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There were many things that Dorian might have expected to be hiding in the corner of an abandoned cabin near the edge of the Frostweald. Rats, sure. Larger animals seeking shelter from the cold? That was what Dorian, Fearne, and Orym were doing as well, so he couldn't fault them for that. They had even been warned about basilisks frequenting this area, though typically not this close to the road. But a nightmarish, ghostly, hag-like being that shrieked at them and sent blasts of chilling energy towards them and stayed annoyingly out of reach of Dorian's sword? That was a bit of a surprise.
It was smoking and smoldering already from well-aimed streaks of fire from Fearne and Mister. Dorian tried to chase it off with magic-infused whispers about how sharing shelter with weary travelers was a kind thing to do and really, you don't want to be rude, do you , but the hag seemed unaffected.
Orym threw his daggers. Both pierced through the hag's partially corporeal form, sending plumes of black smoke buffeting off its body. "Quit cowering at the ceiling, come down where we can reach you!" he shouted.
The hag had been turning towards Fearne, but at that, it whirled on Orym and let out a hoarse, whispery wail in his direction. Dorian saw the dark burst of energy as it swirled around Orym's head and was sucked into his eyes and mouth. His eyes clouded over with grey, and Dorian saw his posture shift immediately from battle-ready to terrified, scrambling to back away.
"No! No!" Orym shouted.
More bright bursts of fiery light, and the hag was fully covered in flames now.
"Orym, come back to us!" Dorian called. He could tell that the spell had wrenched Orym's mind somewhere else, made him see or feel something that wasn't real. He tried to use a bit of magic to help Orym return to his senses, but Orym's eyes remained clouded. He was fleeing now, stumbling out the door and waving his sword uselessly at the air. Dorian gritted his teeth. He could help Orym best now by getting rid of the hag. So few of his spells were good at this kind of range, but he pressed back against the wall and, seeing a piece of glass from a previously broken window on the ground, picked it up and threw it. As it sailed up past where the hag was floating, it exploded in a burst of high-pitched, thunderous sound. The hag's entire form wavered as it wailed again. Dust and bits of wood and plaster fell from the dilapidated ceiling.
"Orym, where are you going?" Fearne cried. Orym had already disappeared out the door into the snow.
"Kill it!" Dorian said. He drew his axe and threw that as well, carving a chunk off the hag's shoulder. He winced and had to cover his ears as it screamed again, sending a wash of freezing cold, sickly energy through his body. Some of his life seemed to drain from him, and he felt nauseous.
Looking similarly ill, Fearne reached towards the open door. A blade formed from the snow that was falling. It shot towards the hag, buried itself in its chest, and exploded in a flurry of ice and snow. At the same time, Mister launched a flaming seed, and the hag seemed to lose its tether on whatever it had that passed for life. With a shower of sparks and ashy smoke, it disappeared.
"Do you see any more of them?" Dorian asked once he could stop coughing.
"No, it's clear. Orym!" Unbothered by the freezing snow, Fearne dashed out the door. "Orym, where are you?!"
Dorian wrapped his cloak around himself and followed. It was probably around sunset, but the heavy snow clouds meant that it looked as dark as the middle of the night. "Orym!" he echoed. "It's safe, come back! Orym!"
There was no answer. "I'll look that way," Fearne announced. She headed out away from the cabin.
Almost instantly shivering again (he had just gotten warm inside the cabin when the hag had appeared), Dorian set off to look around the other side of the structure, his boots crunching through the fresh snow.
"Here!" Fearne exclaimed a few moments later.
Dorian ran to her voice. He found her kneeling in the snow beside an unconscious Orym, who was half covered in snow from the swift winds that were blowing. "Orym? Orym!" Dorian said helplessly.
"He doesn't look like he's doing well," Fearne said. She scooped him up off the ground. His sword and shield tumbled down into the snow, and Dorian grabbed them before they could get buried.
"Is he hurt?!" Dorian demanded. He didn't see any blood, but not every injury left a mark.
"Not again," came a weak whimper from Orym's lips. "Please, no, it can't...not here, not again."
Fearne cradled him in her lap and shushed him, looking him over for wounds. "Nothing I can see, but...we should try to heal him anyway, don't you think?"
Dorian reached out and touched Orym's cheek to cast a healing spell at the same time that Fearne did. Orym's skin was cold. He kept his hand there as Orym gasped and struggled to sit up, fumbling around like he was trying to grab his weapons.
"Safe, we're safe," Dorian told him quickly.
"Where did they go?!" Orym cried. He looked around wildly. "They were--here, they were back, where did they--" He kept fighting to sit up even as Fearne and Dorian tried to keep him still. "You can't--let me go, I have to--you don't understand, we're in danger ! They're here!"
Even though Dorian knew that whatever Orym had seen had only been inside his head, it didn't stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sheer panic in Orym's voice.
"It's just us here now," Fearne promised him. "Everybody else went away, we killed them. We got them. We weren't going to let them hurt you."
Seeming to realize that he was trembling too much to actually sit up, Orym went limp. "Y-you killed them?" he said hoarsely.
Dorian pressed the hilt of Orym's sword into his hand, letting him take it and clutch it like a child's comfort blanket. "We killed the hag, o-or ghost, or whatever it was," he said. "That was the only thing here, we checked. I saw it cast something at you. It made you see things. Nothing else was really there. I promise, Orym, I promise."
"Oh," Orym managed to say. "It wasn't...they weren't…" He shuddered.
"Fearne, we're going to freeze out here," Dorian said swiftly. "Orym, can I just--" He put his arms out, handing Fearne the shield, knowing that Fearne would probably struggle to carry even Orym's slight weight and that Orym didn't look capable of walking easily right now, but not wanting to just pick him up without asking.
Orym barely hesitated before nodding and reaching out in return. "Sorry," he said as Dorian lifted him up.
Pushing back towards the cabin, Dorian held Orym close to his chest to protect him from the snow. "What? Why would you be sorry?"
"I know...I think I can see that it wasn't real, now you've pointed it out." Orym was shivering so hard that his words came out shakily. "Let it get to me. Distract me. Left you two alone. I'm so sorry."
"That thing hurt you and showed you something that scared you. It should be sorry, not you," Fearne stated. "If I hadn't already killed it, I'd kill it again. Just for scaring you."
Orym let out a sound that was worryingly close to a sob.
Trying to figure out what to say, Dorian pulled him even tighter to himself. "It's not your fault," he said. "It's alright, wait 'til we're warm, and we can talk about it."
Exhaustedly, Orym closed his eyes.
They were back inside the cabin soon, and Dorian placed Orym down to sit on the ground. “Hold on, let’s set up and get a fire going,” he said.
Already, Fearne was inspecting the small brick hearth. She gathered up the firewood that someone had thoughtfully left beside it, as well as the pieces of a broken chair in the corner, and soon had a small but hot fire burning. Dorian took the dusty little wooden table, propped it up on its side, and used it to block the shattered window where gusts of frigid air and snow kept blowing in.
“Here,” Fearne said. She had taken a blanket from her bag and put it around Orym’s shoulders. “How are you feeling? Did it hurt you, or just…?”
Orym didn’t make any effort to keep the blanket around him, so it just sort of slipped down. He brought his palm up to his forehead, still visibly shaking. “Don’t know,” he admitted.
“I have a couple of spells left, do you want me to try healing you?” Dorian asked. He knelt down with them and took the bedroll out of Orym’s pack and spread it out on the floor, gently nudging Orym to sit on it so he wasn’t directly on the cold ground.
“Please don’t,” Orym said. “Both of you, please, keep–keep the spells, in case we’re attacked again, I don’t…”
“Okay, okay, it’s alright,” Dorian hastened.
He buried his face in his hands and shuddered again.
“What happened ?” Fearne asked directly.
“Not sure.” There was a pause. “There really wasn’t anything else around but that one creature?”
“Just the one,” Fearne assured him.
“Are you sure ?” Orym pleaded. “Completely sure?”
Dorian pulled the blanket back up around Orym and held it in place. “Completely sure. I swear, Orym, we saw what happened. It hit you with some magic, your eyes turned grey, and you were looking around at empty space. You ran out of the cabin, you must have collapsed, and me and Fearne killed it and came to find you.”
“I can’t believe…I–I’m so sorry,” Orym choked out. “I thought I was…thought there were…and they were getting away, I had to…”
Fearne ran her fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t real,” she said. “Like…like a bad dream. Except you were awake.”
“Are you hurt at all? Are you in pain?” Dorian reiterated, needing to know if he should ignore the request to save his spells and heal him.
"Got an awful headache, but I think I'm fine," answered Orym. "I…" He raised his head and looked at his shaking hands. "H-how long was I out?"
"A minute, maybe less," Fearne said. She rubbed her hands up and down his arms and patted the top of his head, sending a puff of steam up from his damp hair. "Long enough to get pretty cold, hm?"
Orym managed a small laugh. "A bit, yeah."
"Get a little closer to the fire?" suggested Dorian.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," Orym insisted. "I--" His voice broke.
Dorian winced, and Fearne frowned. "Orym? What did you see?" she inquired.
Orym started to shake his head.
"Please tell us," Dorian said softly. "If you can."
He reached for his shield, which Fearne had placed beside him, and pulled it to his chest, holding it tightly and putting his forehead down onto the edge of it. "It was just a spell, right? A-an illusion of some sort? But...it was from my head, not…"
"There are some spells that do that," Fearne said. "I don't know them, but I know they exist."
"I just…" Orym gripped the shield harder, his knuckles going white. "They just appeared, out of the shadows, jumping down from the ceiling. There were four of them, they…"
"Four of who?" Fearne asked, just as Dorian felt his heart sink as he guessed what it was that Orym had seen.
"The assassins, the ones who attacked Zephrah six years ago," Orym whispered. "Grey hoods, faces covered, their weapons...dark with venom. They move so fast, I…"
Dorian touched his arm briefly. "They weren't real this time," he said, wishing he could say something better to reassure him. "They weren't really here."
"I know," Orym said. "I know. It tricked me, I shouldn't have believed it."
"Wasn't your fault," Fearne told him. "Sometimes spells just happen and they take control of your head and it isn't your fault."
"It's terrifying," Orym mumbled under his breath.
Dorian agreed. Magic could be awful.
"Anyway. Um." Orym cleared his throat. "Like I said, just a headache now. I'm fine."
"You don't have to be," Fearne commented. "Do you want to just be upset for a little while?"
"Ha. I don't want to be, but I'm...definitely upset," Orym allowed. He was slowly relaxing his hold on his shield until it was sitting flat on his lap. "Would you two mind just...staying close? We should keep a watch tonight, but even on top of that, I...please?" His face was uncovered now, but he wouldn't look at them.
"Sure," Fearne replied. "You still look pretty cold. Do you want to cuddle?” She held one arm out.
Dorian expected Orym to politely decline, as he usually did when any of them tried to invite him in for any physical affection, so he was surprised when Orym nodded and practically crumpled against her side. “Yes, please,” he mumbled. He smoothed his palm over the metal edge of his shield.
Fearne put her arm around him. Her fingers wrapped around his shoulder, holding him with the slight possessiveness she tended to have with the people she cared about. And Orym let her. Dorian found himself sliding even closer, wanting to be near both of them. He saw Orym wince and tilt his head slightly. “Is the headache really bad?” Dorian asked softly.
“Mm. Pretty bad. Not like it was right before I, um, blacked out,” Orym said. “That was really bad. Now it’s just bad.” He rubbed at his temple and winced again. “Nothing some sleep won’t fix.”
Dorian stretched his hand out. “May I?”
“Don’t–I already said, don’t waste spells,” Orym protested.
“No, no,” Dorian said quickly. “I’m not. Can I touch you, though?”
Orym nodded again, and Dorian put his hand down on the back of his neck, starting to massage at the tense muscles. He didn’t press very hard, not wanting to risk hurting him. There was a soft sound of realization and then Orym sighed and relaxed a bit. “Thanks,” he murmured.
Dorian hummed a few notes, not casting a spell but pouring a little of the healing magic he could use over a longer period of time into the music. He kept rubbing Orym’s neck, moving to his shoulders and then his scalp after a while, still humming. Eventually, he looked over at Fearne, meeting her eyes. "Time for bed?" he asked.
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding. "Orym, do--"
"I can watch," Orym said immediately, sitting up straight and pulling away from Dorian's hands at the same time.
"No, actually, I think you should sleep first," Fearne said.
"But I--" Orym hesitated, seeming to realize that he didn't have any good excuses. "I don't want to sleep," he confessed. "I know I should, I have no real reason not to, but…"
"You're scared?" Fearne said.
Orym nodded.
"What if you slept right in between me and Dorian?" she suggested. "While we both stay up and keep watch for a while. Would that feel safer?"
"...yes, actually." Orym ran his fingers through his hair, which was already mussed from Dorian's massage. "But it's alright, it's...you don't have to. No need for both of you to watch, either, I know I'm being overly cautious."
"Well, I'll take first watch by myself, then," Fearne told him. "You know I won't let anything hurt either of you." Mister growled in agreement.
With a slight smile, Orym said, "Oh, I know. Thanks, Fearnie."
She reached out and cupped his face in both hands briefly, then kissed his forehead and stood up to check around at all the corners of the room.
As he got out his own bedroll and spread it out near the other one, Dorian tried not to stare at Orym. However, his pained, melancholic expression at Fearne's kiss and the way his shoulders slumped when she walked away was hard to ignore. He thought about offering a hand to hold, but doubted whether it would be welcome. "Sleep?" he said softly.
"In a minute." Orym went back to tracing the edges of his shield.
"Did Will give that to you?" Dorian heard himself ask, and wished he could retract his words. Why would he ask something so personal when Orym was already so upset?
He didn't appear thrown by the question, though. "He did," Orym said simply. "A gift, to keep me safe." He reached for his sword, touched the handle. "I gave him this. Just a shortsword, he was learning dual wielding and wanted something small to start with." He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else and then hesitated, shaking his head slightly.
"What is it? You don't have to, I just...I'm listening," Dorian said.
"I've wondered," Orym said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper and Dorian had to lean down to hear him, "if I should have gotten him a shield too, instead. If it would have protected him like it did for me. But I know that's not a productive thought. Just something I wonder."
Dorian didn't know what to say.
"I've never said that out loud before," Orym added, not looking at him. "Thank you. For listening. And for asking."
"Of course."
"I really haven't talked about him much, since he died," said Orym.
Fearne was coming back over, crouching down with a look that said she had heard most of the exchange with her excellent fey ears, but she didn't say anything.
"Well, we--I certainly don't know what the best questions to ask are, or how to really help, but...I'm always here to listen if you want to talk," Dorian managed. "Anytime."
"Means a lot. Thank you." Orym swiped at his eyes, even though they looked dry. Maybe he was just tired.
Fearne seemed to have the same thought. "Is there anything you need from us so that you can sleep?" she asked.
"No, no, just...I'm just thinking, a lot. My head hurts," Orym said, like he thought he needed an excuse. "Feels better, after Dorian...but still hurts a bit. Sorry, I'll go to sleep soon. I'm going to stretch first."
Fearne narrowed her eyes and stared at him for a moment longer than felt comfortable, and then stood up to pace the perimeter again.
Dorian suddenly felt absolutely drained. He loosened his collar around his neck and laid down with his arms folded under his head. "If you need anything, anything at all," he said sleepily. "Just ask. We're here."
"Thanks," Orym whispered. He wasn't stretching yet. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight." Dorian closed his eyes.
Over the next fifteen minutes or so, he heard Orym shift around, probably doing some actual stretching at some point, and then lay down and breathe deeply. He tossed and turned a bit after that. Dorian was almost asleep when he heard a frustrated sigh. "Damn it," Orym muttered. "Dorian? Are you still awake?"
"Mm-hmm," Dorian replied. He forced himself to open his eyes and blink away the drowsiness. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep." He sounded almost angry at himself, or at least annoyed.
"I'm sorry. Is...are you...what can I do?" Dorian said.
Orym wasn't facing him. "I'm...cold, I think?"
"We're about as close to the fire as we can be, but maybe you could move a little closer--"
"Could I sleep closer to you ?" Orym asked. His tone was very casual, but his voice shook just a little, and the facade was gone when he added, "Please? I-I just think it would…"
Dorian was already shifting closer to him. "Of course, Orym, come here."
Quickly, Orym curled up a couple of inches in front of Dorian's chest, his back facing him.
"Is that helping?" Dorian said, wondering if he should put a hand on his shoulder or something. Initiating touch like that was difficult for him, especially if it wasn't for a specific purpose like trying to help Orym's headache earlier.
Orym hesitated.
At this distance, and with his eyes open now, Dorian could see deep tremors course through Orym's body beneath the blanket covering him. "Still cold?"
"Mm. I'm just...not feeling well," Orym mumbled. "Cold. Yeah."
Now he did reach out and put his hand on his shoulder, sitting up. "Fearne," he called quietly, and Fearne rushed over.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Orym tried.
At the same time, Dorian said, "He's still cold."
"Oh, do you want to be closer to the fire?" Fearne asked, gesturing towards the flames and causing a bright white-hot flicker.
Orym shook his head. "It's not actually cold, I just...can't get warm. Or don't feel warm. It's okay, you two, I'll be fine."
She was kneeling next to him and putting her hand under his chin to tilt his face up. He let her. "You just look very pale," she observed. "A little like the snow. You need to rest."
"I'm tired ." His voice broke. "Fearnie, I want to be asleep. I tried, I couldn't." He sounded like he was on the brink of tears.
"Orym…" Dorian began.
Orym flinched away from Fearne's touch now, curling up again with his face buried in his arms, like he was trying to make himself look even smaller than he was. Like he could make himself small enough that he would just disappear, and they wouldn't have to bother with him anymore. It made Dorian's chest hurt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, guys, this is ridiculous," Orym mumbled.
"So what? You're unhappy, we’re going to help you," Fearne stated. She kept threading her hand through his hair delicately. "We don't care if you're ridiculous."
"It's alright, Orym," was all Dorian could think to add at the moment. "We're here, it's alright."
"Sorry," Orym repeated, letting out a stifled sob.
The ache in Dorian's chest worsened, and he pushed past his hesitation and started rubbing Orym's back over his armor, hoping he would find it reassuring. "Shhh, don’t," he whispered. "Nothing to apologize for." How many times had Orym said something similar to him? Don’t be sorry. Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s okay.
"I know, I'm…I wish I wasn't reacting like this." Orym sniffled. "I just feel awful ."
Dorian winced. “I’m sorry, I know you told me not to–” He cast another healing spell as he brought his hand up to cradle the back of Orym’s neck. “Sorry, sorry.” He prepared himself for Orym’s irritation.
Orym shuddered, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Oh,” he breathed. “Okay.” With a long sigh, he raised his head to look at Dorian. “Don’t do that again,” he said mildly. “But thank you. That’s…better. Thank you.”
Dorian just nodded, relieved that he wasn’t more angry.
After a second, Orym put his head down again.
"Better enough that you can sleep now?" Fearne asked.
"Mmm…" Orym said doubtfully. "Sure."
"Okay, I'm not positive, but that didn't sound very honest," Fearne said.
"What can we do?" Dorian asked softly. "Anything that would help?"
He shrugged.
Dorian sighed and scooted a little closer, beginning to rub his back again.
Orym let out a quiet sound. He reached back and touched Dorian's hand. Dorian started to pull away with an apology, but Orym just readjusted his hand up to rest on top of his head and settled back down.
"Oh, is--yes? This is okay?" stumbled Dorian.
"Don't want to take off my armor," Orym mumbled. "Could hardly feel where you were touching before. This is better."
"But it's--you don't mind? It's alright?"
There was almost a smile in Orym's voice as he replied, "If it wasn't alright, I wouldn't have just moved your hand to a different spot, would I? I would have told you to stop." As Dorian tried to wrap his head around that, Orym gave a thoughtful hum. "No, I don't mind the touching at all. Nobody's done this for me in a while. Didn't realize how much I missed it, actually."
Dorian didn't know what to say to that. He ran his hand over Orym's hair wordlessly.
"Do you want us to just play with your hair until you fall asleep?" Fearne asked without hesitation. "You could put your head in one of our laps. Might be warmer, too."
"Oh." There was a long pause as Orym considered that. "Don't want to ask both of you to stay up for me, I can't be on your lap while you watch."
"I'll stay up for a bit and Fearne can keep watching," Dorian said quickly. "If you want? I don't mind, I really don't. Especially if we plan on leaving a little later in the morning. And if it would help you sleep…"
Another quiet pause. "This might be silly," Orym murmured. "Might...not be a...you don't have to, I won't be...um." He cleared his throat. "Maybe you could just…"
Dorian looked at Fearne, confused. She shrugged and said, "Maybe try to finish the sentence, Orym?"
"Lay behind me?" He let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "I think I might feel less...I'm still anxious, after that illusion or whatever it was. Or even the way you used to sleep by Dariax, maybe? But like I said, don't feel like you have to."
With a strange moment of clear insight, Dorian realized what it was that Orym was struggling to ask for. “Orym? Unless you tell me not to, I’m going to lay down and hold you,” he said, more boldly than he felt. “If that’s not what you want, just tell me and I’ll let it go. But if you do–”
“Please,” Orym interrupted.
As quickly as he could, Dorian slid his bedroll over to be side by side with Orym’s smaller one. He laid down and hesitated for half a second. He didn’t really know how to do this.
Orym reached back for his hand, and Dorian touched it briefly before just pulling Orym into his arms. It felt a little strange and awkward at first, like he was trying to treat Orym like a doll, but then Orym nestled back against him and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, pulling Dorian’s arm tighter to his chest. And it was different from laying back to back with Dariax, because he could feel each and every one of Orym’s shaky breaths and he could squeeze him just a little closer, tuck his chin over the top of his head and pull his knees up until Orym was being cradled in the bend of his body.
Fearne put a blanket over both of them, spending a significant amount of time tucking it around and under and then smoothing it down over their shoulders. She kissed both of them on the forehead. “Okay, now do you think you’ll sleep?” she asked Orym.
“Better chance of it,” Orym said in a small voice. “Thanks.”
Dorian didn’t trust himself to say anything. He wondered if Orym could feel how fast his heart was beating. It wasn’t just that he was spooning with a friend that he’d had an unshakeable little crush on for months now, though that was…something. No, it was more about the fact that he’d never done this before. Never had friends growing up that he would have sleepovers with like he heard Opal talking about sometimes, never had a romantic partner he’d ever actually stayed the night with. And Opal and Dariax were both clingy in their sleep, but they certainly had never ended up like this .
It felt good, holding someone. Knowing he could make them feel safe. The fact that it was the person whose presence and protection had made him feel more safe than anyone else ever had in his whole life was a nice bonus. Even though Dorian thought he might be a little selfish for getting anything out of this when it was just supposed to be giving Orym some comfort, he couldn’t help what he was feeling.
Orym did fall asleep. Dorian could feel it, the way he relaxed and his breathing settled into a slow pattern. His hand was still clutching Dorian’s wrist, but it was a loose, gentle grip. Dorian was still exhausted, but now he didn’t want to fall asleep. He didn’t know if he would ever get the opportunity to hold Orym like this after this. In fact, he could only hope that he never did, because it would mean that Orym had gotten this badly hurt or scared again.
But the exhaustion was impossible to fight, and the fire and the contact and the blankets had made the whole cabin so warm, and he could feel the rise and fall of Orym’s chest beneath his arm. And Fearne was watching over them. Dorian slept.