Work Text:
Orym stilled as he reached the edge of the forest line, looking up at the ivy-strewn gateway that marked the Ashari’s resting place. When he’d suggested this he knew it would be hard but being here in the flesh was very different to just thinking about it. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he felt a hand gently rest on his shoulder.
‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’, Dorian looked down at him with concern, ‘We won’t judge if it’s too much’.
Orym gave a weak smile as he placed a hand over Dorian’s, ‘Thank you but it’s fine, really. Maybe a few months ago I would have said no, but now’, Orym paused as he gave a deep breath to steady himself, ‘I think I can handle it’.
‘If you need to do it on your own we can wait here for you’, Fearne offered.
Orym shook his head, ‘No, I want you to meet him. I think he’d like to know I’m not alone’.
‘Ok’, Fearne nodded as she began to craft a lavender sword lily, handing it to Orym as she finished, ‘Just tell us where to go’.
Orym cradled the flower to his chest, looking between his two best friends in silent awe. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such faithful friends, but he was grateful for their presence. Turning on his heel he began to walk towards the spot he hadn’t seen since he day he’d left Zephrah all those years ago.
As they followed their halfling friend, Dorian and Fearne couldn’t help but be overawed by the beauty of the place. Everywhere they looked was nothing but a glorious array of flowers, the warm sunshine elevating the feeling of life they evoked. There were so many varieties and colours, it reminded Fearne of the Feywild almost if not for how orderly it seemed to be. A cry overhead alerted the group’s attention, all three of them looking up as a jet-black raven flew through the garden towards a tall oak tree, where several other ravens were currently perched. The tree itself was adorned with colourful banners, and as the raven landed Orym knew it was watching over the small pool of blood that was inset into the tree itself.
While his friends marvelled at the garden Orym began to go through what he wanted to say, thoughts overlapping as his nerves started to kick in. He’d said he was ready to Dorian. He was ready. But gods if every step didn’t feel like lead right now. Before Orym knew it, they had reached their destination.
Fearne and Dorian watched as Orym paused for a moment, before kneeling down in front of a patch of beautiful gerbera daisies, a mixture of reds, pinks and yellows painting the petals. Orym lay down the sword lily amongst them silently, making sure not to damage the other flowers. For a few moments he remained silent, placing his palms against the soil in a moment of connection.
‘You know, in the Ashari we mark the lives of our loved ones with flowers’, Orym sat back on his haunches as he spoke, ‘We believe flowers hold special meaning, so we pick those that represent the person who has left us’.
Fearne kneeled down beside him, Mister scuttling down onto her lap, ‘What did you pick for your husband?’.
Orym felt a tear track down his cheek as he answered, ‘My husband, Will, he was probably the most enthusiastic man I’ve ever met. I don’t think anyone smiled as much as he did. I remember our first date, I thought something was wrong because he didn’t stop smiling the whole night’, he snorted as the memory flooded back, ‘He told me later it was because he was so excited I’d said yes to going out with him he couldn’t contain himself’.
‘So it represents happiness?’, Dorian asked curiously.
‘Sort of’, Orym looked up to Dorian as he explained, ‘They represent cheerfulness, but also loyal love. When Will loved someone he stood by them, no questions asked. It’s one of the things I loved most about him. It’s also what made him such a fantastic guard’.
‘Is that how he died?’.
‘Fearne!’, Dorian exclaimed, his eyes shifting to Orym in alarm.
‘What?’, Fearne tilted her head with a bemused expression.
‘You can’t just ask that’, Dorian started to explain, head in hands.
‘It’s ok Dorian’, Orym patted Dorian’s thigh reassuringly, ‘You need to know anyway, but more importantly I want you to know’.
Orym’s hand clasped the tattoo that adorned his arm, gripping it tightly as if to make sure it wouldn’t leave. Dorian and Fearne fell silent, waiting for him to speak. For a moment, all they could hear was the wind blowing through the garden and the intermittent cries of the ravens. Eventually, Orym began to speak.
‘You already know parts of it. In the meeting with the Voice of the Tempest today, she spoke about the attack on Zephrah 6 years ago. It was like nothing we’d ever experienced before, not even the Chief who’s defeated countless enemies. Of course, I did my duty and protected my home. As did Will’.
Fearne and Dorian exchanged a look as they started to put the pieces together, faces dropping as the magnitude of what Orym was saying hit them.
‘Over the years Will and I had kind of developed a strategy in battle, he’d bait our opponents into fighting him and while they were distracted I’d come from behind and finish it. It was the perfect battle strategy. Until it wasn’t’.
Orym’s eyes scrunched closed as the familiar pain hit, his mind bringing up the image that was forever seared into his brain. The screams ringing out and the blood-red sky as guard after guard was slain. The roar of the Earth Elemental as his leader crushed everything in her wake. The terror as his opponents melted like ice. Digging his nails into his palm, Orym opened his eyes and continued on, trying desperately to avoid the wave of emotion he knew was coming.
‘That night everything was happening so quickly. I was doing my best to be inconspicuous, get into the right position, but there were so many enemies it was impossible. I heard Will give our signal, and I tried to get there, I did’, ‘ Orym’s voice choked up as hot, heavy tears began to fall, ‘But before I could reach him he was just…gone’.
As his voice trailed off there was silence, Fearne and Dorian too stunned to say anything. Then, Orym felt two pairs of arms wrap around him tightly.
‘I’m so sorry Orym’, Dorian whispered softly at his back, ‘No-one should go through what you did’.
Orym gave a sorrowful smile, ‘Maybe not, but I knew it could happen, we both did’.
‘It still must have hurt an awful lot though’, Fearne rested her head on Orym’s as she pulled him closer.
‘It did. It still does’, Orym conceded, ‘But there are days now where I feel it less, especially since meeting you and the others. Besides I know that for the little time I did have him, we led a good life that I'll cherish always’.
‘I wish we could have met him’, Fearne relaxed her grip, leaving Orym to wriggle out of the hug to face his friends, ‘He sounds wonderful’.
Orym wiped the last of his tears away with a chuckle, ‘Will would have loved you guys, he’d have fit right in our chaotic little group. I can’t tell you how many times I had to drag him out of a mess he’d gotten himself into’.
‘Is that why you’re so good at wrangling us together then?’, Dorian said with a wry smile.
Orym shrugged, ‘What can I say, I had practice’.
‘Thank you for telling us Orym, really’, Dorian said, his tone turning serious, ‘I think we understand what the real stakes are now’.
Fearne nodded fervently, ‘Hmm, and we’ll do our best to help you’.
‘Thank you, both of you’.
‘Anyway, you said you were going to introduce us?’, Dorian said with a raised eyebrow.
‘Right, I almost forgot’.
Orym rocked to his feet and took hold of Dorian and Fearne’s hands, looking down to the flowers that were the last mark of his husband. The vibrant colours warmed his heart. He was so glad that Derrig and Nell had agreed with his choice of flowers for their son. There truly was nothing that fit Will better. Glancing up at his friends, his heart warmed even more as he caught Dorian’s look of encouragement and Fearne’s eagerness. He knew it had been the right choice to bring them here. Clearing his throat, Orym began to speak.
‘Will, I’d like you to meet my friends…..’.