Chapter Text
Fabian Aramais Seacaster was destined to be GREAT! Or, at least, that’s what his Papa always proclaimed. He was “Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster,” His Papa would tell him, “and someday, he would be a Captain. A Captain of his own crew who respected and practically worshipped him for all his glory, but most importantly, they would be his family. Closer to him than his own blood.” And Fabian dreamed of it ever since. Fabian’s Papa was his inspiration. He was exactly who Fabian aspired to be.
His Mama, on the other hand? Well, she didn’t matter much in Fabian’s life. She didn’t care beyond telling him to do better occasionally, or doting on him around her friends. Which Fabian found strange considering he assumed she avoided him to save her image. Perhaps the Motherly “I saved a child and gave him a good life” view was all she wanted. A PR stunt. Bring more money in. But Fabian didn’t care. If his Mama wished to idle the hours in her stupid sensory deprivation egg in some silken bathing garb, ignoring her child unless she needed something, then Fabian would be perfectly fine with his Papa and Cathilda.
Fabian had been convinced between the ages of four and six that his wonderful halfling maid, Cathilda, was his Mama . He had been made to spend more time with his actual Mama just to convince him that this motherly figure—around much more than his actual Mama —was actually not biologically related to him. This had completely confused little Fabian Seacaster, but he’d understood eventually. Cathilda was still much more a parent than Hallariel Seacaster ever was, and Fabian decided from a young age that he would let Hallariel know every time she tried to rekindle a relationship. Fabian knew the concept of found family already.
But Fabian had more important things to dwell on than disappointing family—it was the first day at Augefort Adventuring Academy, where he would finally learn how to be as good an adventurer as his Papa!! Fabian stretched languidly, bathing in the morning rays as he flexed every muscle he could whilst ensnared and entangled in silken bedsheets. His ear twitched—something “so un-elf-like”, his Mama would say—as Fabian listened to the birds chirping outside, enjoying the melody as he ignored the need to get up. The drapes around his canopy fluttered, carrying the morning breeze from an ajar window. He allowed himself a few minutes extra rest amongst his cocoon of soft pillows and warm blankets before a knock at the door promptly shook him awake.
After another stretch, Fabian leaped out of bed with as much agility as he could without becoming tangled in the drapes or toppling over from overexhaustion. Cathilda was at the door, like she was every morning, with a tray of his favourite breakfast prepared exactly the way he liked it. Though, this morning, she seemed to have prepared something sweeter than his usual taste.
“Oh, Master Fabian!” She called, beaming at Fabian as he opened the door, “I know it’s the first day at your wonderful new school, so I hope you don’t mind that I’ve put something together. It’s different from your usual taste, my dear. Just some pastries I whipped up this morning! But, it’d be no bother to fetch something more to your taste, dear.”
Fabian beamed back, gazing upon the feast of pastries with wonder and marvel in his eyes. Fabian was usually a creature of habit, but this looked positively delectable! There was no way he could resist stealing a few for later, but he also noted his busy day. The perfect excuse for theft, in his opinion.
“Oh, Cathilda!” Fabian exclaimed, embracing the maid enthusiastically, “This is wonderful!! You have truly outdone yourself.”
Fabian smiled widely, showing off his teeth before catching himself with another of his Mama ’s quips about Elven culture. Fabian’s smile faltered, and he became aware of the fact that he should probably have been ready roughly five minutes ago.
“I shall eat this later, Cathilda, but for now, I must get ready. A day of adventuring awaits!” Fabian beams again, this time with less teeth, and bounds over to his dresser, and then the bathroom.
His bedroom is… a little bit of a trip hazard, but it’s as ornate as it usually is. The ajar window is closed now, replaced by the opening of his balcony door. The wood beneath his feet transitions to carpet as he bounds over to his bed to grab his sword hung carefully above his pillows, and then shifts back to wood as he leaves his blade in a beautifully ornate leather sheath resting by the door.
The sun, still rising, bounced off the screen of his—frankly too large—computer and illuminated just how messy the young boy leaves his bed. He gracefully ignored the clothes helpfully left beside the dresser as opposed to in it, and instead just entered the bathroom with the clothes he planned to wear in hand.
Like everything else in his room, his bathroom was ornate, tiled to the nines and decorated with expensive paintings. Fabian needed everything to his liking, and nowadays, that was whatever would please his Mama. Which meant fancy. Too fancy. But, true to his adoration of his Papa, Fabian kept things pirate-y enough that his parentage was glaringly obvious.
Fabian tries not to wince at how unkempt he looks in the bathroom mirror, because unlike his Elven Mama he aspires to be like, he needs sleep. His hair was a mess, his expression tired, Just another reason for his Mama to ignore him. He wasn’t up to her standards of perfection. Fabian was learning not to care. But Fabian knew the reason his Mama was ignoring him wasn’t up to just not being perfect.
Because the angled, slightly anxious, long-eared face looking back at him in the mirror was that of a Goblin, not an Elf. Or a Human. Or even a half-Elf! He was a Goblin, and that embarrassed his Mama so greatly. It was a fact that, despite being told countless times by his Papa and Cathilda that he was still a legitimate son of Seacaster, dragged him down. He wasn’t the great Fabian Aramais Seacaster to the world, he was just some Goblin kid his Papa took pity on when he was a baby.
Truth be told, Fabian did almost claw the other eye from Bill Seacaster’s head when he was just a baby, securing himself worthy of mercy, but he still wished every time he saw a shooting star, or on his birthday candles that he could be a legitimate half-elf son of Seacaster.
Instead, Fabian brushed his sharp teeth, wrestled his double-jointed legs and his tail into a pair of athletic leggings, and pulled on a tank top that showed off his hard-earned muscles just enough. He brushed his unkempt hair down just enough that he looked handsome, but that his horns wouldn’t show.
When he was done making himself look as presentable as possible, Fabian tried—not for the first time—to cut his claws. Of course his stupid durable Goblin claws didn’t want to be cut, and the clippers he’d used had cut him so badly he’d had to try his best at a healing spell, so Fabian settled instead for hiding his tail as best as possible instead. Any way to appear more normal without Cathilda chastising him gently.
Fabian knew he was cool. He was the son of Bill Seacaster, the best pirate who ever lived, of course he was cool! But he was also a Goblin. And Goblins carried a certain theme. They were crafty and sneaky, often falling under the evil alignment, often seen in villains’ armies and judged first when things went missing or wrong. Fabian hated the surrounding stigma, but he also had to convince himself that his title would protect him, because it would. They wouldn’t dare touch the son of Seacaster.
And so Fabian triumphantly left the bathroom, grabbing three pastries from the tray as he practically bounded downstairs, unsteady on paw-like feet. He would grab shoes when he was downstairs, for now, he was so busy shoving food in his mouth, in his distracted, perceptionless wisdom, Fabian ran into somebody. Somebody tall, and slender, who walked around with an air of superiority.
Somebody whose voice cut through his good mood like a hot knife through butter.
His Mama .
“Oh, Fabian!” His Mama cooed, making Fabian’s excited smile falter, “Fabian, darling. I hear it’s your first day at that dear Adventuring school?”
She’s heard. Not she knows. His Mama has *heard* it’s his first day. Fabian expertly dodges out of the way of an attempt at affection, and scowls. He hates the way she treats Aguefort as this quaint little school as if this wasn’t *everything* to him. Becoming an adventurer to prove he was worthy of calling himself a Seacaster was everything he wanted. His Mama could belittle it as much as she wanted, but Fabian’s aspiration was not to be quelled.
Fabian’s Mama frowned slightly, that irritating look of “I’m pretending to care about my son, but he’s making it very difficult” crossing her face. Fabian took some pride in making her frustrated. She didn’t deserve to get any satisfaction out of ignoring her son. Fabian’s tail would’ve been flicking menacingly behind him if he wasn’t keeping it firmly hidden under a jacket tied around his waist. His amber eyes were narrowed in judgement, but Fabian put on a fake smile and forced himself to engage in pleasant morning conversation.
“Yes, Mama,” Fabian practically hissed, “Aguefort is a fine adventuring academy, and I am thoroughly looking forward to my first day. Herzon and I have been training intensely!”
Fabian’s Mama put on a fake smile and pretended to care as Fabian fiddled with the sword on his hip. Fabian always loved to show off anything his Papa got him around his Mama. Before his Mama had a chance to add anything else to the conversation, the booming footsteps of Bill Seacaster, man of the Manor came loudly forth. Hallariel took that as her chance to avoid any more conversations with her son, blowing her “dear husband” a kiss before retreating to her egg as she usually did. Typical Hallariel.
“My dear, darlin’ boy!” Bill booms, clapping Fabian on the back sharply. Fabian, however unstable, keeps his footing and beams up at his Papa, sharp teeth on full display. He doesn’t feel any need to hide his nature with his Papa, especially when his Papa is so proud. “There he is! Oh, my pride and joy! The apple of my eye!”
Bill Seacaster is a huge, tough hulk of a man, with a thick, wavy beard, worn, tan skin, and a constant sparkle in dark brown eyes. He seemed to always wear his signature grey coat, except for when his coat blows up, gets damaged, or Bill just gets bored by it. His tricorne hat sits atop his head, eye patch covering his missing eye. A scar peeks from beneath it, trailing down his cheek from where baby Fabian damn near cut his Papa’s cheek open
“Papa!” Fabian calls back, allowing his tail to swish freely, “Oh, Papa, you do know how to flatter.”
“My darlin’ Fabian…” Bill began, “It’s your first day at Adventurin’ school today, and I couldn’t be more proud!”
Fabian’s tail slips free from its hiding place and swishes behind him as he soaks in his Papa’s praise like the sun.
“Now, today is your first day of school, all right. Now, I never had much in the way of book learnin', never was raised in no school of any kind, so, here's what you do on your first day, all right? Now I've asked around. You find the biggest and meanest man there.” Bill spoke with earnest, “Go up to him, and you drive your fist hard and strong right into his stomach and send him to his knees!”
Fabian nodded determinedly, frowning slightly with this duty.
“Of course, Papa, just like you would’ve done.”
Bill barked a laugh and patted Fabian on the back again. His expression was that of pride and joy, with clear adoration for his son. Even with his doubts, Fabian couldn’t help but feel happy.
“Look, I got yous a present for your first day.” Bill rummaged around in a bag slung over a shoulder, clearly searching for something specific. When he found what he was looking for, a look of “Aha!” crossed his face, and he produced a neatly folded, red and white letter jacket.
“Now, it was rather difficult to find a jacket in your size,” Fabian made a small sound, somewhere between a growl and a hiss, “but that darlin’ tailor down at the Gilded Coin helped put somethin’ together.”
Fabian’s eyes opened wide, examining every inch of the beautiful red jacket like it were gold. He wanted so very badly to snatch it from his Papa immediately, but he waited until he was offered it before discarding the jacket around his waist in favour of this new, soft, beautiful display of sports team loyalty.
“Now, o’ course, you’re not officially on the team yet, but I expect yous to go to tryouts to show them idiots what’s what, alright?” Bill rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, a warm smile creasing his face, “Just a formality, o’ course. You’re practically guaranteed a place wit’ your athletics.”
“Of course, Papa.” Fabian nodded determinedly, “A formality. I have every skill needed to be captain of that team!”
“Well, o’ course! You’re my son, a direct reflection o’ me!” Bill let out a bark of a laugh, not noticing the way his son’s smile faltered. “Now, in addition to your skill and your talent and your raw power as a master of combat, I’ve also payed a large sum of money to the Coach. A Bribe.”
“Ah.” Fabian replied, slightly dejectedly.
“A bribe.”
“Of course, Papa.”
“An Illegal bribe.”
“Naturally, Papa.”
“You know what we always say!” Bill beamed, “The relationship between luck and talent?”
“Is 500 gold pieces!” Fabian beams.
“Ah, my boy!” Bill lead his son along, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Papa.”
Bill’s smile hasn’t faltered the entire conversation. He only stops to press a kiss to Fabian’s forehead, before it’s right back to a smile that could rival a star.
“Hurry along then, dear boy. Go get ready. I’ll be awaiting tales of your adventures!”
Fabian nodded sharply, running a hand through his hair before bounding off to finish getting ready. His Papa was proud of him. His Papa believed in him. His Papa has rekindled his excitement about Augefort, because he was Fabian Aramais Seacaster, and he wouldn’t put up with anyone’s jealousy.