I want to meet your friends. They’re not what I’d imagined for you, but I think they’re even better.”

And with that, Verin walked ahead, looking to catch up with the rest of the group.

The star-filled sky was back in place overhead. In the distance, the first of the fireworks displays started to go off. Countless lanterns and lamps and sparklers and Dancing Lights cantrips filled the road ahead of him. It was beautiful, and he felt so separate from it.

The lights had never been the important part, at least not for him. It had been the feeling, the promise of the holiday. Of the pursuit of enlightenment and truth, of camaraderie, of acceptance.

“Verin,” Essek shouted ahead to his brother. Verin turned around, questioningly. “When are you going back?”

“The day after tomorrow. The barracks don’t really understand the whole five day celebration.”

“I would like it if you could contrive a reason to visit Caleb Widogast. Just for a night, you can return to your post in the morning.” Essek said, speaking quickly to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “I would like to show you my life now, if you would consent to it.”

“I … all right.” Verin nodded uselessly.

Essek smiled - a brief thing, and then took one last look back through the glittering streets back to the Court’s dias, before moving to catch up with the Nein.