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It wasn’t how Orym had intended for Dorian to hear of his death, it wasn’t how Orym had intended for any of this to happen at all. If it had been up to him, if he had just a moment more, he would’ve given Dorian a proper goodbye. It was what he deserved. Instead Dorian had only heard Orym’s final words, followed by the final blow that left Orym cold on the ground, because Orym had accidentally activated the Sending Stone in an attempt to say goodbye to Dorian before his life was cruelly taken from him.
“We’ve met before.” A stranger’s voice, someone Dorian wouldn’t recognize. The voice would sound rough coming through the Sending Stone, Orym had wondered if Dorian would even be able to make out the words clearly enough to understand what was happening.
“Yeah.” Orym’s voice, a voice that Dorian would recognize anywhere, even if it came through rough and crackly through the Sending Stone. The single word was followed by a sharp gasp of pain. There was a muffled sob from far off in the distance.
If it were up to Orym, that wasn’t how his final words to Dorian would have gone in the slightest. He would have changed everything about it if he could have.
“I’m so sorry,” he would have said. “I tried to do everything right for you,” he would have sworn. “Please take good care of them for me,” he would have asked. “I miss you, I love you,” he would have confessed.
In his final moments of consciousness, Orym’s mind wandered from the words he regretted not saying to those he would be leaving behind. To those he would be disappointing.
Orym thought of Keyleth, the Voice of the Tempest. He had worked so hard to serve at her side, and he had only ever wanted to make her proud. He hoped that Imogen would be able to send word to her that he didn’t make it, that he had failed her. Orym did not want to live in a world where he failed the Tempest, perhaps his death was the gods way of showing mercy for the poor little fighter.
Orym next thought of Derrig, Nel, Maeve, Lita, and Berenie. His family. The ones who took him in when he needed a family and stability the most. They had taught Orym everything he knew, yet it still wasn’t enough for him to make it out of this mess alive. At least he would see Derrig again. He hoped that he had made Derrig proud.
Orym then thought of the Crown Keepers. Of Opal, Dariax, and Fy’ra Rai. He knew Dorian would take good care of them, he was a natural leader after all, yet Orym still felt great shame at the fact that he never got to say a proper goodbye to his first real friends outside of Zephrah. Orym had only ever wanted the best for this group of friends of his. He hoped that they were safe, wherever they were.
Then Orym found himself thinking of Bell’s Hells. Bertrand Bell, who he had only known for a short period of time before he as well had met an untimely demise, was a noble and honourable man. Chetney Pock O’Pea, a hardworking and seemingly gruff man who had a soft spot for the ones he loved. Orym was grateful that he was included in that. Fresh Cut Grass, who was struggling to accept the darker parts of himself yet would still never let Orym down. Ashton Greymoore, who never said no to a challenge and would protect their family no matter how dire things seemed. Orym admired him deeply for this. Laudna, terrifying and easily underestimated yet one of the most powerful members of their party. Imogen Temult, Orym knew that she would get them out of this situation with her sheer bravery and strength. Fearne Calloway, how Orym would miss Fearne Calloway. So full of light and full of love, he knew she would keep the party going after Orym’s death.
This group of misfits, this group of weirdos, this group of wonderful people had quickly became a family to Orym. They didn’t know everything, but they knew enough. They never pushed Orym into doing something that he was reluctant to do. They cared for him, they protected him, they loved him. Orym only worried that even his death wouldn’t be enough to repay them for everything they had all done for him. He hoped only that the gods would treat them kindly after his passing.
Orym remembered Will, how could he ever forget Will? Will was the first man Orym had ever loved, he taught Orym how to truly live life to the fullest and to love freely without regrets. Orym was ecstatic to see Will again after having missed his husband so deeply for the last six years. The only fear in his heart was having to tell his husband that he had failed him, that there had been no vengeance or justice for a cruelly unfair death. No matter his fear, he could not wait to see his Big Moon again.
Then there was Dorian Storm. There was always Dorian Storm. Though being the second man that Orym had loved in his lifetime, Orym loved him no less than he had loved Will. Dorian was charming and confident, he was smarter than he ever gave himself credit for and was more than capable when it came to holding his own in combat. Dorian always saw the best in Orym, and Orym had only ever seen the best in Dorian. It pained Orym to know that Dorian wouldn’t be getting the goodbye he deserved, it was hardly a goodbye at all, but he knew Dorian would take good care of his family and they all would do the same for Dorian.
Though guilt and regret weighed heavily on him due to the fact that he would be unable to give anyone a proper goodbye, it was all the more heavier because he wouldn’t be able to give Dorian a proper goodbye. Maybe Dorian knew of Orym’s feelings for him, gods knew only how lucky Orym would be if that was a conversation that he could’ve avoided. Though perhaps right now he would rather have that particular conversation with Dorian than be where he was at this moment. He should have told him sooner. He should have been honest. Orym would have given his life for this man, he would have given his life to this man. If only he had been given the chance to say as much. His chest tightened and tears began to build up in his eyes as he thought of the things he should have done, yet didn’t. He thought of his deepest regrets. There was nothing he could do about it now.
The battle raged on around Orym, the cries and screams and shouts of his family sounding muted and muffled around him. There was nothing left he could do, and that was a feeling that was both terrifying and comforting to him. He had given it his all, he had done everything that he could have and it still wasn’t enough. Perhaps he simply was not meant to be the hero this time. Orym had done his best, and he could at least find solace in that.
Darkness appeared at the corners of Orym’s vision. His eyes weighed heavily with exhaustion and he let them close. His breathing began to slow. All of the adrenaline from the day's events began to leave him as exhaustion overtook him. A comforting warmth washed over Orym, it felt not dissimilar to the warmth of a familiar blanket. With one final inhale and exhale, the last bit of breath left Orym’s lungs. The last of his life had left him as he lay on the battlefield, and Orym finally felt at peace after having fought so hard for the longest time.