#dorym fic

[ladynearthelake]

The Morning After

Because I'm a little salty we didn't get a morning after scene with the boys. But that's why we fic. Enjoy!

Orym sleeps in. Granted, he’s still awake before anyone else, but he hears Fearne dismiss Ashton from her bed as he comes to consciousness. He huffs a laugh before burrowing deeper into his pillow. But the pillow is warm and firm.

And then he remembers.

Orym fell asleep cradled in Dorian’s arms. That ache of loneliness is dull in his chest, and he is more rested than he has been in months…probably even years.

Even still, Orym’s first instinct is to pull away. He’s been harboring feelings since he first laid eyes on the air genasi, and it’s still hard to believe that Dorian returned them even after everything he said last night.

Orym shifts as he frets, and the arms around him tighten a fraction. He can’t help but melt back against Dorian’s warm body. Orym lets his eyes slip closed. He can rest for a few more minutes.

A few more minutes turns into another hour. Orym drifts between sleeping and waking, vaguely aware of the sounds from the kitchen above. The longer he stays in Dorian’s arms, the harder it is to move.

He’s trying to plan his exit strategy when he hears a quick gasp above him. Orym slowly lifts his head, resting his chin on Dorian’s bare chest. The genasi is braced up on an elbow, regarding Orym with wonder in his bright eyes. He bites his lower lip, clearly trying to think of the perfect thing to say.

Orym saves him from himself. He moves forward and kisses Dorian, softly and sweetly. He pulls away before pressing another to the corner of Dorian’s mouth before nuzzling under the genasi’s chin, his smaller body splayed over Dorian’s chest. He relishes the rise and fall of Dorian’s breathing.

“I don’t know what to say either,” Orym whispers into his neck.

Dorian shivers. “There’s just…so much. I should have—”

Shoving himself up, Orym looks Dorian dead in the eyes. The genasi goes quiet as Orym cups his cheek. The halfling nods. He completely understands. How many nights did he spend watching Dorian sleep, keeping his distance out of some misguided loyalty to Will? They’ve both wasted so much time, but they’re here now. They shouldn’t spend anymore time on self flagellation.

Eyes shining, Dorian cups the back of Orym’s head and kisses him again. It’s short and sweet. Dorian pulls away and rests his forehead against Orym’s. The halfling brushes his nose against the genasi’s before getting off the bed. He moves to start dressing, but Dorian beats him to his clothes and armor.

Dorian has watched Orym don his armor many mornings on the road together, so he manages to dress the halfling with ease. His clever fingers fasten each buckle with care. When he’s finished, Dorian rests his large hand on Orym’s chest. Orym grips Dorian’s wrist.

“Let’s get this done. I’d really like to do this again.”

Dorian laughs, his eyes darting to the ground before taking Orym in again. “Yeah, me too.”

They move closer, but the piercing call of the pretty blue tiefling woman freezes them in space. Breakfast is ready, and then it's time to save the world.

[longlivedelusion]

If We We're Everything

Dorian x Orym

@apollosukelele @fairymonk as promised, the morning after the snuggles 🤍 hope you enjoy!

A/N: literally wrote this 20 minutes before the next episode started airing. Barely proofread, but wanted this to get out now now. Hope y'all like my take on this ✨

Warnings: spoilers up till C3 ep111, mentions of world ending stuff and general themes around that (it's C3 c'mon lol)

When Dorian woke up, he expected to be alone. Or maybe, he didn't really know what he expected.

Was the night before a dream? Did he imagine Orym's confession, the soft warmth of his skin pressed against his? The lull of a breath as soothing any lullaby? The smell of Orym, Orym, Orym-

The warmth was still there. The feeling of a body curled against his chest, soft waves threaded through his fingers. He opened his eyes slowly to see the halfling below him, chest rising and falling still in a deep sleep. How rare for him to catch his friend still asleep before him.

His friend. 

Could he just call him that now? What were they? Friends, lovers, partners? He's getting too ahead of himself. As much as he wanted something, everything with Orym, he didn't know what today would bring or what the other even wanted from this. Sure, Orym said he had liked Dorian for a long time, but that doesn't mean he wanted to jump into a relationship persay with him, he-

"I can feel you thinking," Orym said, voice still groggy from sleep.

"I'm sorry, just go back to sleep." He said as he softly began petting Orym's hair back.

"S'okay. Slept longer than usual anyways." Orym nuzzled into the touch before looking up at him with a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi." Dorian felt his face flush slightly at the eye contact, his insides practically melting at the soft green eyes that peered up at him.

They stayed like that a moment, just looking at each other. The fondness in Orym's gaze making it hard for Dorian to think let alone speak.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Orym said, lulling the silence away.

It took Dorian a moment to think of something coherent to say, and he eventually managed out. "Everything, nothing. Us, the world. Today. You."

Dorian watched as the halfling's face changed into a knowing look, threading his fingers through Dorian's and giving them a gentle squeeze. "It's a lot isn't it?"

"It is," Dorian sighed out. "But this is enough. If all of it goes to hell today, then this will have been enough." The partial truth fell from his lips with ease. 

He felt Orym still beneath him, his tense body drawing Dorian's gaze back down. 

"Orym?" Dorian said, the worry seeping into him. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he-

The softest whisper left Orym's lips, otherwise lost if not for the close distance between them. 

"It's not enough." 

"What do you mean?" Dorian's heart sped up.

Orym's gaze flicked up to his, a slight sadness but determination in his eyes that was not there before. He shifted his body up, their heads now side by side in the pillow. 

"It's not enough." He said more clearly now, eyes fixed on his. "I want more time with you. To take you out on dates, to hold your hand. To show you how I feel without having to rush this."

Dorian's chest tightened, his stomach fluttering.

"I want-" Orym said, his voice near begging as he reaches up to cup Dorian's face, "to kiss you, somewhere beautiful. Somewhere you deserve. Not because the world might end and I might never get the chance to if I don't."

"Orym-" he felt his breath catch, eyes flickering down to the halfling's lips. How could his breath catch? "This is perfect, you're perfect. Just like this."

"You deserve the best, Dorian."

"You already are that," he said, holding Orym's hand to his face. "This, this is so much more than I ever could have imagined. Your touch alone gives my heart a feeling I'd never experienced in my life. And best of all, I get to experience this with you. That's all I care about."

Orym's gaze held true to Dorian's, never wavering. "I still can't believe you feel the same way."

"I do," he said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly as he realized with a flush. "I do. Feel very much the same." 

Dorian's gaze lowered to the halfling's lips and then up before he spoke again. "I'd really like to kiss you now, if that's alright."

Orym chuckled, the lines by his eyes crinkling slightly as he moved closer, but not quite where he wanted him. "That's more than alright."

Dorian's hand moved to Orym's jaw, fingers threading to the back of his head. His heart felt like a mess of nerves as he leaned forward. For a moment, he felt his nerves creep up, the fact that he'd really only kissed very few people in his life. Never anyone like this, someone he cared so deeply for, who made his skin feel feel alight, who made him feel this desire, this passion, this.

This.

His lips slowly pressed onto Orym's, a sigh escaping his love's lips as he kissed back. 

Dorian's thoughts left his mind. There was nothing but Orym in that moment, Orym's lips against his, the way they moved so slowly against his own, so patiently. He felt his heart beating so fast he swore the others could hear it from the other rooms if they tried. He tasted sweetness and possibility on Orym's lips, of trust and home, and it was so so perfectly Orym. So perfectly everything.

They did not break the spell for some time that morning, not even as life began to breathe into the others, as the smell of breakfast crept under the door. Only as they were forced apart by the sound of knocking from an apologetic Laudna did they break, and they laid their foreheads against one another for support as they caught themselves. Brought themselves back. 

They would make it through this day, if not for more of this. More of everything.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

3, 8, or 10 with dorym please? Whichever sparks your creativity more!

8. letting them collapse against your chest the second they make it through the door after a hellish day i didn't know which ask meme you were referring to so i guessed lol. setting this in a hypothetical post-c3

Zephrah makes Dorian nervous. It's not the people—every person he's met here has been the nicest person he's ever met in his life, and they've all gone out of their way to make him feel at home. It's not the culture, either, which is much quieter and more peaceful than the Silken Squall, just the way Dorian likes it. It's not not the rift to the Elemental Plane, but he's pretty sure that the Ashari have that covered, so he's not too worried.

It's Orym. He's a hero of them realm, a Very Important Person, not just to the Voice of the Tempest, but to all of Exandria. So is Dorian, who is technically—not technically, Orym would say, you're a big damn hero—but here, it's all Orym, all the time. And Dorian is not complaining; it's about time the world gave Orym his flowers, and besides, despite being a performer, Dorian's never reveled in the attention of others.

But all eyes being on Orym means that Dorian's actions reflect on him, and he's terrified of fucking things up for him. Orym has a big position with the Tempest Blades now—Dorian's definitely been told what it is, and he definitely can't remember—and the last thing Dorian wants to do is embarrass him or make the other Blades wonder where he found this blue dork he brought hom.

So mostly he stays home, the little cottage Orym once shared with Will and now shares with Dorian. There are echoes of Will all over the home—his winter clothes in storage, his training sword leaning against the fireplace, his aftershave beneath the bathroom sink—and Dorian is still figuring out how to settle in without erasing his memory. He's learned a lot about Will through the things he left behind, and he's bummed that he's never going to get to meet him. He's pretty sure they would have gotten along.

Like now, when the door to the cottage swings open and a haggard, exhausted Orym limps in, his Sentinel Shield dragging behind him. Dorian leaps off the sofa, where he had been noodling on his lute, a love song he now feels more qualified to sing. "Orym! Is everything okay? You look..." Better to let that though trail off than sound like a dick.

Instead of answering, Orym crashes headfirst into Dorian, who drops to his knees to hug him properly. He can feel every tense muscle in Orym's back loosen as he sighs into Dorian's chest. Dorian cups the back of his head, the other hand splayed across his back to keep him close. "Oh boy, you've had a day, haven't you?"

Orym tips his head to the side just enough to murmur, "I've been through worse, but gods, it doesn't feel like it."

Dorian presses a kiss to the top of Orym's head. "I'm sorry." Then he says something so wholly out of character that he catches himself by surprise. "Need me to crack some skulls?"

Orym stiffens, and Dorian could kick himself. Crack some skulls? Dorian has never said such a thing in his life, and now he's freaked Orym out, because he's a moron who doesn't know what he's doing—

Orym snorts out a laugh, straightening up to smile wryly at Dorian. "Y'know, Will used to say the exact same thing to me, whenever I was cranky."

Oh. "I...didn't know that."

"It's nice to hear it again." Orym kisses his cheek. "I think I'll take a rain check on the skull-cracking. Want to join me for a bath?"

Dorian's face instantly goes hot at the suggestion and warmth in Orym's voice. "Um, yeah, of course. You go run the water, I'll grab us some wine."

"Sounds good." And Orym kisses him again, on the lips this time, tired but smiling. As he trudges off toward the bathroom, Dorian stands and walks shell-shocked to the kitchen. Pulling wine glasses down from their cabinet, he finds himself thinking of Will—or maybe to Will, as if he were praying. Thanks for showing me what to say.

"You comin'?" comes the call from the bathroom.

"On my way!" Dorian pops the cork on a bottle of red, breathes in the fragrant bouquet. I just want to take care of him. I think we both know how much he deserves it. He heads toward the sound of running water, and he swears for a moment he feels a strong, broad hand rest on his shoulder. Dorian smiles, and he thinks that maybe he'll be able to do right by Orym after all.

[jamieylnn]

I have never done this before, but I'm now doing fic writing so I think that means I'm allowed to do such a thing and am taking @caterpills's open tag to do it. It's also definitely Ten Several Sentences Sunday, because I can't be contained~ Anyway, in my note for just look at him, I hinted that I've had a Modern AU Dorym fic in my head for a while and this is an excerpt from one of the chapters I've been noodling on. Someday I'll get around to polishing things further, but for the meantime, please have this offering. This chapter was feelsy to write, but I like what I have so far.

He let the phone continue to the next saved message. "I'm watching you do yoga right now. I'm making coffee and you're outside in the backyard, not even wearing a shirt and it's—hang on. It's not even 50 degrees out, I swear. Oh, the weather app says it's 64, but still. I'm not complaining, though, because holy shit, you look—oh fuck, you saw me, okay love you bye—" "I know you're doing important work right now, but I miss you. Call me when you get back to your hotel room. I love you, Orym." "I just texted you, but I thought I'd try calling and before you say I told you so, please know that I know you were right and I know I should have taken my car in to get the tires replaced weeks ago so you don't need to remind me when I tell you that my tire went and I need you to come and get me, because I can stomach a lecture from you better than the one Dad will give me so please call me back as—oh that's you—"

Just an open tag, feel free to go for it. 💙💚

[nicketynic]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm

The tension between Orym and Dorian comes to a head the night before the biggest battle of their lives. Dorian refuses to let them go on with everything unspoken.

Largely canon divergent from 3x111, but the last few lines has spoilers for the end of the episode.

[pink-lightsabre]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm Additional Tags: Campaign 3 (Critical Role), Reunions Summary:

Orym's had this dream before.

[ineffablebardwrites]

Fic Masterlist (Dorym Edition)

Critical Role

Dorym:

Guilt and Other Things:

Following the death of their comrade, Dorian finds himself shouldering the weight of his own guilt.

A talk with Orym reminds him that he isn't alone.

Something New, Something Blue:

Orym reflects on feelings for Dorian he didn't even realize he had.

I'd Rather Be Me (With You):

Following the flower incident, Dorian is over the moon to know Orym may actually hold feelings for him.

However, reality rears its ugly head and reminds him of just why it can't be.

(Companion to Something New, Something Blue)

Everything Stays:

The fake, brittle smile that Dorian had worn following their shopping experience is keeping Orym awake.

The circumstances behind it are keeping Dorian awake as well.

I Will Follow You (Into The Dark):

Following a battle, Orym wakes to a face he thought he'd never see again.

Missing Pieces:

Dorian is gone.

Orym is trying not to let it bother him.

Send You My Love (On A Wire):

Twenty-five words a day simply isn't enough when you're missing someone as terribly as Orym misses Dorian.

Like The Dawn:

Orym hates goodbyes.

He learned that from Will.

Freefall:

Orym falls from the ship.

Ashton puts him back together.

Things Left Unsaid:

In his final moments, Orym attempts to reach out one last time.

Hurt:

Dorian feels their loss a million miles away.

(Companion to Things Left Unsaid)

Tick Tick Boom:

Orym has a short fuse.

Otohan lights it.

Broken Vessel:

This time, Otohan sought him out.

This time, she pushed a little too hard.

This time, she broke something that shouldn't have been broken.

What Do You See (When You Look At Me?)

Orym doesn't like the person he's become.

Thankfully, Dorian has returned to remind him who he is.

When Darkness Falls

The Apogee Solstice has begun.

The Betrayer Gods have awoken.

The first to fall was Dorian Storm.

Caught In A Web

As the Solstice approaches, Opal starts acting a little odd.

Dorian finds this out almost too late.

Survivior's Guilt

After a heated discussion that leads to hurt feelings, Orym finds Dorian on the roof, drunk and grieving.

They finally talk about Cyrus.

Sleep Study

Orym can't sleep.

Not well, not for long.

An offer from Dorian seeks to change that.

In Our Bedroom (After the War)

Dorian and Orym reunite after being apart for so long.

They have a talk that's long overdue.

And I'll Tell You All About It (When I See You Again)

Dorian wakes up in an unfamiliar place.

The person he finds there has a familiar face.

Dorym + Fearne:

When You Sleep:

Sometimes Orym had nightmares.

or

How Dorian, Fearne, and Orym began sharing a bed.

Wish You Were Here:

Grief is a process, one that takes time.

Sometimes it's hard to process without help from others.

[standbyyourmantis]

1, 20 & 30!

1. How many words have you written this year?

224,776 on AO3. I have a few thousand more tucked away in WIPs right now. Not a significant amount but we're definitely over 225k.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Hm. So, from just sheer WPM probably Kiss Me? The whole thing took about 6 weeks and it's over 86k, 90k if you count the extra scene for chapter 11 which I do because it was meant to be in the main story I just didn't want to change the rating. Actual speed of concept to here's a fic, I wrote chapter one of I Made My Own Bed (And Now I Must Lie) as a standalone fic in response to a Tumblr ask over about an hour during a boring meeting. I added chapter 2 later, but yeah. Either that or Fluff Fics For Your Nerves which was five ficlets in six hours and a sixth the next morning so that there was fluff in the tag the day after everyone fucking died.

(I just realized you didn't ask for 10 but I put those links in there so I'm leaving it and you get a free extra answer)

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I literally don't know if I can answer that. If we're strictly going in 2022, probably A Prize To Be Won because I am pretty proud of how that turned out. There's a couple things I keep wanting to change but I do think it's reasonably close to the perfect version of itself in that I achieved everything I wanted to achieve with it. I also accidentally made up a fanon of halflings having proportionally thicker dicks and of Dorian having a sweat kink that I am so pleased everybody else just ran with but also sometimes leaves me questioning my life choices. So yeah. Probably that one. I do go back and read individual scenes from Kiss Me on occasion though.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

I know you know this story already, but my biggest surprise is a) that I am writing at all and b) that it's Dorym.

I didn't write at all in 2021, I did one thing in 2020 and one thing in 2019. Only five things in 2018. I had pretty much given up on writing recreationally, but I was reading a lot of Widomauk fic as C2 wrapped up and really wanted to get into writing again as C3 was taking off. A friend of mine accidentally (?) got me interested in Dorym by sending me cute fanart and when I was trying to think about what to write I really wanted to write Widomauk but the only idea for a fic I had was based on the movie "Marry Me" which I probably could have done Widomauk but it felt more Dorym so I posted about it and got two whole positive responses about doing the Dorym fic and still had no ideas about Widomauk so I wrote Kiss Me And Smile For Me (which is a stupid title and I wish I'd thought five whole minutes before doing it) and it was surprisingly well received. And anyway now I'm here. Talking about my 225k of Dorym in five months. Because I couldn't think of a Widomauk fic idea.

[essektheylyss]

Fearne had, in true Fearne fashion, wrapped herself like a personal pashmina around Dorian, which left Orym to curl into his chest.

They had slept this way dozens of times before. Fearne’s blackened fingers wrapped tightly around his forearm as she snored loudly into Dorian’s ear. Orym’s head rested on Dorian’s bicep, his arms folded together between them, and his bare feet were gingerly resting upon Dorian’s thighs just above the knees, as Dorian had coiled enough to let Fearne’s fuzzy leg stretch over his hip. They were exhausted, and this was familiar, and he should’ve been fast asleep.

But Orym’s mind buzzed.

Fearne had always been a strong source of heat, but now she was a furnace, and even without covers it was too warm. But Fearne was not the reason why Orym’s skin burned where it met Dorian’s.

He was a fucking grown man. He was fully capable of admitting that.

Admitting it didn’t change it.

Neither did it change his awareness that Dorian had been too still for the past hour, his breath too precise and measured to be natural as it fell upon Orym’s hair. Orym was not going to presume that the cause of this was the same thing afflicting him; there were plenty of other reasons Dorian would be lying awake tonight.

“My family will find your brother,” he murmured finally, and Dorian’s breath wavered for just an instant before he regained his composure and returned to his measured, singer’s breathing. It was so slight that no one else could’ve noticed it, but Orym noticed. “You said there’s a body— the Tempest can bring him back, or Fearne, honestly—“

“I know,” Dorian answered, and this too was so faint that no one but Orym could’ve heard. “I know,” he said again, as though this one was only to appease himself.

“Do you think… do you think any of Opal is still in there?”

“I don’t know. I could barely tell what was in there—“ he cut himself off. “I couldn’t even help my brother. I think Fy’ra Rai might’ve… she must’ve seen something. I hope so,” he added, inhaling, trying to capture an airy tone that he didn’t fully manage. “The Spider Queen doesn’t deserve her. She doesn’t deserve anything.”

Orym had nothing to say to this. He hadn’t cared what the gods did or didn’t deserve in weeks, but now he could see the vein of fury that sharpened Dorian’s edges. It didn’t frighten him the way it had frightened him months ago, when things had been simpler, when there was not a war to be fought. It simply saddened him. “I’m so sorry about Opal,” he said, after the silence had lingered. “But I’m,” he breathed out a single dark laugh at himself, his selfishness, “I’m real glad it wasn’t you.”

Dorian’s laugh matched his own. “I suppose that is a silver lining.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Orym admitted. It was easier to keep his voice from cracking at a whisper. “I’ve thought about seeing you again so many times— I wish the circumstances were better—“

“I’m here,” Dorian said, for the second time today. “The circumstances tried very hard to make even that impossible, but— I’m here.”

Orym pulled his arm gently out of Fearne’s grasp and raised his hand to Dorian’s cheek. It was too dark to see the tinge of lavender against his skin, but Orym could feel the warmth bloom beneath his fingers. He still couldn’t bring himself to attribute his friend’s insomnia to anything so self-serving as his own, but perhaps it was one factor.

He pulled his hand back. Was there a flash of disappointment in Dorian’s eyes? He couldn’t tell in the dark. But he brushed his fingers together, drawing upon the wellspring of life within the ground beneath this hastily-erected encampment. The Hellcatch looked like a barren wasteland to most, but that life was still present even here.

Perhaps not now, but after a rainy season, the valley would bloom with wildflowers. The seeds waited in the earth for their time to sprout. Life went on, even in the darkest of places.

He produced a small stalk of life from his hands, and held out the tiny bundle of forget-me-nots to Dorian.

He should’ve said that they were for Cyrus, to remember him by. He wanted to say that they were for Dorian himself, that a day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought of him. He didn’t speak at all as Dorian’s hand wrapped around Orym’s, pinching the stem beneath his fingers but not letting go.

“Orym,” Dorian breathed, looking from the flowers to his face. Then a strange expression came over his face, a wrinkle of consternation as he stared into the middle distance. “Fearne, are you braiding my hair?”

Orym lifted his head an inch to peer past Dorian’s ear. He had noticed that the snoring had stopped, but he’d been too caught up in the conversation to process it. Fearne’s wide eyes stared back with perfect innocence, her hands indeed weaving Dorian’s hair into a loose braid.

“Just pretend I’m not here,” she whispered quickly. “I’m totally not here.”

When Orym dropped his head back to Dorian’s arm, he was met with a crooked smile. It was not meant to be disarming, but it disarmed him anyway.

“Just like old times, eh?” he said, but his hand was still around Orym’s.

Carefully, Orym moved to tuck the flower behind Dorian’s ear, bringing both of their hands with him, and then laced their fingers together instead. “No,” he said, and tucked his head so that his brow rested against Dorian’s chin, and pressed their entwined hands to his lips. “But I think that’s okay.”

[gobliiine]

Am I thinking now about the gestures Dorian has done for Orym since returning to bh in the context of trying to learn how best to show Orym that he loves him without saying it because the word ‘love’ is too big and scary? Maybe so

[stormbros]

I finally got beacon to refresh and rewatching the scene just made me want to applaud Robbie and Liam both. Ignoring the fact we watched Liam potentially set up the conversation earlier with Caleb, and watching Robbie continually try to initiate the scene (big group, it happens), just....the bittersweet conclusion to everything we've seen:

Dorian doesn't know what it is and maybe it's a phase but maybe it isn't and it's so strong so why not take the chance? And Orym knows what it is clearly and that is why he ignores it but upon accepting Will's words and finding comfort with Dorian he knows "[this is] fine"

Curling up in each other's arms, seeking comfort in one another because tomorrow could be their last day and they may not have a future but they have tomorrow and that's a good place to start

[ladynearthelake]

Let Them Try

Are you also constantly thinking about how even if Bells Hells wins the day, Orym still has that bargain he made with Nana Morri waiting to ruin his happy ending? Or are you normal?

Anyway, here's a fic:

And in the blink of an eye, it’s done.

A laugh pulls itself from Imogen’s throat as Laudna slams into her, holding the sorceress tightly.

“Well, I definitely didn’t expect that,” Fearne says as Ashton cackling behind her. He shoves Braius in the shoulder as Chetney howls with joy.

Dorian let’s his eyes scan over them, a smile of disbelief on his face. They did it. They actually manged to stop Ludinus.

It’s over.

He lets his eyes fall on Orym, who is staring at Dorian like he’s never allowed himself to before. Laughter bubbles from Dorian’s mouth as he drops his ancestral sword and lute to the ground. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he runs for Orym. They collide, and Dorian lifts Orym into his arms, spinning up into the air as he laughs like a mad man.

They get to try. There’s a future now, and they get to see if they can walk through it together.

Orym clings to the back of Dorian’s shirt as if he’s worried Dorian will disappear.

Dorian falls to his knees and holds Orym at arms length. He cups Orym’s face and leans close.

It’s been on the tip of Dorian’s tongue since Orym’s desperate sending stone message weeks ago. The genasi has wanted to say it, but couldn’t find the right moment. Even falling asleep with Orym in his arms last night (that was last night? It feels like it was months ago…), Dorian couldn’t get the words right.

But now…he can say it now.

“Orym, I—”

Dorian cuts himself off as Orym steps away. His hands linger in the air, reaching for the halfling. There’s a question on his lips, but he stops when he sees the vines snaking out from under Orym’s armor.

“Oh no.”

Dorian looks over his shoulder and sees Fearne staring at Orym with a look of horror that he’s never seen on her face before.

“What’s wrong?” Dorian asks, reaching for Orym again.

The halfing dodges, but his movements are stilted. The vines aren’t just coming from under his armor. They’re bursting out of his skin. “I…I had to, Fearne.”

Horror turns to anger on the faun’s face.

“Orym, what the hell is happening?” Dorian demands.

The halfling studies him with an intensity that nearly makes Dorian shrink back. When Orym opens his mouth to respond, he chokes. Vines erupt from his mouth, strangling the words. It’s a horrifying mirror to the Wildmother’s blessing in Vasselheim as the vines engulf Orym’s small frame. Flowers blossom along the twisted cocoon.

Dorian lunges forward. He pulls at the vines, flinching as the thorns rip at his flesh. He feels Fearne’s hands on his shoulders, but Dorian will not be deterred. He wrenches at a vine, but it withers in his hand. The ash blows from his palm. He looks up to Orym and gasps. He feels Fearne collapse against his back as they watch the vines die just as fast as they grew.

There’s nothing there. Orym is gone.

~

After much discussion, it’s decided that Dorian and Fearne will enter Ligament Manor. They argued that a massive party would rub Nana Morri the wrong way. It had taken hours to talk down Orym’s sisters-in-law and the Voice of the Tempest.

“He deserves a happy ending, Dorian,” Keyleth had said to him. She pulled him away from the group into her private quarters. She wanted to speak with him before they left for the Feywild. “Of everyone, he deserves peace.”

Her eyes drift to the slightly ajar door off this sitting room. Dorian knows the man they rescued from the Malleus Key is resting there. He’s heard the story whispered many times. If he survives, he may just turn it into a ballad.

Dorian nods at the Tempest, and she presses up to her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. If she blesses him, Dorian has no idea, but he’s filled with a warmth he hasn’t felt since he last saw his mother.

“Bring him home, Dorian, please.”

There is no question that all of Bells Hells would travel to the Feywild with Fearne and Dorian, but they remain on outskirts of Morri’s domain.

“I’ll be able to hear you if you call,” Imogen says, tapping her forehead. “Just give us the signal, and we’ll come runnin’”

“We’ll be fine,” Fearne reassures them. Dorian is sure she’s ignoring the growing number of eyes staring at the party from the thick canopy above.

In his head, he hears, “You’ll holler if it gets bad?”

“Of course,” he silently answers back. “But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Ashton pulls Fearne into a hug and lifts a trinket from her dress. She clearly notices, biting them on the nose before brushing a kiss against their cheek.

Dorian aches for the soft touch of Orym’s skin.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Fearne says.

~

“I think we’re all blowing this out of proportion,” Fearne says as they approach the massive tree house. She’s trying to act more confident than she appears. Dorian’s known her long enough to see the panic she’s trying to hide. “All we’ll have to do it talk to her. It’s not like these bargains are a big deal or anything.”

“Mm hm,” Dorian offers, desperately trying not to think of the topiaries and powerful archfey turned into wall art.

He stops short of entering the home and turns to Fearne. “He never said anything about this?” he asks.

Fearne looks a him for a moment before averting her eyes. Guilt presses heavily on her shoulders.

“Once. That night with the sword business. With Delilah. He mentioned it, but I never brought it back up. We just got so caught up with everything…” She trails off and turns away.

'No time' echoes in Dorian’s head. He catches Fearne’s shoulder and gently moves her to face him again.

“None of us asked,” Dorian said. “That night was…a lot. But we can make it right now.”

Fearne quickly wipes the tears that have rolled down her cheeks. “He was never okay, Dorian. I should have…”

“I think we’re all guilty of not recognizing his turmoil,” Dorian said, squeezing her shoulder. “He is always so concerned about everyone else. He likes to say he’s not a leader, but he puts everyone ahead of himself.”

Fearne clutches his hand on her shoulder. “He doesn’t get to do that anymore.”

“You’ll help me make sure?” he asks with a soft smile.

Her eyes glistening, Fearne nods, and they head into the manor.

~

Their welcome is more subdued than last time. The flowers remain closed, but still move as if watching Fearne and Dorian pass. The bard has his lute in his hands, but his fingers are still. He has a song at the ready should he need it. He’s been working on it for quite some time.

The thick walls of the tree trunk echo their footfalls as the pair move up the stairs. Fearne’s expression is pinched. She steps lighter than she normally would. Dorian keeps a pace behind her, humming to himself.

Orange light flickers at the top of the stairs, bending the shadows menacingly. Dorian’s step stutters, his eyes seeing a stretch of a spider’s web against the light. He breaths through his fear and hurries to keep up with Fearne.

They crest the top of the stairs into the parlor. The tiki bar is cleaned and tidy on the far end of the room, and the large, cracked leather easy chair is vacant. The sconces on the walls dim as they enter, leaving the room a deep umber color.

“This isn’t normal, is it?” Dorian asks. “Normal of course being relative—”

“Fearnie?”

The pair freezes and turns to the stairwell leading to the tree top. Orym has a hand on the bannister and one foot still on the last stair. He’s healed from whatever hurts he sustained during the battle with Ludinus. The vines didn’t seem to do anything to harm him. There’s a tension in the way he’s holding himself as if he’s surprised they’re here.

That look breaks Dorian’s heart.

Orym’s eyes land on Dorian, and he inhales deeply.

“Fearne, dear!” Nana Morri’s voice booms from the opposite side of the room. A door that wasn’t there a moment ago closes behind her. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon, though I suppose whisking your friend away so quickly would necessitate a visit.”

Fearne runs forward and clings to her grandmother. Dorian can’t blame her. He genuinely didn’t think they would get out of there. He can only imagine how he’s going to react when he sees his father and mother again.

“Nana,” Fearne says as she pulls away. “I came to ask a favor.”

“Did you?” Morri says, her long neck craning to look over at Dorian. “And you brought the cute boy with. Interesting.” Her head turns to Orym. “Very interesting, indeed.”

Dorian bites his lip, fighting his instinct to speak. Fearne said she could make this work. He has to trust her.

“Nana—”

Her grandmother takes Fearne’s hand in her own. Her long fingers wrap twice around her grand daughter’s wrists. “I don’t mean to cut you off, my dear. You know that I would do most anything for you. But I know what you’re going to ask.”

“Oh?” Fearne says, trying to act surprised.

“I know you care for this man,” she says, nodding towards Orym. “But he made a bargain. I honored my end, and now he is honoring his. This is the way of things.”

“But Nana, he—”

“Is an adult who made his choice.”

“Fearnie, you didn’t have to do this,” Orym says. He still hasn’t moved, but he’s very deliberately not looking at Dorian. “I knew what I was doing.”

Dorian feels a deep anger well up in his stomach. It fights with the love he holds for Orym. The emotions burst out of him, despite his best effort to keep them in.

“Making a bargain to save your friends?” He says, an incredulous laugh causing his voice to break. Orym looks at the floor with a flinch. “After everything with the crown, I thought you would know better.”

“Dorian, I had to.”

And Dorian gets it. He really does. He can’t go back in time and stop Orym from offering up his future to make sure his friends would be safe. But he can try to fix things now.

Dorian looks to Nana Morri, who is leering at him with increasing curiosity. “Would you like to bargain, young man?”

Orym's eyes go wide. He moves to say something, but Dorian doesn't give him the chance.

“I’ve come to collect what wasn’t Orym’s to trade.”

Nana Morri laughs from both her mouths, a high pitched cackle and a deep, bassy chuckle. “You know, I’ve heard that one a few times before. But he was never yours, dear boy. You two made no promises or pacts.”

Dorian clears his throat. “No, he belonged to another. The sword and shield he carries are proof of that devotion. He belongs to his husband and his family, the Ashari and Bells Hells. He never should have bargained.”

Morrigan beckons Orym and the halfing steps closer to her. She raps a knobby knuckle on his armor. “No mention of this? I understand it was gifted by someone who loves him as well.”

Dorian looks right at Orym. “Yes, it was.”

“Nana…” Fearne whispers, still tucked into her grandmother’s side. “Please?”

Morrigan looks from Orym to Fearne before fixing Dorian with a calculating look. “This is old magic, my boy. I’m just as bound by it as he is. My grand daughter cares for you both deeply, and technically, the little metal creature died on your mission, even if your band had already been back on Exandria. My end of the deal was fulfilled.” The Fatestitcher cocks her head. “However, if you had something to offer? Perhaps we could trade back?”

“Dorian, you don’t have to—”

“Stop it,” Dorian all but shouts. “You deserve a happy ending, Orym. We had to hold back a whole legion of folk who wanted to storm this place just to give you a chance at one. You’ve carried so much for so long. Let me do this for you. Please.”

He takes a deep breath, pawing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. He blinks away the moisture there and readies himself.

“I offer you a song, my lady,” he says.

And he plays.

It’s not a love song. Dorian isn’t experienced enough for such things, and he doesn’t want the come to come across as saccharine or sappy. The song isn’t about him or his intense feelings for Orym. It’s a song about the fighter. The survivor. A man who managed to get back up after every fall. Who only wanted to do right by those he holds tightest in his heart. It’s a song about a man who constantly steps in the line of fire to protect those he loves.

But it’s not a love song.

Dorian feels like he plays for hours. Stars are born and burn brightly and then wink out as he continues. His forearms burn and his fingers bleed. His voice cracks on the high notes. But he powers through. He finishes. His lute falls from his hands and he crashes to his knees. His breathing is a ragged gasp.

He looks up, avoiding the looks on Fearne’s and Orym’s faces. He can’t bear to look at them right now. Dorian only has eyes for Morrigan, who has stepped closer to him as he played. There’s a hunger in her eyes, but she blinks it away as Fearne tugs at her spindly fingers.

“Quite a song,” Morrigan says.

“Y-you…honor me…with your praise,” Dorian pants. His throat is on fire.

The Fatestitcher raises up to her full height. “You are lucky my Fearne loves you both,” she says. “You cannot just take him, Dorian Storm. As I said, there are rules in place.” She runs a finger down her chin. “I will free him from his bargain, but you must return here each month when Catha waxes full. You will play for me, and I will enjoy the attentions of the Master Muse and Son of the Wind. And perhaps, you’ll bring your large friend with you. Doomseed was his name, I believe.”

“Oh, thank you, Nana!” Fearne shouts. She leaps at her grandmother and nearly tackles her to the ground. “Thank you so much!”

Dorian’s arms shake as he tries to push himself up. He winces, finally managing, as familiar boots appear in front of him. Dorian lifts his head and looks into Orym’s eyes. There’s fury there, and incredulity and desperation that Dorian has never seen directed his way before. He flinches under that intensity.

“Did you really think we weren’t going to come?” Dorian asks after he catches his breath. His cheeks flush purple as tears shimmer in the corners of his eyes. “You thought—”

Dorian’s words are cut off as Orym crashes their mouths together. They topple over; Orym straddling Dorian’s chest as he frames the genasi’s face in his hands.

“I love you,” Orym whispers against Dorian’s mouth. “I thought I wouldn’t get to say it, but I love you so much.”

Recovering from his shock, Dorian pulls Orym tight against him. He kisses the confession from the halfling’s mouth, trying to tamp down his anxiety over his lack of experience. They’re both panting when they pull back to stare at each other.

“I do too…as well,” Dorian says, his voice still hoarse. “Love you, I mean.”

Orym laughs, resting his head on Dorian’s chest. “I figured.”

The genasi squeezes him tighter and drops a kiss into Orym’s hair. He can hear the rest of the Bells Hells below. Fearne must have called Imogen. He’s excited to see them, but part of him wants to hide Orym away. He wants his little fighter all to himself for at least a little while.

Orym reads his thoughts. “We’ve got nothing but time now.” He kisses the skin he can reach over Dorian’s collar bone. Dorian nuzzles in closer, uncaring who sees.

[nat1nonsense]

Screaming crying throwing up thinking about Orym and Dorian waking up together in a way that’s not that different from all of the times they’ve waken up together before, but also *so incredibly different*

[waltwhitmansbeard]

"You're shaking" for Dorym mayhaps? 🙏

21. "You're shaking."

Aeor is freezing. Dorian knew that, of course. The issue is not that he wasn't aware that Eiselcross is one of the coldest places on Exandria; the issue is that he had no idea he'd be coming here when he had this...outfit commissioned.

This outfit. Gods above, he feels foolish. The world is ending and he thought it would be a good idea to start dressing like one of the aerial dancers he grew up enamored with back home. Surely Seth—Essek—whoever this is must think him some great flouncy idiot, traipsing through the wreckage of this wizard city with his tits hanging out.

The group stops to investigate a tent, and Dorian hangs back, trying to hide his shivering. He rubs his hands up and down his arms, but it does nothing to make the frigid air bearable.

"You're freezing."

Dorian nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks down to see Orym, sneaky bastard, smiling up at him.

"H-h-how c-c-could you t-t-t-t-t-tell?"

"You're turning blue," Orym deadpans. "C'mon. You're shaking. Here."

He's holding out a wrinkled mass of crimson fabric, which Dorian hesitantly takes. "What...?"

"Ruby Vanguard robes." Orym shrugs. "Not the height of fashion, but they should keep you from freezing to death."

Dorian sheepishly drapes the robes around his shoulders like a shawl. "Yeah, I guess this outfit choice wasn't my best moment, huh?"

Orym clears his throat. "Oh. Well. I don't know. I like it."

And Dorian swears the tips of his ears go pink.

But before he can say anything, Orym jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the tent. "I'm going to help out. You just...get warm." Then he scurries off, and Dorian has to wonder if he had the right idea with this wardrobe change after all.

[matt-mercer-wannabe]

I’m gonna need some jealous dorian fics after this episode

[disasterpurplebois]

No canon Dorym morning convo? FANFIC IT IS