Chapter Text
Orym didn’t end up going far, merely escaping up the stairs of the tavern and shutting himself up in the room he’d gotten for the night. Tucked away in the corner next to the bed, Orym sat on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, making himself look smaller than he already was. It was ridiculous, so ridiculous of him to hide away in his room like a child, but he couldn’t bear to look Dorian in the eye and he hoped that he could put it off as long as possible.
He was sure Laudna and Ashton were going to tell Dorian everything, that his running was a clear admission of guilt and it would be all of the invitation they needed to tell him exactly what was going on.
“Orym, are you in there?” Dorian’s voice called out from the other side of the door, startling Orym and causing him to jump. There was a soft, inquisitive knock on the wood. “Orym, it’s me. Let me in.”
He didn’t sound angry but Orym couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion. Maybe Laudna and Ashton hadn’t told him after all which was both a blessing and a curse. If they hadn’t told him, that meant they expected Orym to tell him and he’d rather Dorian not know at all.
“G-Go away!” Orym replied, voice high and shaky. He cursed himself, wishing he could at least sound kind or even convincing, but he couldn’t even do that. “I’m fine, really!”
A long silence followed his response and for a moment, Orym believed Dorian had walked away. Part of him was relieved that he didn’t have to explain but another part, a much quieter, logical part, screamed for Dorian to come back, help him, and tell him how to fix all of this.
That quieter part of him won in the end when the sound of something sliding into the keyhole of the door drew his attention.
Tk…tk…tk…
Someone was picking the lock on his door.
Tk…tk…tk…
Someone was going to walk in and see him like this.
Tk…tk…tk…
He needed to get out, he needed to run–
Click.
The door swung open and waiting on the other side was none other than Dorian Storm.
“Did you really think I couldn’t break in here?” Dorian asked from the doorway, sounding more annoyed at the inconvenience than anything, and Orym squeezed his eyes shut, face tilted downward. “Are you truly trying so hard to avoid me?”
“I’m not avoiding you–”
“And now you’re lying to me?” Dorian sounded hurt and it made Orym’s heart ache.
“Dorian, it’s not–”
“Did I do something wrong?” Dorian asked next, desperate. “Are you angry with me?”
“ No , no, of course not!” Orym exclaimed. “It’s nothing to do with you!”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s me !” Orym hadn’t meant to shout but it had torn out of him like it’d been desperate to be heard. He choked out a sob, pressing his forehead more firmly against his knees. “There’s something wrong with me!”
There was silence, one that was only broken by the sound of Dorian’s boots against the floor as he crossed the room, stopping only when he reached Orym. There was a faint rustle of clothing when, Orym assumed, he shifted to kneel before him judging by how close his voice was the next time he spoke.
“Something wrong with you?” Dorian repeated, confused. “What do you think is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Orym moaned. “Please, just go away.”
“Won’t you at least look at me?” Dorian pleaded, trying to meet Orym’s gaze. There he was, on his knees before him, keeping him trapped but still not intruding on his space with touch. “Orym, please, why won’t let me see you?”
“Because then you’d know.”
“Know what?”
“The things I’ve done.”
“Oh, Orym,” Dorian sighed and those two words carried so much weight to them. “What happened?”
“I’ve done so many awful things,” Orym told him, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. His voice wobbled, choking out words around the lump in his throat. “I’m not who I used to be and I’m…I’m scared that when you look at me, you won’t see me anymore because of what you know.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Dorian admonished. “Who else would I see?”
“A monster ,” Orym replied, nearly spitting out the word. It burned like poison on his tongue. “A selfish thing so hellbent on revenge that they endanger their friends and kill without mercy or thought.”
“Did you ever think for a moment that I should be the one to make those decisions for myself?” Dorian asked and Orym could practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. His hands came to rest on his knees, long, pale blue fingers squeezing reassuringly. “Let me in, Orym. Let me help you.”
Sometimes, though rare, Dorian reminded him of Will.
There was never a problem that Will didn’t think he could solve, never a moment when Orym felt at his lowest that Will couldn’t find a way to worm his way into his space and build him back up again.
Sometimes Orym wondered if Will had somehow sent Dorian to take his place, to love and protect him. Sometimes he wondered if the Gods themselves had put them both into the world just so that they could be together because Dorian understood him as much as Will once did and how could he ever think that Dorian would think differently of him for the things he’d done?
Will wouldn’t. Dorian wouldn’t either.
So Orym looked up.
Dorian looked almost like he did the last time he’d seen him before they’d said their goodbyes. His hair was a bit longer, braided neatly over one shoulder, and his eyes were tired, but he was still so beautiful. His smile was there, small but genuine, and he looked at Orym with all of the love in the world.
“There you are,” he cooed. “My little Orym.”
And Orym shattered.
The tears welled up and fell faster than he could contain them, dripping down his cheeks as a sob began to bubble up in the back of his throat. Dorian’s expression quickly shifted from concern to alarm, hands hovering as if not sure what he should do next.
“Alright, alright, hold on,” Dorian said, keeping his voice calm but also loud enough that Orym could still hear his words. His hands eventually found his shoulders, pulling, adjusting, and coaxing until Orym had somehow found himself in Dorian’s lap with Dorian now on the floor, pressed into the corner. Dorian’s arms were strong and steady around him, one around his waist while the hand of the other came around to cradle the back of his head as he wailed out weeks worth of anguish into his chest. “There, now, I’ve got you. Let it out.”
Orym wept until the tears ceased to flow. He wept until Dorian’s flawless tunic was stained with a damp mixture of tears and snot but if it made him uncomfortable, Dorian didn’t say a word to make it known. He merely held him and waited.
Orym told him everything.
He told him about dying at Otohan’s hand, seeing Will, and how beautiful it all was. He talked about how for a moment before the light called him back to the land of the living, he wanted to stay there and not return to the life he’d been dealt but Will wouldn’t let him.
He told Dorian about the events of the Solstice, how he couldn’t cope with the separation from the Bells Hells, and how for a long time, he’d thought they’d all been killed.
He spoke of Caleb Widogast, Beauregard, Lady Keyleth, and her raven-haired guardian. He didn’t know what had become of them or if they were even still alive.
He spoke of Deni$e and Prism, their strength and bravery during such a trying time.
He broke down while speaking of Bor’dor, the soldier of the Ruby Vanguard who’d had nothing left to lose. He told Dorian of how he’d joined their group with every intention to kill them to avenge his fallen friends but they were quicker, stronger, and too stubborn to die. He admitted that he’d been too angry at being betrayed by someone he’d trusted, blinded by fury that someone who had been a part of the mission that took his husband and father away from him had the audacity to blame him for the things he’d done in retaliation.
He wept as he recounted Bor’dor’s murder, how they’d all stood there and mercilessly ended his life. He spoke of how for a moment in time, Orym had lost himself in his anger and no longer saw that man as a person but as a thing who deserved everything he had coming to him.
Finally, he spoke of Laudna, who had overcome so much, finally knowing her own happiness, and how he’d looked her in the eye and asked her to unleash the darkness inside of her in order to land the killing blow. He recalled the achingly familiar surge of purple light and how he and Laudna had barely spoken in the aftermath of that encounter.
Dorian didn’t say much of anything during Orym’s monologue, merely listening in silence while his hands smoothed gently over his hair and back. He would hum thoughtfully when he received certain information and whisper gentle reassurance would lose himself to hysterical sobs again.
“I’ve done so many terrible things, Dorian,” Orym whispered, his head resting in the curve between the genasi’s neck and shoulder. “So many awful things. I don’t even know who I am anymore. What have I become? What would Will think of me now?”
“Stop it,” Dorian said sharply, at last breaking his silence and startling Orym out of his thoughts. “You know better than anyone what Will would think and he certainly wouldn’t be thinking poorly of you.”
“But–”
“Maybe you made some poor choices, maybe you have some mistakes to make up for,” Dorian continued. “But Will would never think less of you for the things you’ve done because he knows this isn’t you.”
Orym could hear the unspoken implication behind those words; Dorian wouldn’t think less of him either.
“Will also wouldn’t want you driving yourself to this point because of what happened to him,” Dorian continued and Orym flinched, keeping his face hidden against Dorian’s neck. “Derrig wouldn’t either.”
Orym wanted to be upset, wanted to be angry at Dorian for assuming he would know what Will and Derrig would want. He wanted to shout and scream that the people who took his family from him deserved what they got, that all of the pain they suffered made Orym feel just a little bit better and made up for his losses, helped him sleep better at night.
But…
It didn’t, not really.
In fact, Orym had found it more difficult to sleep, replaying the events over and over again in his head, tossing and turning in his bed all night. The vindication he felt when these people died at his hands was almost non-existent when he saw the haunted look on Laudna’s face, a look he put there because of his own choices.
Dorian was right; Will wouldn’t want this.
So why was he doing it?”
“Would you like me to tell you what I see when I look at you?” Dorian asked curiously, breaking through the endless thoughts of Orym’s inner monologue. “After knowing everything I do now, would you like me to tell you?”
Dorian withdrew his arms but his hands were still gentle as they urged Orym away from him, easing him up until he was sitting up on his own in Dorian’s lap. Orym could only imagine how much of a wreck he looked judging by the size of the stain on Dorian’s shoulder but the genasi merely smiled at him, careful fingers wiping his cheeks and brushing his hair off of his forehead.
Hesitantly, Orym nodded, not quite trusting his voice.
“I see someone who is strong, both in head and heart,” Dorian began, hands settling on the side of his arms and moving slowly up before then moving down. “Someone who doesn’t talk about the things that bother them because they don’t want to burden others with their problems.”
Orym looked down, suddenly finding the shiny, silver clasps of Dorian’s tunic much more interesting. He couldn’t look at him while he spoke so much truth, calling him out about how much he hid deep within himself.
“I see someone who has been hurting for such a long time that when he made a choice, maybe he didn’t make the best one,” he continued. “But I see that he regrets it and that he’s able to change.”
Orym sighed. “ Dorian …”
“You’re not a monster, Orym,” Dorian soothed. “Monsters don't break down in tears and regret their actions. They don’t care what the people in their lives think about them. They just continue to cause pain and that’s not who you are.”
“How do you know?”
“I’d like to think I know you at least a little,” Dorian teased. “I’ve known you long enough.”
“I don’t like hurting people,” Orym admitted, frowning. “But the people who killed Will and Derrig, who hurt Lady Keyleth and the others, they can’t get away with it. They just keep getting away with it.”
“Then we’ll stop them.”
Orym continued to stare at Dorian’s clasps, watching his distorted image in the small reflection. Dorian was right, of course, because he usually was. He was clever, someone who always had a plan, and like Will, would never break a promise.
“But you have to fix things with Laudna and Ashton first,” Dorian said decisively, cupping Orym’s face in his palms and lifting his head until their gazes met again. He was smiling but his tone held an edge of firmness to it, leaving no room for argument. “And when you feel this way about things, you need to tell someone.”
“What if telling someone doesn’t stop me from doing those things again?” Orym whispered, sagging into Dorian’s touch, allowing those hands to hold his face and support him. “What if I do them again because I can’t stop? Because I lose control?”
“Then we’ll find a way to bring you back,” Dorian replied, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “You don’t have to do this alone, Orym.”
Orym closed his eyes, welcoming the closeness that he was able to share with Dorian at that moment. Their foreheads pressed together, the hands cradling his face, and the silence that they sat in was only filled with the sounds of their joint breathing. It was peaceful and soothing, and Orym could feel himself starting to give in to the exhaustion of the day.
“Don’t you fall asleep here,” Dorian murmured, tone light and teasing again. He arranged Orym’s arms with ease so they were draped around his neck. “Come on, hold onto me.”
Dorian shifted his hold, one arm around his waist and the other supporting him from the bottom. It took him a few tries but eventually, Dorian managed to get to his feet with Orym in his arms. Orym let out a grumble of protest at being carried but Dorian merely hushed him, crossing the short distance to the bed. Orym only opened his eyes when he was moved again, feeling the soft cushion of the mattress under his back.
“Shouldn’t I go talk to Ashton and Laudna?” Orym asked him, laying limp on the bed as Dorian pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking it around him snugly. His head was throbbing from the day’s events, he knew he wouldn’t be up for another big discussion but he could certainly make the attempt for the sake of his friends.
“I think we can approach it in the morning,” Dorian said softly, smoothing his hair back. Orym’s eyes felt so heavy, he could barely keep them open, but he didn’t want to look away from Dorian’s face. He’d hate to wake from this wonderful dream. “You’ve had a long day with a lot of realizations. You should get some rest now.”
“Are you going to stay?” Orym murmured and Dorian smiled.
“I might pop down to the tavern for something to eat but I’ll be right back here with you as soon as I’m done.”
“And you’ll be here when I wake up?”
“Of course,” Dorian promised. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
The sincerity, the promise in his voice, could have made Orym weep again if he hadn’t already shed all of the tears he’d had in him. He didn’t deserve such kindness, such love, but here Dorian was, giving it to him without hesitation.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Orym finally closed his eyes, letting the tension slowly leave his shoulders as the embrace of sleep began to envelop him. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Dorian whispered. “Sleep well, Orym.”
In the morning, the group would gather in the privacy of one of the bedrooms to have a much-needed discussion. Orym would apologize for his actions as well as his behavior, and explain the reasoning while admitting there was no real excuse for it.
Maybe his friends would be understanding, maybe they would still be hesitant to forgive, and he wouldn’t blame them, but with Dorian there at his side, maybe the road to forgiveness wouldn’t be such a hardship.
And with that thought comforting him, Orym finally slept.