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Fabian lay in bed, his eye trained on the ceiling. Eye. Just one. He only has one eye now. It’s still difficult getting used to. When he shuts his eye, he smells smoke, remembers the heaviness of a wooden beam crushing him, pinning him to the floor, so close to his papá and yet unable to reach him in time. He feels the sting of Dayne’s sword across his face, hears the sickening squish of his eye being sliced open. He struggles, reliving the worst moments of his life, of finally freeing himself of the beam and staggering towards his father’s room, and he smells blood. He still smells blood, tastes it in his mouth, feels it on his face, sees it everywhere. So much blood. And his papá, tied up to his bedpost, a hideous sight; so bloody, so wild. And then, after the rest of the nightmare plays out, he feels his dagger sinking into his papá’s flesh, feels the man still, and he bolts upright in bed, panting and shaking. He’s been trying to sleep now for three days, but every time… every time. He shivers, despite the spring warmth.
He slides out of bed, and in slippered feet paces around his room. What can he do? He’s tried medicine to help him relax, but it makes the dreams all the more vivid, somehow. He needs to sleep, he knows, but it’s like his mind doesn't even give his body a chance to relax before it replays that night again and again. He needs help, but where does a proud boy turn to when it’s a matter of nightmares? Not his mamá, that’s for sure. She’s been hungover for over a week now, cranky and not wanting to deal with anything that involves thinking as she sobers up from her too-long bender. He could hear her already, chiding Fabian for being afraid of nightmares when he’s about to turn seventeen. “Grow up,” she’d say. “Be a man.” Fabian shrinks in upon himself at the thought of her terse tone as she pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting her migraine. Besides, mamá knows nothing of dreams and nightmares; she’s a full elf and trances, so no, mamá is out of the question.
He could go to Cathilda, surely. She could give him warm milk and sing him a lullaby like she used to when he was little and was afraid of the thunderstorms on the high seas. Would she let him lay his head on her lap? Stroke his hair? Make him feel like a little child again? Is that what Fabian wants? He stops, turns, and looks at the door. Cathilda is not too far away. But he would have to wake her, and the halfling has been so busy lately that Fabian feels guilty intruding upon her private time. She gets so little of it, especially in the wake of the tragedy that occurred here at Seacaster Manor. Besides, it’s so frivolous, so trivial, so… childish to be unable to sleep. Does he want to show that side of him to her?
As Fabian toys with the idea of waking Cathilda, the window of his room silently slides open and shut, and a figure slinks inside, perching on Fabian’s bed, where the half-elf should be. Riz cocks his head, puzzled that Fabian’s not asleep, and watches him as he stands in the middle of his room, staring at the door.
“What’s wrong?” the goblin asks, voice cutting through the silence.
Fabian jumps, whirling around at the sound, hand going to his hip where he would normally keep the Sword of the Seacasters, but as he’s in his pajamas; he’s unarmed.
“The… The Ball? Is that you?” Fabian asks, his voice wavering slightly from being caught off-guard and unarmed.
“Yeah. I was just checking on you. Thought you’d be asleep.”
“Wh… why are you checking on me at 1 am? You should be asleep!”
“Ah, I already got my four hours earlier tonight. Something felt off so I thought I’d check on people.”
“Oh. I see.”
“So, can’t sleep?” Riz asks, moving from a squatting position to sitting properly on the side of the bed. Riz pats the covers next to him, inviting Fabian to join him. The half-elf flops on his back onto the bed, causing Riz to fly an inch off of it before landing again. “Whoa!” Riz says as he makes contact with the bed once more. “That bad, huh?”
“I keep having nightmares,” Fabian mutters, covering his eye with his arm. He moves it off a moment later, the still-tender scar of his right eye aching in pain from the contact. “I keep reliving that night, over and over again. The whole thing. I… I don't know what to do…!” he bites off the last of his words with a high-pitched whine, the sound of a child who is beyond frustrated and ready to cry. Not at all the sound of a near-man.
“Do you want some help?” offers Riz. Fabian considers how to answer. He’s here, with the boy who calls him his best friend, and Fabian’s been starting to believe that it’s true, that this goblin might be his best friend. But he’s Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He’s going to write his name on the world. Can he do that while also getting help? While getting help with sleeping? But he was just about to go to his maid – his old nanny – for help, too, so what really is the difference? He gives in. At least he’s not bothering Cathilda with his problems, plus he’s got someone here offering to help.
“...yes.” His voice is still small, having trouble admitting that he needs help.
Riz hums, and then slides off the bed.
“Okay, first thing’s first. Let's get you nice and relaxed. He sniffs the air; it’s a bit stale in the room. He moves back over and cracks open the window to let in some fresh air. He turns to Fabian. “Have you bathed recently? Had a nice, hot shower to relax you?”
“I bathed this morning…” mumbles Fabian.
“Then you’re taking a hot shower. Or a bath. Either one. Right now. And I bet you have some nice, fancy salts or bath bombs or steamers or something to help, so use ‘em. I want you to feel soft and melty by the time you’re done.”
Fabian sits up and looks at Riz. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. I have trouble sleeping sometimes, too, and I know just how to give you a good night’s rest. Believe me. So go. I’m going to make you some warm milk in the meantime. You good with nutmeg and cinnamon?”
“Um, yeah,” Fabian mumbles.
“Good.” the goblin grins. “Now go take that shower. I’m going to go raid the kitchen.” Fabian opens his mouth to ask a question, but Riz cuts him off. “Don’t worry, I know where it is. I’ve done my recon on your house.”
Fabian wonders if he should be worried about what ‘recon on your house’ means and entails, but for the meantime, he heads to his bathroom and hops in the shower, throwing in a lavender steamer.
When he comes out of the shower, indeed feeling relaxed, but maybe not quite ‘melty’ – he wasn’t going to stay in there too long, hot water doing a number on his skin, after all – he took his time applying his moisturizers and serums, making sure his skin is youthful and glowing. The routine helps him relax further, and he wonders if he should do this every night. He steps out of the bathroom and spots Riz sitting on his bed, waiting for him.
“You’re done? Good. I’ll get the milk. Have a seat.” The goblin vanishes and Fabian takes a seat on the side of his bed. Riz returns a minute later with a mug full of steaming, spiced milk, with a stick of cinnamon sticking out of it.
“Drink up,” Riz directs him, a small smile playing on his face. “Gukgak recipe, guaranteed to make you super drowsy and feeling good and full.”
Fabian sips the drink, and immediately he feels his body relaxing further, reaching that ‘melty’ stage that Riz had alluded to. It’s very delicious, and he stirs the stick in the mug before taking another large sip. He breathes in the steam from the mug and his shoulders drop a little. He can feel himself getting sleepy.
“The Ball, this is really good,” he murmurs before going for another drink.
“I’ll let my grandmother know,” says the rogue, flicking his ears and closely watching Fabian continue to drink.
Fabian drains the last dregs of the mug and Riz takes it from him, placing it on his desk. Fabian feels heavy, so sleepy, and so good and warm. It feels like he might actually sleep tonight.
“Let’s get you into bed, alright?” Riz suggests, and Fabian drowsily nods, climbing under the covers and settling in. To his surprise, Riz follows suit after turning out the lights; kicking off his shoes, shucking his waistcoat, button-up, and slacks. He climbs in after Fabian in an undershirt and boxers. “Wouldn’t want to get my dirty clothes in your nice bedding,” he explains nonchalantly.
“I could loan you a shirt,” Fabian mumbles.
“Nah, don’t bother yourself. You’re already nice and comfy in bed, yeah?”
“Mmm... yeah…” Fabian manages. Riz snuggles up in the crook of Fabian’s arm and sighs.
“Sorry, I’m not much of a singer, otherwise I’d sing you a lullaby.”
“Hah… that’s okay, The Ball. Don’t need one…”
“I’ve got something better, anyway,” Riz whispers, and he burrows closer to Fabian’s side. Fabian feels something warm work its way over his stomach and realizes it’s Riz’s tail. He wonders if he should feel weirded out about it, being this close to another boy, but he doesn't really care in this moment; it just feels right.
And then it happens: a low, resonating rumble begins to emanate from Riz. It’s warm and comforting, and it makes Fabian feel safe. Riz is purring. He never knew goblins could purr. He glances down at his friend, and despite the darkness of the room, he sees a slight tinge to the goblin’s cheeks.
“I… I don’t do this very often. Special privileges for my best friend,” Riz says, burying his face to hide his blush.
“I’m honored,” Fabian says, and he closes his eye. Eye. He only has one, but suddenly it doesn't feel so bad anymore.
“Goodnight, Fabian,” Riz whispers.
“Goodnight, The Ball.”
Sleep finally takes hold of Fabian, and to his blessed relief, no dreams come.