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For his first night back with Bell’s Hells, Dorian did pretty well for himself. While playing for a crowded tavern, a few gold and silver pieces were passed his way. Plus a few coppers, which he graciously accepted keeping in mind FCG’s peculiar diet. The night was grand; fair drinks, some good laughs with the locals and food that wasn’t half bad. Although most of the warm feelings came from his earlier reunion, that didn’t stop him from living an idyllic bardic night. When he finally made his way back to the Hells’ shared room, Catha had long risen past her zenith, and the cicadas outside took his place as music accompaniment.
He opened the door as quietly as he could, just to find Orym sitting on the far bed with his hand in his lap and armor still strapped on tight. They met eyes and nodded at one another.
As he walked in, he noted Chetney whittling away in the corner paying him no mind, but everyone else was asleep or in stasis. The single soft light of the lantern lit up Laudna and Imogen’s sleeping form in the bed closest to the door. Ashton slept in the cot with their mountain of pillows and FCG stood dormant beside him like a nightstand. Fearne slept face down and naked on Orym’s other side, bedsheets already tossed around in a whirlwind.
Funny, Dorian thought. How things change so much but yet so little .
“What are you doing up?” Dorian asked quietly, setting his lute against the table and the coin bag close to FCG.
Orym shrugged. “First watch.”
Dorian glanced over at Chetney, who managed to sneak a look at him as well. A look that told Dorian that he should press.
“Both of you?” He asked.
Orym looked at his boots as if they held a secret for him. Then, “No… I just didn’t want to go to sleep without you. Felt weird.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I would have come up earlier if I’d known. I’m still on Tal’Dorei time, you know.” Truth be told he was still wide awake, only came up because the group had expressed their worry with staying up too late.
Orym shrugged. “No worries, really.”
“Hm. Well, now we can get some sleep anyways.” Dorian started to undress, pulling off his overcoat and folding it neatly, before noticing Orym staring at him. All throughout the day, Dorian had caught Orym’s gaze, most of the time his expression had been unreadable, but other times he looked so soft and longing. Once before, during lunch, Dorian caught his eyes and winked at him, just to watch Orym smile and look away. Though, something told him that something was on Orym’s mind, and while he’d normally wait for him to say something, the liquor in his belly made him bold.
“What is it?” He asked, a teasing smile peeking through.
“Nothing.” Orym said, but made no move to look away. “You’re just back, is all.”
Dorian had gotten the impression that the Hells didn’t actually think he’d return. The bounty had been a ridiculous—even impossible—amount for someone to accumulate on their own. By all means, Cyrus should have ended up dead and him maybe in the crossfire, but they did it. Dorian had dealt with Hexum directly and all debts were paid. A part of him was saddened to think that Orym and Fearne thought him gone for good, but he was here now, and they could make up for lost time.
“I’m back.” He confirmed with a grin, and then pulled off his mail. Now, with his clunky armor off, he glided over and sat next to Orym. The bed dipped, pulling Orym close to his side. “And you are much too dressed for bed. Would you like me to help?”
Orym touched his chest, almost surprised to find his leather plate still on. “Oh. Right. Um. Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. How much did you have to drink, by the way?” He teased.
Orym smiled and matched his tone. “None, I swear.”
Dorian hummed and made to take Orym’s chest piece off. Orym allowed him to do so, but Dorian felt how he tensed under his touch. So, he made sure to undo the straps with extra care, just as he’d seen Orym do hundreds of times before. The mossy leather had more stitches holding it together, more deep scratches that spoke of stories yet to be shared, but Dorian stored them away to ask about later. The day had been full of talking and… honestly, he didn’t want any more revelations.
“It’s no wonder why you can’t sleep.” He pulled the armor off, and quickly set it next to his own before returning to Orym’s side. “You’re stiff as a board.” Dorian’s hands found Orym’s back, and he dug his thumbs along the ridge of his shoulder blades.
Orym straightened up for a moment, eyes wide in surprise and a little pain, before relaxing into his touch. He looked up at Dorian, lips parted as if he had something to say, but fell silent as Dorian pressed in further. His eyes fluttered closed, and Dorian took it as a sign to continue his massage. He shifted on the bed so he could get a better angle and started to work his way up Orym’s back to his neck. Like a sunflower, Orym leaned into his hands in a rare moment of pure relaxation. Then, as Orym sighed, there was a quiet rumble.
A wisp of a purr, mostly hidden by his exhale, but it grew. Dorian worked the tense cords making up Orym’s body, the only noise between them being the gravely, broken purr and the cicadas outside. Dorian didn’t know if Orym knew he was purring, but he also didn’t have the heart to break the peaceful quiet to point it out. Orym had been tensely silent all day, excited at his return but cagey when it came to catching up. At first Dorian had worried, what if he wasn’t wanted back, what if the group had moved on without him and he was too far to catch up? But all those thoughts melted away with the soft rumble.
After what seemed like hours, Dorian paused his ministrations and knelt to the ground. He started to unlace Orym’s boots and smiled as Orym slowly blinked down at him. He still purred with every inhale and exhale, but it quieted as Dorian finished his previous task of undressing them both for bed.
As much as Dorian tried not to be, he was selfish. He cherished the small moments with Orym and hoarded his happiness and purrs like a dragon with gold. They seemed to be rarer than most gemstones, anyhow. So, Dorian reached up and cupped Orym’s cheek with the goal of stoking the fires again. He had gone months with only 25 words between them, surely, he could have this.
Orym held his hand against his face and breathed faster, making the purrs louder. When he opened his eyes again, Dorian saw a deep well of emotion within them.
How could he purr so loudly, while still looking so sad . Dorian thought.
“I missed you.” He said instead, rubbing his thumb across a new scar.
Orym opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught before he was able to speak. “I missed you so much.”
Dorian didn’t want to pull away. So instead, he leaned forward and kissed Orym’s forehead. His hair had gotten longer and would need a trim soon, but Dorian gladly took the opportunity to card through his hair.
Then, reluctantly, he parted. “I still need to get ready for bed.”
Orym nodded, but held onto his hand until he had to let it go. Dorian striped out of his last layers quickly and exchanged them for his sleepshirt. Orym tossed him his own shirt and sash and Dorian folded them next to his clothes. Then, he returned his focus towards the bed. Orym had scooted back against the pillows and was carefully gathering all of Fearne’s hair to toss to her side of the bed. Dorian thought the effort futile, as they’d be buried in seafoam green by the morning regardless, but joined Orym in his endeavor before collapsing down onto his chest.
Orym welcomed him and started to brush his fingers through his hair. Warmth radiated against Dorian’s cheek, and he relaxed into the steady purring and heartbeat. They lay like that for a long while. Dorian’s body and mind grew heavy, and Orym’s purr quieted down until it was only the barest of exhales.
Vaguely, Dorian heard the pitter patter of Chetney’s shoes across the wooden floorboards.
“It’s good to hear you purr. I honestly didn’t think you were the kind of halfling that could.”
Orym’s voice was thick with sleep. “Yeah…” He said, and nothing more.
The light flickered off, and Dorian fell deep into sleep, more comfortable than he had been in months.
--
Wakefulness came with the feeling of Orym’s hand intertwined with his own. Within the darkness, he felt a calloused thumb slowly stroking his hand, and wondered for a moment if Orym even knew he was doing it. Sometime during the night, they had shifted. Orym now lay within the curve of Dorian’s body, back to chest, with Dorian’s arm draped over his waist. Fearne was somewhere at Dorian’s back, he could feel the warm dip in the bed from where she nested.
He tried to fall asleep again but the steady feeling of Orym rubbing his hands kept him from drifting back into rest. He considered just to lay there and let Orym get his fill of indulgence, but eventually he made his wakeful state known by lacing his fingers through Orym’s own and holding his hand tight.
Orym shifted inward, pressing further against Dorian’s chest.
“Good morning.” Dorian’s words came as barely a whisper.
“Morning.” Orym responded in the same sleepy way. “It’s early for you… you can go back to sleep.”
“Hm. I’m awake now.”
“Hm.” Orym sighed and fell silent. For a moment, Dorian thought he might have fallen asleep in his stead, but eventually Orym shifted again. “I should do my morning workout.”
“Oh, do you want to go for a run or something? We can watch the sunrise.” To be honest, Dorian did not want to move, but he’d gotten into the habit of working out with Orym while with the Crown Keepers, and missed routine. Besides, seeing a Marquet sunrise with Orym sounded lovely.
Orym shook his head. “Too far. I usually just do it in the room… need to stay close by.”
“We could go to the roof. Should be space up there... wouldn’t be hard to get to.”
After a moment to think about it, Orym turned in his arms. His hair was ruffled with sleep, but it was clear he’d been up for a while as Dorian slept. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Together they sat up, stretching their tired limbs and shivering against the sudden exposure to the chill. Ashton, who must have had the last watch, shook their head in disdain as they threw on some clothes. Dorian wrapped his belt and axe to his waist and Orym slid a knife in his boot, but other than that they went to the window dressed lightly. With a click of his heels, Dorian floated up into the air, hair and tunic flowing around him enjoying the weightlessness. Orym fell into his arms in a princess carry and waved to Ashton as they floated up out of the window.
The morning was colder than Dorian would have liked, and he was glad to start moving to combat the chill. While the tavern roof wasn’t ideal for working out, it had a flat space to move around in, and most of it was not covered in animal droppings, which was nice. They also had a clear view of the rising sun, which was starting to turn the sky a light blue. Dorian followed Orym in his workout and proudly kept up with him, even as a bit of Orym’s competitiveness peaked through and he tried to make the workouts harder.
As the sky started to lighten into reds and oranges, they settled by the edge of the roof with a perfect view of the horizon. Orym breathed hard next to him, some sweat gathered on his forehead.
They sat next to each other in silence, listening and observing the world around them waking up. The brightest of the stars vanished, and down below the early risers started their morning. It was peaceful in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Personally, Dorian didn’t know if it was the sunrise, or the company.
Then, Orym leaned into Dorian’s space, laying his head against Dorian’s arm.
“Dorian?” he said in that quiet way that told Dorian he’d been thinking.
“Yeah?”
“I… think I’m ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what? To go back down?” The sun hadn’t even crested the horizon, though Dorian had to admit he was colder now that they weren’t moving as much. He also supposed they were out in the open a bit.
“No…” Orym took a deep breath. “Ready to be in a relationship again.”
Oh.
Dorian considered his answer for a long time. It seemed like years ago that Dorian had almost kissed Orym on their travels to Zephrah. He had hovered so close to Orym that he could see the freckles dotting his cheeks even in the dim moonlight. Their breaths had mingled, and Dorian felt so sure of himself right before Orym placed a finger against his lips in a gentle rejection. It was then that Dorian saw the pain in his eyes, the uncertainty, and he worried he’d messed up their friendship until Orym started talking.
For the first time, he spoke of Will. Of his love and loss, of the way his grief made him leave his home and travel the world utterly alone. He told Dorian honestly, that he thought he might have been ready to begin something new, thought that Dorian could be the one to try something new with, but returning home was proving more difficult than he thought it would be. And while he wanted Dorian close, Orym didn’t know if he could do more than their gentle touches and soft looks.
And that was fine with Dorian. Of course it was, he admired Orym regardless, and would stay by his side as long as Orym would have him. Him being a widower was a surprise, but it more so filled in Orym’s picture than changed it. From that point on they had a rough understanding of where they stood. They trusted each other implicitly and found comfort in each other’s presence. Dorian shared more about himself to Orym than anyone else— his name, his status and his dreams— and in turn Orym opened up about Will, Derrig, his family and how tragedy had changed him.
It was easy to love Orym. Dorian fell into habits quickly and it slowly became just another part of their life. Dorian loved Orym, and Orym loved Dorian. Together, they floated happily in a gray space until the right time.
“If you don’t mind me asking… what’s changed?” He’d always assumed grief was the barrier that Orym had to grow against, he didn’t know what could have changed in two months.
A silence grew between them before Orym’s response came. His voice was quiet but thick with emotion.
“I saw Will again.”
All the other possibilities running through Dorian’s mind came to a screeching halt.
“ What ?” He leaned away so he could look Orym in the eyes. He was carefully emotionless; a trick Dorian knew he’d learn from being a guard for so long. “What do you mean ‘you saw Will?’”
Orym looked at him for a moment. He swallowed thickly before leaning into Dorian’s side again, looking out on the changing sky. Dorian wrapped his arm around him while he gathered his words.
“There was a battle. We shouldn’t have fought it. Ashton went down in seconds, then—then I did. Then Fearne did and Chetney and Laudna. The plan was to run, but we couldn’t. We weren’t fast enough and…” His hand came to rest on his chest, right above his heart. He took a deep breath. “And she killed me. And I saw him again.”
Dorian didn’t know what to do. Orym was pressed up to his side like he was a lifeline, and Dorian didn’t think he could hold onto him tighter than he already was. The sunrise ahead of them seemed too pretty for the dread burrowing in his heart.
“It was only for a minute at most, Fearne—she brought me back, but—” Orym’s voice broke. “He was there. Waiting for me. I got to touch him again and— Dorian, he looked so beautiful .”
Dorian felt lost in a storm. “What... What happened next?”
“Um. I heard Fearne’s voice… and a light appeared and Will told me to continue on and tossed me up into the light. I woke up in Fearne’s arms.”
“… Holy shit, Orym .”
During their visit to Zephrah, Orym had taken him to see Will’s grave. The whole experience had been strange to Dorian— graves did not exist in the Squall, there was no space for anything but a shrine— so he fell back on old habits and started talking. He asked questions about Will, everything from how he and Orym met to what his favorite flower was. He could tell Orym loved talking about his husband; son of a druid and a fighter, brother of three of the greatest sisters, lover of daisies and oranges and the best partner anyone could ask for, in life and in battle. The big moon to Orym’s little moon.
Orym had cried next to Will’s grave that day. Sobbed while talking about Will’s favorite teas and how Orym never managed to make it right but still tried to this day to get it just how Will liked it. Dorian wiped away Orym’s tears, and thanked Will personally for being so wonderful before playing a song for them both. The tears didn’t stop until they left the graveyard.
Dorian couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to see him again.
Orym wiped his eyes and pushed on.
“It… this whole journey made me realize that I… I don’t want to be alone anymore. I can’t be alone anymore. I think I’d unravel. I’ve been feeling so lonely lately and… as much as I love the Hells… I can’t handle them most days. They’re good people, Dorian, so good. But they have a lot going on and I’m just one person. A guard. They look to me like they want me to be their leader but I’m not that. I can’t be that. When we started this journey, I just wanted answers and now it feels like we’re saving the world, but if something goes wrong any one of them might just—I don’t know, explode. I… I need someone by my side. That feels selfish but… its true.”
Rays of light burst over the horizon, setting the clouds alight in golds and pinks. Once again, Dorian loathed his departure, and wished so completely that he’d been able to stay. How much could he have changed? Would Orym be this hurt if Dorian had been there to share a drink, a healing spell, an ear, a bed?
“Orym… you know who I am…” Dorian had responsibilities, and while he was far from ready to go home, he knew that one day he would. He was as sure of that as he was of the moons rising. “I will stay by your side, as long as you’ll have me… as long as I can… but your life won’t be the one you deserve. I can’t promise domesticity in Zephrah… or that travel will be stress free but… I can’t imagine my life happy without you.”
It had been easy before, when Dorian didn’t think about being Bronte again. He could live in a world where he had no future plans and could ride whatever winds he and Orym could find… but he now recognized this as painfully egocentric. He found himself caring more for Orym’s future than for his own daydreams and… if they were really going to do this… then Orym deserved to know.
“I’d be honored to love you.” Dorian said simply.
“I don’t know if I want to go back to Zephrah… and I’ve already fought to my last breath.” Orym looked up at him, and as their eyes locked, he reached up and cupped Dorian’s cheek. “I’ll follow you… wherever the wind takes us.”
With Orym’s gentle guidance, Dorian leaned in and kissed him. His eyes fluttered closed, and he focused on Orym’s soft lips, the taste of salt from his fallen tears and the grip Orym had on him. They kissed, once, twice, three times, never leaning away from each other. It was everything that Dorian had ever dreamed of and so much more.
Eventually, Orym parted with a contented sigh. Dorian opened his eyes to warm light and brilliant clouds and brought Orym closer into him. They watched the rest of the sunrise together, Orym’s quiet purr resonating between them.
“It’s beautiful.” Dorian said.
Orym chuckled. “Yeah, it is.”
“… I love you.” And he did. Wherever the future took them, whatever it held. He’d be there for Orym, a sword, a shield, a healing potion, a song. He’d bring him daisies and trim his hair, wipe away the tears when they came and hold him just the way he liked. The sunrise was beautiful, but Dorian had meant something more when he said it.
“ I love you .” Orym whispered to the sun, and Dorian was so glad to be back.