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the-greatest-magic-of-all · 5 months

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Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire

○ fandom: fantasy high

○ main pairing: fabriz (fabian x riz)

○ characters: fabian | riz

○ genre/warnings: fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort

○ word count: 7,454

→ summary: Lost in a blizzard and separated from the rest of the party, Fabian does his best to keep Riz safe while trudging through snowbanks until he happens upon a lonely cottage...

○ note: y'all this was supposed to be short. I hope you enjoy it though!

White.

That’s all Fabian could see.

For miles and miles, all around, as he trudged through banks of snow across the mountainside despite the fall of night. In his mind, thoughts raced about, weaving in and out of the forefront of it like waves lapping at a shore.

Most were complaints and grievances over the chill seeping into his bones. The pieces of snow sneaked into his boots when one slipped deeper than expected into the heaps of snow. There was one thought that never left, though. That he kept repeating endlessly, like a broken record.

A prayer.

One to any deity that would listen.

To Cassandra.

To Helio or Sol.

Anyone.

A desperate plea for a sign, no matter how slight, that he was heading the right way.

He’d been sure of it back when he and Riz had first escaped the abyssal cultists’ sanctum. Stumbling out of a secret passage and into the harsh cold of an unforeseen blizzard, they’d only had seconds to decide before they either froze or got caught.

As thunderous, frosty winds buffeted their bodies and bellowed in their ears, they bickered about their next move. Seeing as splitting up hadn’t been the Bad Kids’ plan going in. But, then again, when had any of their plans ever gone off without a hitch? At least they’d had enough shrewdness to set a rendezvous point at The Last Boulder Inn in the Dwarven village they’d set out from last.

“We didn’t account for not being able to get to the rendezvous point, did we?” Riz yelled over the wind, clutching the artifact they’d stolen (An ancient tome of some kind, don’t ask him.) close to his chest, shielding it from the blizzard the best he could.

Faint shouts began to stir from the tunnel behind them, interrupting any quip Fabian could’ve shot back. Barkings of orders in Infernal—no, he’s heard The Hangman and Gorthalax speak it too many times—in Abyssal. And they were growing louder and louder despite the wind doing its best to drown them out. The cultists. Both of their eyes widened as they looked at the closed secret door, back at each other, and then all around.

Fabian soon realized that even at his height he couldn’t find any substantial path. So, he turned to Riz and said, “Get on my shoulders, see if you can spot a path or a-a cave or, or, or something!”

Passing off the tome to him, Riz scaled Fabian with practiced ease. Only thrown off slightly by the force of the winds, but he got up there nonetheless. The cultists’ cries of anger grew in volume in the panicked yet empty moments of searching.

“There!” Riz shouted from above, sticking out a gloved hand toward something Fabian couldn’t see. “There’s a cabin about a mile, maybe two away from here. We can make it. I know we can.”

“Well, you’re not making it anywhere. Take this,” Fabian shoved the tome back into Riz’s arms before he dropped to one knee. Slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. Zipping it open, he presented the open compartment to Riz. “And get in.”

Riz’s eyes went wide. “But—”

“In this sort of weather, the safest place for you and that book to be is in my backpack.” He said, desperation tinging what authority he tried to have in this moment. “The Ball, your tiny legs aren’t going to be able to keep up with me. Not in snow this deep and gales this strong. Get. In.”

Riz stared at the bag with a scowl before he let out a hiss and shoved his briefcase in the bag before getting in himself. “You’re heading due east, okay? Due. East. With all the ridges and slopes, it’s gonna feel like you’re going the wrong way but I promise you aren’t.” And a second before Fabian zipped it up after him, Riz poked his head out and said, “Oh, and remember—”

“Three pats on my bag if I’m going to open it because if I don’t you’ll shoot me.”

Riz grinned wide, his eyes sparkling. “Best Friends.”

“That’s quite enough out of you.” With a pointed zip of his bag, Fabian hauled his backpack onto his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he took a glance at Riz’s compass, due northeast, before setting off.

That must’ve been an hour ago.

Maybe longer.

He’d lost sensation in his nose, ears, and cheeks about fifteen minutes in, which was a blessing in some ways. No longer having to endure how the blizzard’s winds whipped and lashed against them. Such strong gusts that a stray thought settled in the back of Fabian’s mind of clothes torn by icy currents and boots rent by frozen snow.

About twenty minutes in, his fingers had gone numb as well, even with his gloved hands. More of a bane than the others, he’d been shaking so badly that, at some point, he’d dropped Riz’s compass. But he couldn’t stop to look for it. He couldn’t stop at all. Because if he did, he wouldn’t start again and if he didn’t start moving again…

Well, best not to think too hard about it. All he had to do was keep moving in the direction Riz had told him to. He’d said there was a cabin, so there must be a cabin. Fabian just has to make it there.

So, he kept trudging. One step after another. Through the mountainside, half frozen, enduring Constitution saving throw after saving throw. Making each one by the skin of his teeth. He crossed his fingers that Riz was as successful as he, though he didn’t know many Rogues with high Constitution scores.

At that thought, he faltered in his strenuous stride. In the crook of two hills whose sides rose well above his head, blocking his vision from anything but the bright grey sky. He stopped. Yelling was a pointless thing to do in a blizzard as severe as this one turned out to be, but Fabian had no other choice. He wouldn’t risk slinging his bag off of his shoulder and opening it up.

One, because he’s semi-convinced that his backpack has frozen to his thick jacket and he couldn’t take it off even if he wanted to. And two, exposing Riz to this cold would certainly finish him off if the failed saving throws hadn’t.

Yelling it was then.

“The Ball?”

No response. He didn’t yell as loud as he could’ve. So, Fabian tried again.

“The Ball!”

The howling wind swirling around him seemed oh so much fiercer and vociferous in the absence of a response. Even faster than it had been beating already, Fabian’s heart picked up speed.

“Riz!” Fabian shouted behind him, his voice shaking. “Riz, talk to me!”

A beat of silence, of stillness. Not that of a calming lake or the morning after winter’s first snow but the silence and stillness of a long-dead corpse. Another beat. And another. It’s only when fear spiked in Fabian’s heart and he jolted his backpack around, trying to get it off, that Riz’s voice reached his ears. Barely making it over the wind.

“I’m fine,” Came Riz’s voice, muffled and weak. Fabian could almost cry at the sound of it. “Just keep going, I’m… fine. We’re almost there, right?”

“Of course, we are.” He lied, his proud voice ringing out into the night because what else could he have said? ‘No, he’s starting to think he’s been walking in circles and that they’re going to freeze to death in the Mountains of Chaos’. Don’t be stupid. “I can see the cottage now. We’ll be out of the cold in no time at all.”

“Told ya. K-knew you could do it.”

Oh.

An epiphany struck him like a well-packed snowball to the face.

He’d thought that if he stopped in all this frost and fury he’d never get himself moving again. But after that, how could he have ever not started moving again?

Gazing up the snowy hill before him, the steepest he’d encountered yet, he resettled Riz on his back, took a deep breath of sharp, frigid air, and set off once more.

Reinvigorated by Riz’s conviction in him, Fabian began climbing up the side of the icy hill. He caught himself several times, seconds before he slipped and fell. Wondering if this is what Kristen meant about all that “As Above, So Below” Cleric business. How her faith, even as a single mortal, was enough to revitalize an entire deity. Simply because she wholeheartedly, unshakably believed in them.

Cresting the hill’s peak, he found not only a plateauing terrain and a sparse grove of evergreens but also a dark, ramshackle, old cottage. As he took in the sight of a sanctuary, Fabian knew he would never underestimate the power of belief. Or perhaps he’d never underestimate the power of Riz Gukgak.

It took three good shoves to burst through the cottage’s frozen door and another to get to shut it again.

Slumped with his shoulder still pressed to the door, Fabian’s laboured pants echoed out in the quiet of the stone cottage. The howls and groans of the blizzard still rang in his ears despite how muted they sounded now. As he inhaled and exhaled ever-shaky breaths, his eyes scanned the place.

Dusty.

Everything in the cottage was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. In the center of the wall to his left was a sizable fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in forever. A frightful-looking bed sat in the far corner. Made up of only a thin mattress, a threadbare blanket and a pillow. Which only left the tiny kitchen beside him on his right that spiders had long since colonized. Oh, and a crotchety chair that sat lonely at a rickety table next to it.

Whoever had lived here, had lived alone. But they didn’t anymore, live here that is. Not for many months, probably.

No pissed-off homeowners to run into then. A small blessing.

Alright. No rest for the wicked.

Pushing off of the door with a wince at his aching muscles, Fabian stalked toward the center of the cottage near the fireplace. Beginning the process of detaching his backpack from his back. As gently as he could, he placed his bag down next to the unlit hearth and collapsed into a heap beside it.

Giving the side of the bag the three pats required to signal safety to Riz, he buried his numb face in his numb hands and groaned.

“Ugh, remind me to never go mountaineering again, The Ball. Never again. I swear I had a more pleasurable time trekking through a literal Nightmare Forest than I just did through all that fucking snow. This book better be worth it or I solemnly swear to throw Adaine and her high Arcana checks off the nearest cliff. You hear me, The Ball! Off a very steep, very snowy cliff! Like to see her Portents save her from that. Ha-ha!”

The beat of silence that came after Fabian’s little rant stretched on for far longer than he thought it would. The acute quiet, well, disquieted him. Made his stomach churn and chest tighten. He had good reason to be anxious right now. They’d almost frozen to death in a blizzard and got separated from their friends. Oh, if the rest of the Bad Kids were here, perhaps this wouldn’t feel so bad.

“Do you think she and the others made it out alright? I mean, I have no doubt that Gorgug had those weird cultists handled with his axe and Kristen has all her anti-evil Cleric spells but… Adaine or Fig would’ve messaged one of us if something went really wrong, right? Of course. Of course, they would’ve. So if they haven’t that means they’re fine. Hopefully, all this blizzard shit will let up in the morning and we’ll all make it to that inn in one piece. If not…well, if not…”

Another beat of silence.

“The Ball? Isn’t this where you chime in with one of your numerous and lengthy backup plans?”

Fabian turned around and peered at his now unsettlingly still backpack. He called out again, “Riz?”

Crawling over to it, already flinching away just in case a stray bullet flew out, he hesitantly zipped his backpack open.

Fabian gasped.

Riz’s body trembled as his tail curled up around the tome. His eyes were closed tight while one hand gripped his gun, his fingers having long turned blue. Almost every inch of his visible soft green skin was tinged an icy blue, including his tightly wound tail. He’d failed nearly every Constitution saving throw, taking on exhaustion fivefold.

Worse yet, he’s still making them.

One more failure and he’d—

Fabian bolted to his feet, his heart racing once more.

How should he fix this? What could he do? He wasn’t a high enough level Bard yet to be able to cast Greater Restoration and even if he was, he could only feasibly remove a single level of exhaustion. If he couldn’t remove them… then the only thing to do was prevent Riz from getting his sixth and final level.

Steeling himself with a breath and a look at a freezing Riz, who always believed in him so fiercely, Fabian was prepared to do anything and everything to save him.

Quicker than he thought he could with sensationless fingers, he unbuttoned and ripped off his thick, fur jacket. Uncovering his battle sheet. Thanks to the carefully wrapped Elven silk, heated by his inner fire elemental, he’d been making all those Con saving throws with advantage. Riz needed it much more than he did right now.

Ignoring how the chill of the cottage raised goosebumps on his exposed arms and caused shivers down his spine, Fabian got to work. Scooping Riz out of the backpack and into his arms, he felt like a block of ice. And once Fabian pulled him closer, the soft chattering of teeth reached his ears. He didn’t have much time till the next saving throw arrived.

A precious moment or two was spent prying the thick tome and arquebus out of Riz’s hands. Fabian’s voice softened to a croon as he did, “Come on, Riz. I promise nothing bad will happen to them if you let go. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

Eventually, thankfully, Riz’s grip loosened enough to slip the two items out of it. Setting them aside, Fabian got to work unsheathing his Sword of Shadows and swathing Riz in his battle sheet. The motions had a strange familiarity to them.

Bringing him back to a moment of relief within a lengthy battle as rain poured down on them and he held an unconscious Riz in his arms. Just as he’s doing now. His face had been more relaxed back then, instead being tensed and scrunched up in distress. Though, as he finished wrapping him up, Riz’s furrowed eyebrows and curled lips eased as the sheet’s warmth sank into him.

Fabian had almost lost him that day too. Only time would tell if they’d be as fortunate as they were that day to cheat death once more. But, watching Riz sigh and nuzzle into the fabric of the sheet, his boyish charm making a heartening return to his face, their chances looked promising.

Now that he had a warming Riz in his arms, Fabian almost placed him back on the ground. Ready to get to work on a fire when a stray memory of one of Sandra Lynn’s survival lectures stopped him. Something about never sleeping on cold, bare ground. Glancing down at the grungy, creaky floorboards, his nose wrinkled. Yeah, no, he wouldn’t want to rest his sheet down there, let alone Riz.

With a bit of maneuvering, Fabian managed to keep Riz in his arms as he nudged their stuff away from the front of the fireplace and he dragged the ragged mattress from the bed to place it there instead. Giving the old thing a couple of hits to get the dust off of them. He only succeeded in sending whatever foul substance blanketing it into the air.

One coughing fit later, he laid Riz down on the mattress, resting his head on the worn pillow and covering him in the blanket. Which in practice seemed to be just the suggestion of one and provided almost no actual warmth.

Well, it’s the thought that counts.

Nodding once at the sight, he rose to his feet and set out to start a fire in the hearth. Or rather, convince his inner fire elemental to light some logs ablaze. Whatever you wanted to call it, it’s about to get real warm in here real quick. Rubbing his hands together with a tiny smirk, he glanced around the fireplace for logs to burn.

Strange.

There don’t appear to be any logs stacked near the fireplace’s rack. None under the bed. Or resting against the sides of the web-bedecked kitchen counters.

There don’t seem to be any logs… anywhere in the cottage.

Right, nobody has lived here for a long time.

No person. No logs. No fire.

Cool, cool, cool.

That’s fine.

Fabian just needs to… to…

To…

By the Seven Winds and Jane Wren’s blade, this is hopeless.

Look, Fabian has never ever claimed to be the Smart Bad Kid. Adaine and The Ball had that on lock! Not the wisest either, Kristen and, surprisingly, Gorgug could take that medal. And hell! Fig had enough wit and cleverness to sink a galleon.

Figuring stuff out, remembering and recalling information, none of that was Fabian’s job. His job was to deal stupid amounts of damage, prance about with his sheet dealing out bardics and imposing disadvantage when needed, and, finally, to look hot.

That’s about it.

His Intelligence and Wisdom checks have rarely gone well and even when they did, even when he oh so desperately wanted to be the smart one, he could never beat out his friends’ rolls. And, ultimately, he’s fine with it because that’s not his job.

But right now, it is.

And worse, he needs to be good at it.

So, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to come up with a solution for his crisis.

There’s no firewood in the cottage. He needs to find some or else Riz will freeze to death. Where does one get firewood? If they were back in Solace, he’d assume that there was a hardware store, one that the Thistlesprings surely patronaged, that sold the stuff. But they’re deep in the Mountains of Chaos and the closest town is too far away to go just for firewood. The previous owner must’ve gotten it themself, which means that… that…

Wait.

A shed!

When he had booked it over to the cottage, he hadn’t paid it any mind, but there had been another structure attached to it. Surely, if the previous owner had to have cut down the trees themself, they would have needed somewhere to put all that lumber! Yes, yes, that’s it!

Throwing on his thick coat and his gloves, he checked on Riz one last time before venturing back into the blizzard. He wasn’t quite the ice block he’d been before, but he was still much too cold for his liking. Ruffling Riz’s wild mane of waves and tucking him a little tighter in the sheet, Fabian went to search for firewood.

As he stepped out, all at once, every ounce of cold he’d shaken off once he stumbled into the cottage returned. Tenfold even, now that he didn’t have his battle sheet to keep him warm. It was like walking straight into a brick wall of frost and harsh winds. None of that discouraged him, though.

Raising a hand to block what little he could of the storm from his face, he trudged through the compounding snow. A gloved hand followed the rough stone exterior walls around the length of the cottage. Until he turned the corner and saw it. The shed wasn’t that big, which is likely why he discredited it at first glance, but it was plenty big enough to hold lumber.

Like the cottage’s front door, it took a few good jerks to yank one of the shed’s double doors open and shut, but only halfway. It would have to do, he wasn’t planning on staying long. Wrapping his arms around himself to preserve what little warmth he had left, Fabian hummed an old sea shanty as he did a once-over of the shed.

Good news: Amongst the lingering dirt and dust, sat bags of kindling and heaps of hefty logs were stacked on a sturdy, metal rack. More than enough for the night they’d be spending here.

Bad news: None of the logs lined up along the wall had been chopped small enough to fit in the fireplace. Fabian didn’t know a lot about survival tactics but all the logs he’d ever seen used in fireplaces were chopped into quarters or eighths. Not one big log.

Promising news: There’s a perfectly good axe nearby to chop those logs into the smaller pieces he needed.

Horrifying news: It’s clutched in the hands of a corpse.

Collapsed in a corner of the shed was what he could only assume was the cottage’s previous owner.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Fabian’s scream went muffled by the raging blizzard as he leapt a foot into the air at the sight. It was too cold for there to be a smell coming from it, but he covered his face anyway. Pressed up against the wall opposite it, he stilled. Controlling his panicked breaths the best he could. He’d dealt with the undead too many times not to have a healthy suspicion of “dead” bodies.

When it’d become apparent that no one was rolling for initiative, his shoulders relaxed. Pushing off of the wall, he crept over to the body. It’d been lying on the ground, curled up around the axe, next to a chopping block. Frozen despite the thick coat wrapped around them.

Riz would’ve probably inched closer to reveal the body’s face currently covered by a large hood, but Fabian couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he focused on the axe, careful to avoid touching the corpse as he took hold of the handle. Try as he might, his mild tugs weren’t enough to wrench it from the body.

Deep sigh.

His grip on the axe tightened. Already wincing at the act of disrespecting the dead. Counting down from ten, when he reached one he yanked the axe free. The sickening crunch of frozen bones breaking that sounded out into the quiet of the shed would haunt him for years.

Turning away from the body, Fabian dragged the axe behind him as he shuffled over to the rack for a bunch of logs. Settling one on the chopping block with a steading breath. Adjusting his hold on the throat and shoulder of the axe, he mimicked the stance he’d seen Gorgug take thousands of times now.

Drawing on every ounce of his strength, he heaved the axe up, his eyes never leaving the center of the log, and brought it down. Splitting the log in two.

The repetitive motions were soothing. In their own way. Even as his muscles began to ache and scream for a break. And even as the chill of the Mountains drained his energy. His mind found comfort in the raising and falling of the axe’s blade and the splitting of wood. It was like trudging through the snow. He didn’t know how far he had to walk; he didn’t know how many logs he’d have to chop. But he kept going anyway.

Fabian’s rhythm finally halted once the axe’s blade sunk so deep into the block that pure momentum wasn’t enough for him to be able to lift it again. Everything he’d been ignoring in favour of chopping hit him all at once. The sting of overworked muscles. The stiffness of his frame. The level of exhaustion.

Crumpling around the axe and onto the chopping block, a stray thought of falling asleep sounded like such a brilliant idea. Right here. Right now. He’d bring the firewood in afterwards. Just for a few minutes. Fabian’s heavy eyelids threatened to shut and stay that way for longer than he’d like. But not before his eyes landed on the corpse. Frozen to death in a crumpled pile in a shed in the middle of nowhere.

No.

That’s not how he’s going to go.

And besides, there’s a freezing Goblin inside who needs him.

Gritting his teeth, ignoring soreness and shaking limbs, Fabian brought himself to his feet. It took a good, solid minute but he eventually got there. Leaning heavily on the upright axe handle, he took a moment to take in just how many logs he’d chopped. The floor of the shed was absolutely covered in them. His eyes widened.

Okay, he’d kind of, maybe overdid it. By a lot.

Holy shit this is so much firewood.

Sheepish, Fabian gathered as much as could in the old, leather firewood carrier, along with a bundle of kindling,. Putting the rest up on the rack before heading back to the cottage.

With a noisy thump, he plopped the carrier and himself down next to the hearth. Unable to ignore how Riz didn’t flinch at its suddenness and volume. He got right to work.

Fabian could feel the palpable judgement from all the rangers and druids he knew as he built the fire. Deciding on something akin to a Jenga tower with the kindling on top. Sitting back, he stared at the logs. A deep frown on his face as he weighed the pros and cons of starting over again before shrugging and summoning his fire elemental.

After that fateful Spring Break, he and his elemental, whom he’d named Nar, had become quite the magical guinea pig for all of the Wizards he knew. Unable to stand the arcane anomaly laid before their inquisitive (read: nosy) minds.

Between Adaine, Aelwen, Ayda, and Zayne, they’d come to a peculiar arcane conclusion. You see, when he’d kissed Nar in Fallinel and swallowed that mote of fire, he’d become a material component of sorts.

Apparently, motes of elemental energy are usually only placed in expensive jewels. Thus becoming an Elemental Gem capable of casting Conjure Elemental. Which would make him the Half-Elven version of it, except better since the Gems are only one use. Or something like that. Fabian had only ever understood that much of their arcane babbling before zoning out.

To him, the academic reasons behind the source of his bardic power never mattered. Much to his Wizard friends’ exasperation. No, what mattered was how he felt and wanted other people to feel, and from there, his magic flowed into the world.

Knowing how freaked out Kalina made Kristen, he’d wanted her to feel every bit the hero she was when he cast Heroism on her. Whenever he cast Faerie Fire, it focused on his want, his need, to see what could potentially harm his friends. Fig had even once described his bardic inspirations as a surging seaside campfire after being shipwrecked. Hopeful and heartening in the face of overwhelming odds. While hers were more like a galvanizing jolt of pure hell-fiery rock n’ roll.

Whenever his Wizard friends had wanted him to conjure his elemental, he always went back to the moment when he summoned it forth for the first time. A time when he wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and keep them safe. More specifically, keeping Riz safe.

This must be why when he tried to summon it, wanting nothing more than to protect his best friend from the cold, Nar appeared quicker than it ever had.

In a rush of flames erupting from his sheet, Nar sprung to life in its sleek Elven shape of roiling flames. Immediately, it curled around Riz’s unconscious form. Adjusting the sheet around him before cupping his face and kissing his forehead.

A small spark of jealousy flared in Fabian’s chest as he rolled his eyes at his elemental’s cooing and doting.

Audibly clearing his throat so that Nar would pay attention to him, he gave a pointed nod at the fireplace. “Alright. If you’re quite finished with your little love fest over there, you have a job to do.”

Crossing its arms, Nar reluctantly left Riz’s side, not before one of their slender hands gave his curls one last ruffle. Without another word from Fabian, it dove into the hearth’s opening. Encompassing the stack of firewood and setting them ablaze. A tidal wave of heat crashed over him, almost to the point of pain against his icy, numb face.

Nar flowed out of the swelling fire to come to stand in front of Fabian, looking quite satisfied with itself. Rolling his eyes, Fabian gave it an obligatory round of claps, to which it did a ballerina’s curtsy before disappearing into his battlesheet.

Just as Fabian shook his head with a fond smile on his lips at his elemental’s dramatics, wondering where in Spyre it could’ve gotten that from, a small sigh pricked up his ears.

Whipping around just in time to watch as Riz sluggishly woke up. His eyelids opened to reveal golden gems, usually keen and hyperacute, now left hazy and weary by his levels of exhaustion. Yet they opened all the same.

“Riz!” Fabian’s heart leapt in his chest as he pulled the mattress closer to him and the fireplace.

“F’bian?” Riz murmured, looking like he was caught between wanting to curl up into the sheet further and sitting up to talk to him.

With a gentle hand placed on the center of Riz’s chest, Fabian guided him back to lying down. Maneuvering himself to sit behind the mattress and slightly above Riz. As not to force him to strain as they spoke.

Brushing a rebellious curl out of Riz’s sleepy face, Fabian said, “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

Riz heaved a shaky sigh, and Fabian’s heart skipped a beat as Riz leaned into the hand that’d lingered near his face. “Tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

“And I’ve seen you not sleep for a month.”

Riz smiled at that memory. “Hehe, yeah, gotta be a record right?”

Yeah, Fabian’s memory of that whole ordeal was less fond.

It’d been over the summer last year, and Riz had gone into “deep cover” again. Only for Fabian to find him perched like a gargoyle underneath the Marigold Docks running on zero sleep and heaps of coffee.

Apparently, he’d been tailing someone for his Dad, official upper planes business. Fabian had hardly cared about the reasons Riz had blustered about when caught, he’d instead immediately cast Sleep at his highest spell slot. Making a Dex save directly after to catch Riz’s unconscious form before he fell into the river.

Riz had woken up hours later in Fabian’s bed more than unimpressed, but Fabian ignored his glares and grumbles. Only mentioning that his dad might prefer that Riz didn’t work himself to an early death, and his mother more so. That shut him up enough to eat the soup Cathilda had made him.

Hmm.

Fabian pursed his lips, still deep in thought. “Are you hungry, perchance?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Riz answered, furrowing his brow as he sensed they got off-topic somehow. They widened a second later as he bolted upright. “Wait, the tome! Did it make it? Is it ruined?”

“The tome is fine, The Ball. Look see,” Fabian said, reaching over to where he discarded the thick, leather-bound book and presenting it to Riz. “You kept it perfectly safe.”

“Good, good, good,” He said as his body relaxed at the sight of the tome. As he laid back down, his eyes grew heavy and his voice drowsy as he said one last time, “Good.”

By the gods, Riz was adorable when he was tired. With a small smile on his lips, Fabian brushed a few of Riz’s curls from his face and readjusted the battle sheet upwards. “Don’t worry, you focus on resting up and I’ll—” He looked out into the desolate cottage, frowning. “—Find us something to eat.”

Scanning his eyes over the interior of the cottage again, Fabian couldn’t help the grimace that took over his face. Nothing to find but dust and dirt. And heading outside to hunt for food (something he’s never done in his life) definitely wasn’t an option. Oh, this night just wouldn’t end!

An ever-growing sense of fatigue settled over him and a huge yawn escaped his lips. He was just so tired. And his bones ached and muscles screamed at him every time he moved. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. Just one more thing to do. Find food and then sleep. That’s it. Just find some food.

The first place Fabian looked was in his backpack. Mainly because it meant that he didn’t have to stand back up just yet but also because there could be a couple portions of rations that he hadn’t eaten yet.

Rifling through it, all he managed to find was a bag of loose nuts and berries. Fig had gathered them a couple days ago and tried to figure out how to cast Goodberry. Though she never figured it out (no matter how many times she used the words and movements they’d seen her mother use), they were still berries. And nuts! And thus, food! Sure, they’re still a far cry from anything substantial, but discovering them gave Fabian a much-needed boost in energy.

No longer so hopeless and weary, he gave the cottage a more thorough look through. Opening up creaking, dusty cabinets and cupboards and looking under tables and benches. Until he realized one of the heavier sacks he tossed aside left a trail of scattered oats across the floor.

Oats!

Fabian dropped to his knees, his heart racing and breath bottled up in his chest and lifted the sack upright. Steadying it before he ripped its top seam open. Revealing an entire, large bag of thick rolled oats. Still hesitant, Fabian dipped a hand into the grain and lifted a scoop of it to his nose before letting it fall back into the sack through his fingers. It didn’t smell off. Didn’t look it either. No mould or rot of any kind. There was no way for him to be one hundred percent sure, but he was willing to take the chance.

Now, he isn’t about to act like he’s Spyre’s greatest chef, but he has watched Cathilda make him porridge enough times to know that even he can’t fuck up making oatmeal…. He’s pretty sure he can’t fuck it up…. He has burned water before….

Riz might be fucked.

But it’s worth a shot!

After grabbing a cast-iron cooking pot from beside the fireplace, Fabian ventured back outside into the blizzard to fill the pot with untouched snow. He brought it back inside and hung it on the hook above the livid, scarlet flames. Letting the snow melt and boil as he grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen and dragged the sack of oats closer to the fireplace.

Between Riz’s soft snores and the crackling of lit hearth, this moment was strangely peaceful and almost domestic. Safe from the raging snowstorm outside, Fabian sat next to Riz on the mattress. Wiping off the dust from the wooden spoon with his jacket. His gaze shifted from Riz to the pot to the spoon and back again.

Until the snow, now water, began to bubble and boil. Fabian then took the pot off of the hook over the fire and placed it on another away from it but still close enough to keep the water warm. Next, he carefully scooped out handfuls of oats and dropped them into the boiling water. Watching as they began to soften and thicken and cling to the spoon as he stirred. Slowly but surely, it became porridge before his eyes.

Click.

Fabian was startled out of his cooking reverie by the sound of a camera shutter behind him. He whipped around to see Riz, his cheeks still rosy and eyes filled with sleep, holding his crystal up and staring back at him with a lazy grin.

“The Ball!” Fabian said with a gasp. “You can’t take photos of man without telling him!”

Smug as can be, Riz grinned and said, “I just did.”

“You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I was.” He said defiantly before the photo he took on his crystal caught his attention again and his face and voice softened. “It’s just… you looked so content. And none of our friends will believe you cooked anything without photo evidence, so…”

“Alright, fine. But sit tight, it’s almost done.” Fabian peered over the lip of the cooking pot at the bubbling porridge within. His brow arched and lips pursed. “I think.”

Creeping forward until he reached Fabian’s side, Riz took a deep breath as he peered over the pot as well. “Smells good.”

“That’s promising.” Fabian said, following suit. The nutty and slightly sweet aroma filled his nose in short order. Hmm, yes. That does smell rather good. Chalk up another win for Fabian tonight. Stirring the pot with a little more pomp and self-satisfaction, Fabian went on, “I do have to admit that it’s going to be rather plain. All I have to add are some of the berries Fig found a couple days ago.”

“Oh! Wait,” Riz scurried over to the nigh-forgotten backpack and pulled his briefcase out of it. Clicking it open, he stuck an arm into the case and began to rummage through the infinite space within. “Remember the nice couple back near the base of the mountain?”

“You mean the throuple with the freaky ravens?”

“Yes, them. If I’m remembering correctly they kept a hive of bees and gave us—” He pulled out a glass container of something bright and golden and lifted it high in the air. “—Ah ha! Gave us some honey for the road!”

“Huzzah!” Fabian cried, throwing one of his arms up in the air with a little more flourish. “Here, come add it to the pot.”

Still wrapped in the battle sheet, Riz scampered over with the vial of honey. Uncorking it with his teeth, he poured the viscous, golden liquid into the steaming pot of thick oatmeal while Fabian mixed them together. The two of them breathed in the smell of oatmeal now with the added slightly floral smell of the honey and looked at each other with warm smiles. Perfect.

“Brillant as ever the Ball.” Fabian said as he picked up the pouch filled with boysenberries and walnuts and delicately sprinkled them on top of the oatmeal.

Riz shrugged and said with a wry smirk, “Well, I try.”

Huddled together on the mattress with the cooking pot between them, the two of them took turns eating spoonfuls of their dinner. Filling their stomachs with much-needed warmth and sustenance. Between the mouthfuls, they idly talked in hushed tones. Riz flipped through the tome that they stole. Explaining its relevance to their current adventure and theorizing what their plan should be in the morning to Fabian. Who was still only half listening.

Too wrapped up in gazing at how the fireplace’s flickering flames danced in Riz’s amber eyes and softened some of his harsh yet handsome features. Sue him. His best friend was cute. Not that Fabian could ever work up the courage to tell him to his face. He was still a coward in that regard. Far too afraid and confused to ruin what he and Riz have with all these pesky, lovey-dovey feelings. No, he was content to just watch. To keep safe. For now and forever.

Before long, the cooking pot was empty, only the sticky remnants of the oatmeal left clung to the pot’s insides, and their bellies were full. As Riz yawned, large and cat-like, Fabian moved to take the cooking pot and head back outside to fill it with more snow. Planning on washing it out with the boiled snow in the morning for their breakfast. Which, now that he thinks about it, will be a lot less tasty than their dinner. Thanks to them using up all their natural sweeteners.

Hmm.

Well, that was a problem for morning Fabian.

This Fabian was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to fall dead asleep. And he wasn’t the only one.

Once he got back in and hung the pot over the fire, when he went to say something to Riz, Fabian found him curled up on the mattress, passed out. Snoring the night away. Fabian smiled at the sight and gave a nod, more to himself than anything. Quest completed successfully. Time for bed.

As quietly as he could, Fabian brought one of the old wooden chairs over and placed it as close to the fire as he could get it. Settling himself down on it, he tried his best to get comfortable but eventually gave up and simply tried to get some sleep. Nodding off moments later to the sound of Riz’s snores and the glow of the firelight.

“Fabian?”

Maybe a couple hours later, Fabian awoke.

Groggy and half-asleep, he pried his eyes open to find a concerned, shivering Riz in front of him and a low burning fire to his side. And though it took his mind a moment to fire back up, Fabian jumped to his feet and rushed to the fireplace.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Clumsily reaching and fumbling for another log before tossing it into the hearth. “Sorry, The Ball. Just one moment.” Fabian said as he reached for the fire poker and started jabbing it into the log. Hazily wondering if he could give a fire bardic inspiration to last longer. He waved a hand at Riz. “Go back to bed, I’ve got it.”

But Riz didn’t move.

He stood there, bathed in the fiery orange glow of the hearth and asked, “Why were you sleeping on the chair?”

A beat.

“Where else I am supposed to sleep?” He answered with another question. Something he knew Riz hated unless he was the one doing it. Riz tilted his head to the side and he scrunched up his face before he took a pointed look at the mattress and then back to him. Fabian smiled queasily. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, I—” Fabian gulped. “—I’d take up a lot of space. On the matress that is.”

“I woudn’t mind,” Riz said quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth. “Goblins sleep in piles for warmth, even the ones that live up here in the cold. So…”

“Is that right?” Fabian asked. Riz nodded. Well… if he was fine with it. “Okay then.”

Timidly, Fabian followed Riz back to the mattress. Though he hesitated as he watched Riz get back under the battle sheet and the threadbare blanket.

Furrowing his brows, Riz reached out with his claws and gave his arm a tug. With his eight strength, it didn’t do much but urge Fabian forward. “We don’t have all night. Get in.”

“Alright, alright. Bossy much?” Fabian whined though he hurried to follow Riz’s orders. Slipping under the blanket and battle sheet, he had to stifle a groan as the magical heat of Nar sunk into his skin.

Almost instantly, Riz settled close to him, to his chest. Resting his head underneath Fabian’s chin before curling up into a ball, his tail winding around one of his legs. Without even thinking, Fabian wrapped his arms around him and tucked him deeper into the embrace, hiking up his knees to curl around him. It all felt so right. Like pieces of a puzzle slotting together. Perfect and satisfying. As if this was meant to be.

Finally at peace, Fabian basked in how correct this all felt. In the quiet of the cottage, the freezing wind still howling all around them, he’d never felt as untouchable as he did now. And looking down at Riz, an almost serene expression on his sleeping face, Fabian hoped he felt that way too.

One last thing, before he drifted off to sleep as well, Fabain kissed the top of Riz’s head and squeezed him a little tighter. Slipping off into unconsciousness, he only half noticed Riz squirming a bit in his hold before he felt a brush of lips on his jawline, heard a whispered, “Thanks, Fabes.”, and had one last thought.

Huh. Maybe someone heard his prayers after all.

And then,

Black.

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first d20 fic and though i know the fabriz fandom is quite small now, i look forward to enjoying Junior Year with all of you. Don't be a stranger! I'd love to hear what you think and if you have any requests, i'd be open to hearing and possibly writing them! Thanks again!

#fabriz #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #fantasy high #fanfic #fabian x riz #my fics #heyyyy #yeah i write too!!#and it's the classic stuck in a snow storm plot!!#whatever shall out boys do??#i really do hope you all enjoy it!!

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