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Essek couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had felt warmer.

His cheeks were flushed with the wine’s buzz. His belly was filled with Caduceus’ comfort and healthy food. His feet were immersed in the hot tube’s water. But not even him could ignore the main source for all that warmth: his heart, full as it was by the Mighty Nein.

He had made an effort to stay away. ignored Jester’s constant invitations, tried not to listen to their laughter echoing beneath the Lucid Bastion every time they returned to Rosohna.

Turns out, Essek was a weak man. But how was he to ignore that group of impossibly loud and colourful people?

Fjord’s attempts to seem grounded and reliable.

Caduceus’ easy kindness.

Beauregard’s smug smirk when she knew she was right.

Nott’s benevolent mischievousness.

Yasha’s grounding calmness.

Caleb’s small smiles when he thought no one was paying attention.

Jester’s open friendliness.

Essek grew to expect their noise. Jester’s loud voice speaking in his mind and mumbling on and on about the most absurd things. He cherished the few moments he spent teaching dunamancy to Caleb, the human wizard learning it so fast as if the Dynasty exclusive school of magic posed no challenge at all.

He grew attached. He missed them terribly when they went away to find the second Beacon. Foolishly, he had expected Jester to keep contact, to not forget about him.

How stupid.

She didn’t send him messages for fun. She did it because she had information to convey or favors to ask. She didn’t do it because she liked him. Who would?

Faithless, treacherous, lonely Essek Thelyss. The Shadowhand. That was all he would ever be.

Sleep eluded him. War developments required his attention. So he pushed on. He had lived 120 years without the Mighty Nein, surely he would survive the next 120 and further.

Yet, his traitorous heart filled with joy when a familiar chaotic voice echoed in his head:

 “Guess who is back?”

And when she asked if he wanted to get dinner with them? He pretended he didn’t, but it was a lie. He denied it, went back home, being received by the utter silence of his lonely existence.

He couldn’t stand it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and went back. Knocked on their door, fought the blush creeping up his cheeks as he explained he had changed his mind.

Jester’s smile grew and grew as he talked, until it occupied her whole face. How could that beautiful smile be for him? It made no sense. And yet…

Yet they fed him, talked to him, were interested in what he had to say, answered his questions, shared secrets, hopes, dreams. Frumpkin sat on his lap the whole time. Did Caleb make him do it?

For once, Essek didn’t feel like a nuisance. Like an obligation, something to be dealt with.

He felt a spark of their love.

It was so clear how deeply they loved each other, and for a night he got to partake in it, feel an ounce of it. It was intoxicating.

And when Caleb offered to accompany him back home? Essek thought his heart was going to flee his chest. Good thing Beau decided to tag along or he might have done something even more foolish.

He would never forget that night, never forget how warm he felt all over. He would hold onto Jester’s Traveler brochure forever. He could care less for the god, but it was her handwriting, her drawings. He would need it, that physical proof.

Once the warmth drained out and the freezing cold reinstated itself, he would cherish the reminder that it had been real.

He had, at least for one night, been loved by the Mighty Nein.