Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Orym came to with a sharp knife at his neck. He froze as he felt a dribble of blood down his neck.

“I know you’re awake, halfling.” A female voice hissed. Orym slowly opened his eyes in response.

Orym could see the rest of Bell’s Hells tied up in front of him in various states of consciousness. Chetney’s head was lolled forwards and his pupils were blown wide as he struggling against whatever they’d put in him. On the other hand, Imogen was sat upright with her eyes flickering around the room. She met Orym’s eyes and he could read plenty in her eyes.

Ashton was moving their mouth but Orym didn’t hear a word. He didn’t hear anything from any of them.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Orym said as he continued to look around the room. There were multiple doors but they were all closed. He shifted in his seat and felt thick ropes pinning him in place. He couldn’t feel where the knot for his hands would be. He gently tugged on the rope, testing the strength.

Orym gasped in pain as something snapped through the air into his hands. He looked behind him and saw a figure stood there, a switch in his hands.

“Don’t try anything, halfling.” The figure growled. “This can be civil.”

“Well, you can untie me and we can have a nice chat. That would make it civil?”

“You know that isn’t going to happen.” The woman purred and took Orym’s chin gently. Orym tensed but didn’t push her away. Not that he could have. “Your group has been making a lot of hassle for my master.”

“We tend to do that. Who is your master? Maybe this is a misunderstanding.”

“Ludinus Da’leth. You know that name don’t you, halfling? You keep frustrating him. Keep getting in the way. I would just kill you but he has other ideas.”

“Ludinus sent you to kidnap us? That doesn’t seem like his style.” Orym glanced at the rest of Bell’s Hells. They were all following the conversation as close as they could in their varying states of consciousness. “How did you even get us?”

“Your watch wasn’t doing a very good job.” She gestured at Dorian who tensed up. He looked down at the floor, emotions warring across his face. “A simple spell and we have you all.”

“Well, it’s impressive. You must be a powerful spellcaster.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, quarterling.”

Orym shifted in discomfort at the name but didn’t bother correcting her. He had the distinct feeling that they wouldn’t care about his comfort.

“What do you want from us?”

“I want you to stop following Ludinus. Let the bridge stand and let us release the eternal sleeper.”

“If Predathos wakes up Exandria is going to get bad very fast. We’re just trying to help and-” Orym was cut off as the woman slapped him across the face. Orym blinked stars out of his eyes as the woman continued. Her voice was smooth and controlled as if they were old friends chatting in a tavern.

“Don’t waste my time, quarterling. Ludinus doesn’t want to kill an Exalted or her friends, but you won’t stop interfering. So, we’ve decided to put a stop to you.”

Orym glanced at Imogen who was looking between the two strangers. It made sense that Imogen would be the one to save them once again. She was a strong woman and definitely knew how to control a room.

Unfortunately, she was bound and silent in a corner.

“Why are you making this deal with me? We normally decide as a group. Maybe we should talk with all of us.”

“And give them access to somatic components? Don’t insult my intelligence. They’re perfectly safe silenced. You’re their leader and sometimes leaders need to make some difficult decisions.”

“Well what are your terms? We stop pursuing Ludinus for what?”

The woman smiled and tilted Orym’s chin up. She pressed it further than to meet her own gaze. She pushed until he was staring at the ceiling and his throat was exposed.

“You’ve misunderstood. There’s nothing we can offer you. We can’t kill you. You’re adventurers, we can’t hurt you more than you’re used to. So we’re going to need to get creative.”

Orym clenched his hands into fists as the woman placed the blade of her knife against his throat. He wasn’t used to being this helpless, if she decided he’d be dead in seconds.

“I- I do appreciate creativity.” Orym whispered, feeling the knife scratch at his Adam’s apple. The woman let the knife fall away and pressed her lips to Orym.

The world screeched to a stop as Orym felt the warm lips against his own. He was too shocked to move, to pull away. His mind suddenly settled into a new realisation.

The woman pulled back and smirked at Orym’s expression.

“You understand now.”

“You don’t need to do this.” Orym choked out. His distress seemed to encourage the woman, and she stood to her full height.

“I know. But I can. So, I will.”

The man shifted into view and Orym realised he wasn’t human; he was a half orc. His tusks were long and sharp, sharp enough to kill a man. He walked to Bell’s Hells who all watched him carefully.

“So which one should it be?” The woman asked, that infuriatingly casual tone still there.

“Excuse me?”

“Which of your companions will my friend fuck?”

Orym heard the words but they didn’t register properly. The world didn’t seem real, nothing did. Bell’s Hells in front of him had similar expressions on their faces.

“We can talk this-”

The woman slapped Orym again.

“Choose. Or I’ll make it ten times worse.”

Orym looked down the length of his friends. They all stared back at him, horror in their eyes.

Laudna was out of the question immediately. She was fragile and wouldn’t be able to withstand a half orc. Imogen was volatile and he didn’t feel like burning alive. Fearne-

Orym shuddered at the thought. Fearne was off limits. Maybe it was selfish but he was allowed to be selfish in that moment. He would have time to hate himself later.

He continued down the row. Braius avoided his gaze. Orym definitely cared the least for him but it would make an enemy out of him. And whatever tenuous connection he had to the hells. Chetney was barely conscious. Maybe that would be better. Maybe he wouldn’t remember it.

Ashton shoved their chair and Orym met their eyes. They were flinty and sure. They nodded once and Orym felt his stomach drop. Ashton would survive it. They knew pain and humiliation. They knew how to protect themselves and how to survive.

But it filled Orym with sickness to even consider offering them up.

“This one is pretty.” The woman’s voice distracted Orym. The woman stood over Dorian, his breeches down to his knees. He glanced at Orym with wide eyes as the woman cut away his underwear.

“Hey! Stop it!” Orym yelled. He tugged against the ropes in a desperate bid for freedom. The woman smiled as Dorian was exposed to the cold air.

“I told you to choose, quarterling. And I told you it would get worse.”

Orym could see Dorian trembling. The man wasn’t used to the adventuring life yet, wasn’t used to the pain. He was holding himself as still as he could but he couldn’t stop the trembling as his body panicked. He screwed his eyes shut and his breath changed to rough panting.

The woman trailed her hand down his chest and then further.

When her hand disappeared into Dorian’s crotch he couldn’t contain himself.

Dorian began to scream and thrash in his chair. He couldn’t move far enough to escape and the movement just made the woman more determined.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Orym yelled. The woman ignored him. “Me! I’ll take it!”

The room fell silent for a moment before the woman turned back to him with a smile. Dorian panted in his chair, eyes darting around in fear. He looked like a cornered animal facing down its death.

“You’ll take it? You’re awfully small you know.”

“I know.” Orym whispered. His mouth was dry and he was immediately regretting his words. Ashton shoved their chair forwards loudly and started to mouth something but Orym ignored it. He was the shield for the group. He could do this.

Orym tilted his head up and stared at the woman.

“You told me to choose someone. I choose myself.”

“What a brave little soldier.” The woman crooned. She placed the knife against his chest and slowly dragged it down. Orym stayed still as she pulled off the ruined shirt and moved to his breeches. She made quick work of them and Orym was sat there in his underwear. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe he’d keep that.

“Mar?” The woman asked. The man approached and stared down at Orym. At this distance he suddenly looked a lot bigger. “How do you want him?”

The man looked over Orym with a thoughtful expression. His eyes trailed down Orym’s bare and scarred chest and paused on his tattoo. Orym bristled at the look. He would not allow this man to sully his memory of Will.

“I want him to ride me. So all his friends can watch.”

The woman nodded and untied Orym’s hands. He turned to punch her but magic froze his limbs.

“Play nice, quarterling. This can always get worse for you.” With that she freed his legs and stood him up. The magic faded as she tied his hands again, trapping them behind his back. Orym stood there, suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was. He’d never been too particular about modesty but this was different. This wasn’t a glance here or there, this was two people inspecting his body, inspecting his flaws.

“I might break him, Iz.” Mar murmured. He put a hand on Orym’s hip who flinched back. Mar spread his fingers, covering half of Orym’s torso.

“They can heal him afterwards. Don’t kill him and it doesn’t matter. Everything else can be healed.”

Mar nodded and sat down. He fished his half hard cock out of his breeches and jerked it a few times. Orym felt faint just looking at it. This man was well endowed and then some.

“If you ask me nicely I’ll prep you, quarterling.” The woman whispered into his ear. Orym shuddered. The cock would split him in half, rip him apart. But asking for something, begging, felt so disgusting.

After a moment of silence, the woman pushed him forwards. He stumbled and was caught by the man’s strong arms. He hauled Orym into his lap and began to rub his cock against Orym’s back. Orym shuddered as he felt the length harden and grow.

“Please.” The word burst out of Orym without his permission. “Please just give me- give me something.”

“I would hate for you to die from the first thrust.” The woman mused. She stepped forwards and opened Orym’s legs more. He blinked back tears as her hand trailed down his body until a finger sank into his ass. Orym hissed in pain at the sharp, dry intrusion.

She muttered a few words and then Orym let out a scream.

Liquid began to pour out of his ass, the summoned grease too much for his body. It was too much, far too much.

“It’s a nice trick, isn’t it?” Iz asked as Orym whimpered. “I could summon enough to kill you. Right now I could kill you. One tiny spell and you’re done.”

Orym wished he could be somewhere else, anywhere else. He’d rather be facing down a dragon alone than in that cold chair. The woman pulled out her finger and Orym whimpered. She paused and smirked.

“Did you want more, quarterling? I could stretch you as well if you want.”

“N- no, please.” Orym wished he could clutch his stomach. His ass felt empty and full. He could still feel the grease slowly dripping down his body. He was sure there was a puddle on the floor and that made him even more sick.

He didn’t dare glance up at his friends, didn’t want to see their disgust.

Mar bit at Orym’s neck and he flinched away at the sudden pain. The half orc’s tusks drew across the delicate skin before he began to suck at a patch of skin. Orym felt faint as he realised Mar was giving him a hickey, a claiming bond.

“Are you go-gonna keep playing around or are we doing this?” Orym tried to make his voice strong but he knew he failed. He could hear the tremble in his own voice. Mar obviously heard it as well from the deep chuckle he gave.

“I didn’t know you were so desperate.” Mar pulled away from Orym’s neck and placed his hands on the halfling’s hips instead. Orym tensed as Mar manhandled him upwards. Orym felt something massive poke at his ass and he flinched.

“I suggest you relax, quarterling.” Iz purred out. “My magic can only do so much.”

“You want me to fucking relax?” Orym hissed. “Fuck off, bitch.”

Iz’s face dropped and she nodded to Mar. In an instant Orym was screaming. He felt blood trickle down his leg as his vision whited out. The breath was pounded out of his lungs as he sank further and further down. Tears streamed down his face as he gasped for air that wouldn’t come.

Then it stopped.

Orym felt sick as he realised Mar had bottomed out, that somehow that massive length had been shoved inside him. Before he could think about it too much Mar was tugging him up.

Red marks flowered across Orym’s hips and he tried to focus on that. He knew bruises, that was easy. The pain was simple.

Orym wasn’t even aware he wasn’t paying attention until he was slapped across the face. He looked up, blinking blearily. Iz stared down at him with cold eyes.

“You looked like you were struggling there, quarterling. As if you weren’t enjoying yourself.” Iz leant down and rubbed at Orym’s stomach. He refused to look down, refused to give her that pleasure. “You know I can stop this. You can just sit in your chair.”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

“Choose one of your friends and you can sit this out.”

Orym stared at her, barely comprehending the words. He could escape this all-consuming pain, this agony that threatened to rip him to pieces.

And he could see his family go through it instead.

“I won’t do that.” Orym whispered as new tears bubbled in his eyes.

“You want to keep going? You want to be fucked some more?”

“Don’t- don’t fucking… just get on with it.” Orym closed his eyes. It was the only small comfort he could have at that point.

“Ask for it. Or I’ll have another go at that pretty Genasi. Ask for Mar to fuck you. Now.”

Orym snapped his eyes open and glanced at Dorian. He was sobbing, eyes downcast. Orym realised distantly that his dick was still out. Dorian had always kepy a measure of privacy, Orym had never seen him so exposed.

“Please fuck me.” Orym said, each word stung as he dragged them out of his mouth. Mar bit into his neck and resumed fucking into him. The bruises weren’t enough to distract Orym. The sharp pain in his neck tugged him back to the nightmare without any escape.

Mar shifted slightly and Orym gasped as he ran across his prostate. The agony overcame any sort of pleasure and the sensation was yet another thing to add to the cacophony inside his mind.

“I’m glad you like him fucking you.” Iz purred. “I’m glad you want more.”

“Stop it.” Orym whispered. Mar immediately stopped thrusting and pulled his mouth away.

“The offer is still open. This is your choice, Orym. Just yours.”

“Fuck off. Get it over with.” Orym tried to spit the words, tried to find some vitriol left in him but it was gone. As Mar started again Orym could just feel his body being used. Because he’d chosen it.

Warm lips pressed against Orym’s and he jerked his head up in surprise. Iz smiled down.

“I’ve always been a generous lover. We don’t want you to be left alone.” With that she took his cock and began to slowly stroke it. Orym stared at her in shock before his body could even react.

That gave her time to reach up and run her fingernails down his chest. He shuddered as she passed his chest and she noticed.

“Are you sensitive?” She purred as she brought her spare hand to his nipples.

“No, no, sto-” Orym gulped and shook his head. “Not that. Please?”

“But you want it. Look.” Iz ran a hand down Orym’s cock that was beginning to pay attention. He screwed his eyes shut as the sensations overwhelmed him.

He could feel Mar gently sucking and kissing across his neck while his handprints faded to bruises. He could feel the warm hand on his cock and the pain across his face. He could feel the soft teasing of his nipples and the small nips Iz was making across his inner thighs.

And it was all punctured by the devastating thrusts that threatened much worse pain every second.

Orym looked to Bell’s Hells for a moment of relief. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Bell’s Hells stared back at him, horror across every face. Ashton was screaming, his head flickering with sparks as he tried to get free. Imogen was sobbing and had her eyes screwed shut. Orym had a brief hope that they weren’t mentally connected. She was a good woman who didn’t deserve… this.

Another solid thrust shifted his focus to Fearne. She wasn’t crying. There was a fire in her eyes that he knew. She was furious.

Braius was just staring down at the floor. He winced at the occasional loud noise but other than that he just looked away. It was, Orym decided, the kindest thing this near stranger could do. Laudna had a far off look in her eyes, as if she was talking to something or someone far away.

Orym couldn’t dwell on that for too long before his gaze slid to Chetney. He was half wolfed out and was snapping down the air as if that would do anything.

He looked at the last member.

Dorian.

The man’s face was coated in tears. He met Orym’s eyes and didn’t look away. He mouthed a few words to the halfling.

“Look at me. Nothing else. Just me.”

Orym offered a weak nod and focused on Dorian’s face. Dorian tried to smile but it trembled and fell apart immediately.

“Tomorrow we’re going on a hike. In the woods.”

The rest of Bell’s Hells didn’t seem to hear Dorian. It was as if, for a moment, it was just Orym and Dorian in a world of their own.

“Zephyr is beautiful this time of year. We’re going to walk through the woods and know it’s safe. Safe and quiet. Just our laughter. You can show me the different types of flowers and I promise I’ll remember this time. I promise.”

Orym lurched forwards as Mar sped up his thrusts. His gaze was broken from Dorian, and he was face to face with Iz. She kissed him softly, warm lips against his. There was a knot in his stomach that was growing tighter and tighter. He wanted to fight against it.

“Don’t make me- not that.” Orym begged.

“We’re not forcing you. You chose this, remember? You wanted this.” Iz scraped a nail across his left nipple, the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain to force Orym over the edge. “There you go.” Iz whispered as she pulled back. “You’ve been so good for us. Both of us.”

Orym whimpered as he came, spilling across his chest. Iz dug her nails into the abused and sensitive skin. Then Mar was finishing in his ass and Orym nearly passed out from the new shock of pain.

When the stars vanished from his eyes Orym was on the floor. His head ached as if it had been slammed into the stone. Mar bent down and ran a hand across Orym’s neck. Orym felt tiny as the man gripped his throat. One movement and Mar could crush his neck.

Instead, Mar pulled him into a kiss. Orym would have preferred the crushing. The tusks pressed against Orym’s unmoving lips as a tongue pressed into his mouth. When Mar pulled back Orym stared at him with dead eyes.

“Call me when you want more, pretty boy.” Mar growled. He placed a dagger down a few feet away from Orym and then walked to Iz.

“You’re all talented enough adventurers. I’m sure you can get yourself out of here. There’s always space beside us in this fight if you’re willing.”

The reaction she got was obviously not flattering as she pulled out a stone.

“We’ll see you around.” She cracked the stone open and they both disappeared in a familiar teleport spell.

Chapter Text

Orym shuddered as he tried to stand up. His legs collapsed and he fell back to the floor. With his hands tied behind his back he couldn’t catch himself and the hard floor punished him for it. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. The world suddenly seemed much bigger than it had. And it had already been too big.

He forced himself to his knees and began to crawl to the others. Each movement sent shocks down his spine but he tried to ignore it. He could feel eyes on him but he wouldn’t look up. He knew he must look pathetic, crawling across the floor like some kind of animal.

The wood of a chair came into view and Orym looked up. Ashton looked back down with a storm raging on their face. Orym leant back on his haunches before a painful whimper slid out. He could feel even more bruises blossoming across his ass and thighs.

Orym adjusted, he spread his legs to balance better. He whimpered as the new position sent something warm and wet slide down his legs. Ashton’s chair scraped forwards and Orym was forced to look up again.

Ashton stared down at him and then turned their body away.  Orym felt a stab of pain and worry before he realised they were exposing their hands.

Orym gripped the knife in his hands. He idly realised there were drops of his own blood on the blade. He pushed the thought out of his head and began to saw at the ropes. Every movement sent shocks of pain through his body but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

If he lay down he’d never get back up.

The knife cut through the last thread and Orym was immediately swept up into cool arms. He could feel Ashton saying something and as soon as whatever silence spell broke, their words were obvious.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry.” Ashton whispered as they took the knife and began to saw through Orym’s bindings. “Fuck, Orym, I’m sorry. We’re going home now. It’s going to be… fuck, I’m sorry.”

Orym forced himself to nod. Ashton’s arms were cold and it was nice. Orym’s abused nipples were cooled against the rock. At the thought Orym flushed. He was naked with a stranger’s cum dribbling out his ass while his own coated his stomach. He was disgusting.

“Just for a moment, okay?” Ashton said. They wrapped something warm around Orym and then vanished from sight. Orym clutched the warmth closer and tried to stop the tears leaking down his face.

He could hear Ashton moving quickly around the small room and then Fearne was in front of him.

“Hey Fearnie.” Orym whispered. Fearne slowly reached out to him, trepidation written across her face. Orym took her hand and squeezed. He felt the familiar healing magic rush through his body and he could relax a tiny bit. He knew the magic would do nothing for the bruising or the small scratches but at least he knew he wouldn’t die from some rough sex.

“We’re going to get out of here soon. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Orym forced a smile onto his face. “I can- I can grab our equipment.” Orym tried to stand. Every part of him screamed in protest as he stretched newly healed muscles and bruised limbs. Fearne grabbed his hips, right over some of the bruising. She must have noticed as she immediately let go.

“You can stay here for a bit. The others can get our stuff.” Fearne offered. Orym nodded and sank into her lap. He felt like a child there, curled up and desperate for approval.

“Is everyone okay? I know they got us pretty good. Should’ve watched my six better.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

“Fearnie-”

“No. None of this is your fault, Orym.” Fearne held Orym closer for a moment. “You were brave. Brave, nothing else.”

Orym leant his head against her chest. He could feel her heartbeat thudding under his ear. It was a familiar noise from the long nights they slept curled up together.

“Can I get my clothes back?” Orym whispered. Fearne tensed under him and Orym braced himself.

“They’re all ripped up.”

Orym sat up so he could see the chair he’d been tied to. His clothes sat there, in a mix of grease, blood and something else. Orym looked away quickly and tugged the warmth Ashton had given him tighter. He glanced down at it and realised it was Ashton’s jacket.

“They gave me their jacket?” Orym mumbled half to himself.

“Of course. You just saved us all.”

“Is everyone alright? I just- I just wanted…”

“We’re all okay. You protected us.” Fearne kissed the top of Orym’s head and adjusted him on her lap so he could see the room.

The doors were all open, several hanging off their hinges. Most of the group was nowhere to be seen. In the room it was just Ashton and Dorian. Ashton snuck a quick glance at Orym as he sat up but quickly looked away. Dorian didn’t look at him, busy sorting through a bag.

He seemed to find what he was looking for as he stood with a bundle of cloth in his hands. He glanced at Orym and hesitated. Emotions warred over his face before he slowly approached. Orym reached out a hand but Dorian stopped outside his reach.

“Clothes are in the hole but this will help.” Dorian handed the cloth to Fearne and then turned to walk away quickly. Orym stared at his back with guilt sinking into him. He’d seen everything. They’d all seen everything.

“Do you think you can stand?” Fearne asked. It took a long moment for Orym to realise she was talking to him. He shook his head. “Well that’s okay. I can lift you up.”

Fearne shifted Orym away from her and Orym grabbed a fistful of her fur. He didn’t want to be separated; he didn’t want to lose the reassuring warmth. Fearne paused.

“You’ll feel better with more clothes on. And I’ll be right here. It’s just for a moment.”

Orym kept the grip before he slowly released it. Fearne helped him stand and wrapped the cloak around him. He turned back to her and froze. There was a wet spot on her dress where he’d been sat. He could see the streaks that was still dripping onto the floor.

Orym staggered backwards and fell to his hands and knees in time for him to vomit. He heaved, feeling his stomach empty. A warm hand landed on his back and began to rub gentle circles.

“Made your dress all dirty.” Orym whispered. The hand hesitated before it returned to the gentle motions. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Fearne’s voice sounded wrong, choked up. Orym looked back at her, she shouldn’t be hurt.

Tears were streaming down Fearne’s face but as Orym looked she tried to force a smile. It looked all wrong on her face.

“We can do a bit of prestidigitation and it’ll clean up fine. It’s okay, Orym.” She opened his arms but Orym shook his head. He shuffled to sit next to her, head rested against her. “I really don’t mind, Orym. It would be alright.”

“N- no. Just… I’m fine here.”

The stone floor was cold and hard under Orym’s ass. Fearne had healed the bleeding but the bruises were still there. They were a constant reminder and sent jolts of shame through his body. Fearne took his hand and began to tap on each finger, murmuring some kind of childhood rhyme. Orym leant into the warmth and tried to focus on the rhythm so his mind would stop wandering.

After what seemed like an eternity the rest of the group returned. Imogen’s eyes were red-rimmed and she couldn’t quite meet Orym’s eyes. Laudna was in her dread form, a high neckline and a choker fixed around her neck. Chetney was in his wolf form, eyes glowing red.

“I can get us all outta here.” Imogen’s voice shook as she spoke. “We can go anywhere. What do you think O-Orym?”

Orym stared down at his hands and tried to ignore the jump in her voice. She was so disgusted she couldn’t even say his name.

“We need to report to council. Maybe where we stayed last time?”

“I can do that.” Imogen stepped forwards and paused.

“I’ve got him.” Fearne said, determination in her voice. She scooped Orym up and held him close. He let it happen as they all gathered in a circle. Imogen began the chant and Orym closed his eyes.

He couldn’t be weak. Not in front of his party. He had to be the man they saw in him. He hadn’t fallen apart when his family died, and he wouldn’t fall apart this time.

As the magic whirled around them, Orym felt his resolve strengthen. He would not be seen as broken. He would not be pitied.

Chapter Text

Orym held Seedling at shoulder level. He watched the tip wobble ever so slightly. Every movement from him was amplified by the blade, his choice made its action.

He slowly pulled it down and settled into a familiar pattern. He thrust the blade forwards in a smooth movement and then turned, prepared to thrust again.

The blade thrust forwards, his body shifted and the blade could find the next opponent.

It was a familiar pattern, a simple one he’d been taught as a child when he wouldn’t stop annoying Derrig until the man finally showed him something. It had become the starting rhythm of his day, stood underneath a cherry tree in the dawn light with Will at his side.

His feet stumbled for a moment and he froze. The bruises across his thighs were aching but he’d managed to mostly ignore it. Several hours of work had clearly irritated them. Orym shook his head and gripped Seedling until his knuckles turned white. He wouldn’t let his broken body stop him.

“You were meant to wake me up.”

Chetney’s voice made Orym jump. He whirled around and levelled the sword at the man. Chetney froze and held his hands up slightly. Orym felt his own chest heaving at the work out he’d just put it through. Seedling trembled in the air as it focused on Chetney. After a moment, Orym pulled it down and rubbed his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” That at least was true. Nightmares had become a constant, insistent companion that Orym couldn’t shift.

“Yeah, I feel you. It’s been tough.”

Orym bristled as he felt Chetney’s gaze land on his neck. Orym’s armour was built to be light so he could move around. His neck was free which left the ugly collection of hickies on full display.

“You can get back to sleep, old man. I’m fine until the morning.”

“What was that sword work?”

“Ashari training exercise. It teaches you to become one with your weapon and teaches your muscles how to use them. It’s relaxing to me.”

“Well I can understand that. You don’t know the excitement of a wolf hunt but you can do something.”

Orym sheathed the sword and sat near the campfire, looking into the darkness. After a moment Chetney sat next to him.

“Someone was meant to be keeping watch with you.” Chetney’s voice was neutral and somehow that made Orym more annoyed.

“Imogen needed more sleep. I’m fine.”

A heavy silence fell over the two of them. It was a familiar weight. In the few days since the kidnap no one had the words. They’d all seen him at his worst, and it shouldn’t surprise him they were disgusted.

“Orym…”

“How do you deal with your injuries? Your scars?”

Chetney looked down at his chest where he ripped open his skin for a transformation. He shrugged after a moment.

“It’s just who I am. What I am.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Orym could feel eyes on the back of his head. He turned to see Dorian and Laudna watching him. Dorian looked away immediately but Laudna kept his gaze with her cold eyes. Dorian leant over to her and cupped his lips before he whispered something. Laudna nodded and then stood.

She walked to the bar and sat next to him. The bar keep gave her a nervous look and suddenly had something to do at the other end of the tavern.

“You’re looking lonely, Orym.” Laudna said, steepling her fingers. “Do you want a drinking companion?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be up in a moment.”

“You have been down here for a while. Drinking.”

“Why are you two still down here then?” Orym glanced back at Dorian who looked away again. The genasi fiddled with the cuffs of his new shirt, a heavy canvas one that was several sizes too big. Orym kept staring, waiting for Dorian to look up.

He didn’t.

“You just look like you need a friend.”

“Are you two… watching me?”

Laudna’s silence was answer enough. Orym slammed half the drink back and glared down at the bar top.

“It is for your own good, Orym! You just haven’t been normal for a while. And you know I don’t love normal, but this-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Orym snapped. A few heads turned to him and he took in a deep breath. He pushed down the anger and then looked back up at Laudna. “I’m fine.”

“You know, it’s alright to not be fine. You were… hurt,”

Orym winced as he heard the pause. He was grateful Laudna didn’t embarrass him in public but it was still a reminder of what he’d done.

“Tortured.” Orym snapped out. Laudna hesitated before she nodded.

“It was only a few days ago, Orym. If we didn’t have magic you’d be… in a much worse place.”

“But you do have magic. I’m fine.” Orym stared ahead. He felt Laudna’s cold gaze rove across his bruised neck. He instinctively tugged at his collar but couldn’t bring it up far enough.

“Here.” Laudna set a bag in front of him. Orym pushed his cup aside and slowly opened it up. It was a medium sized bag with only a single bit of cloth at the base. Orym pulled it out.

It was a dark green scarf with silver highlights at the ends. Orym ran it through his fingers. It was soft and warm. He wrapped it around his neck and felt a part of his stress bleed away.

“Thank you.” Orym whispered, voice thick with emotion. Laudna smile sadly.

“Dorian thought you would prefer… something new.”

Orym glanced behind him but Dorian was gone, had vanished at some point in the conversation.

He sighed and signed for the bar keep. The man pushed another cup forward and Orym began to drink.

“Orym, we can-”

“Laudna, I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to protect me from, but it won’t work. You couldn’t a few days ago, could you?”

Orym almost felt guilty as Laudna abruptly pulled back.

Almost.

Laudna pulled a length of her hair into her hands and began to play with it. She was very purposefully not looking at Orym.

“I just want to help. And drinking alone…”

“I’m not getting wasted. I’m just… it’s just a bit.”

“We could take the bottle upstairs? Fearne has been talking about playing some games.”

“You’re free to go. I’m just fine here.”

Laudna stared at him for a moment before she gestured at the barkeep. She pushed ten gold across the counter to him.

“Keep us well stocked tonight.” She felt like it would be a very, very long night.

Chapter Text

Orym wasn’t built for swamps. He wasn’t built for most of the world but definitely not swamps. The water that didn’t even reach Ashton’s boots covered Orym’s legs and made every step a struggle.

Chetney had convinced Ashton to carry him when the gnome complained too many times about the inconvenience. Ashton had thrown Chetney over their shoulder none too gently and was jostling him just a bit too much to be accidental.

“Do you want to hop up?” Fearne asked. Orym shook his head.

“I’m okay, Fearnie. Gotta be ready for anything and I can’t do that on you.”

“I could change you into a frog?”

“That’s the same problem. I can’t protect you all as a frog can I?”

“You’d find a way.” Fearne said with certainty in her voice. Orym hesitated for a moment before he pressed on. “Do you think this stone will do anything?”

“They called it the crystal of knowledge. It sure can’t hurt to get before Ludinus does.”

“I hope it’s worth this trek. I’m going to be brushing mud out of my fur for weeks.” Fearne huffed at that and shook. The muddy water around her retreated before it seeped up to her boots again.

“I’ll brush you out when we camp, how does that sound?”

“Will you braid my hair?”

“What kinda question is that, Fearnie? Of course I will.” Orym leant over and took Fearne’s hand. She squeezed it gently and let go.

Ahead, Laudna knelt down in the water. She muttered an incantation and began to scrub away at the mud beneath the water. Orym took a step back and stared around the swamp. The witches could do their stuff while he kept watch.

From the other side of the group Ashton did the same, hefting his hammer in preparation.

Orym listened for any enemies but there was nothing. Not even birds singing. Orym took a few steps forwards and stared up at the trees. He could spot bird nests and fallen feathers but no birds.

“Hey guys? I think we-” Before Orym could finish his sentence, his mouth was full of water. Something had wrapped around his ankle and was dragging him. Orym felt his sword and shield being ripped from his hands at the high speed. Rocks scraped across his armour as he was dragged unceremoniously across the base of the swamp.

His head broke the surface for a moment and he had the time to gasp in a lungful of air before he was submerged again.

The dark water was difficult to see through but Orym could just about make out five glowing eyes all staring at him. There was a flash of white as lines and lines of teeth were revealed.

Orym braced himself as the tentacle dragged him into the mouth. The teeth closed, one piercing his armour and driving the fang through his chest. He let out a scream that was muffled by the water.

The creature rocked to the side as the water began to light up. Orym braced himself and pushed off the tooth. He felt the serrated tooth drag across his injury but he ignored it. When he was free he hesitated for a moment. It was too dark, the water was muddy and he couldn’t work out which way was up.

His lungs screamed at him in desperation. He could feel water in his lungs and his body was seconds away from rasping coughs. The cold water was everywhere, its icy fingers had clutched around Orym’s very bones and it was pulling him apart. The familiar sky was gone, swallowed by more and more darkness.

A burst of flame slammed into the creature. It was surrounded in bubbles, as if the water was boiled away instantly. A purple bolt of lightning slammed into the tentacle monster and it screamed.

Orym began to swim, using the blazing fire as a new compass point.

His chest burned as the dirty water swarmed into the open wound and his lungs were nearly empty but the water was getting lighter. He heard the creature screaming behind him but all he could focus on was stopping the coughs that threatened his small body.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around Orym’s torso and dragged him up to the surface. Orym threw his head back and sucked in the air. His lungs were full of water but he was too focused on getting more air in.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Dorian’s voice soothed as he continued to drag Orym. Orym felt something solid beneath him and then he was coughing water onto his already drenched armour. “Just take a breath.” Dorian whispered. Orym sucked in a lungful of air and went back to coughing.

“Dorian-” Orym paused to cough up more water. He sat up and curled forwards as he tried to empty his lungs out. A warm hand rubbed circles into his back. He felt his armour unclip and he could finally suck in a full breath.

“That’s it.” Braius’ deep voice shocked Orym for a moment. “You scared us there. Just vanished.”

“Is it dead?”

“No but the others have it.”

“I can help.” Orym looked around and saw Ashton slam his hammer into the creature’s head. Orym stood but stumbled as the world spun around him. He abruptly sat back down. The world continued to swirl for a moment as Orym began to cough weakly.

“You’ve done enough.” Braius pressed Orym back and after a long moment Orym followed the movement. “I can’t heal everything but I can do a bit.” Orym was suddenly aware of the blood staining his shirt and pooling on the floor.

Braius began to pull up the base of Orym’s shirt but froze as vines chained his hoof to the floor.

“Orym?” Braius asked, voice purposefully even. Orym stared at the vines for a moment. He could almost feel a sharp knife cut through his shirt. The excitement in her eyes as she prepared for the next cut. “Orym!”

Braius’ tone shocked Orym back to himself and he tugged his hand back. The thorns on the vines wilted and withered away. Braius pulled his hand back and gingerly rubbed it.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“I’ve had worse. I need to see your chest.”

“It’s fine.” Orym glanced down at his shirt. There was a large crimson stain across his chest and it was growing visibly. “Or… can’t you just do somewhere else?”

“I don’t have the skills of your friends. I need to touch the area.”

Orym chewed on his lip before he slowly tugged his shirt up. Braius’ eyes roved over his body and Orym flushed. Another coughing fit let him lean away, hide from the minotaur for a moment longer.

When his lungs had calmed slightly, he gathered his courage and sat up. The handprints at his hips were flourishing, black flowers that covered most of his torso. The hickies, the claiming marks, were clear to see.

“That looks nasty.” Braius gestured to the side of Orym’s chest. There was a gaping wound that was sluggishly pumping out blood. Orym touched it gently. He didn’t feel it for a moment. His fingers were cold from the water and he just watched as more blood trickled out.

Braius moved forwards and pressed a hand against the wound.

Part of his hand pressed against Orym’s left nipple and he let out a sob. Orym bit down on his lip and tasted copper explode in his mouth. He wouldn’t be weak. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry but I need to do this.” Braius did sound sorry at least, full of regret and sadness. Orym could remember him studying the floor at each brutal thrust.

“Uh huh.” Orym whispered. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands and tensed as the warm hand touched his chest again. He stared off at the battle behind Braius’ head.

The man’s head blocked what was happening on the surface of the water but Orym could see Dorian and Imogen floating in the air. They looked almost like avenging angels. Dorian’s clear voice carried through the battle, a perfect noise to Orym’s injured form. As if Dorian could sense the gaze, he turned back.

The two locked eyes. Dorian’s singing faltered and his boots paused their flapping. He looked away and swung to a different part of the battlefield, further away from Orym. That stung much more than the anything else.

“Here.” Braius pressed Orym’s shirt at him. Orym tugged it on and wrapped his arm across his chest. He still felt naked, vulnerable. “I can’t heal it all but you’re stable. Now your leg?”

Orym tugged his boot off and Braius took it softly.

“This is a nasty fucker. Guardian of the temple. The eclipse must have freed it.”

“Must be what caused the disappearances.” Orym murmured. It was difficult to talk while he chewed through his lip.

“I suppose so. I don’t have any magical healing left. This will have to do.” Braius held up a bottle of clear alcohol. Orym nodded. That was a familiar pain at least.

“How did you know it was going to attack? I didn’t notice anything.” Braius began to dab at the injury with a clean rag. Orym hissed as the alcohol was pressed further into the mess.

“The birds. Couldn’t hear them. They always leave if there’s a bigger predator. Or go silent.”

“The freeze response. Clever.”

“I should have noticed it before. I knew there was something but I was… thinking.”

“What about?”

Orym bit his lip as another surge of pain throbbed through him. There was only one thing he thought about when his mind wandered. It wasn’t the love for his husband or the grief of losing him. It wasn’t even fear of Ludinus.

“Doesn’t matter.” Orym choked out. He wouldn’t have a panic attack here. He wouldn’t show another weakness. Braius watched him for a moment before he nodded.

“You can walk on this as long as you’re sensible. We’ll have an early night.”

“Don’t stop the party for my sake.” Orym slowly stood and put weight on his ankle. It screamed in pain but quieted after a moment. He agreed with Braius’ assessment; it wouldn’t kill him, just hurt like hell.

Orym turned to his armour and began to pick it up. He hesitated as he saw a dry scarf on top of the pile. It was a new one, deep red with silver edging. It settled around his neck perfectly and began to warm him.

He looked up at the battle and saw it had finished. Laudna had a knife in her hand and was carving out one of the teeth.

The blazing creature ran to him. When it was halfway towards him a flash of fire spread out and Fearne stood in its place.

“Orym! Are you okay? You went down really hard!”

“I’m okay, Fearne. I’m okay.”

Fearne frowned and pulled Orym into a hug. Her skin was still warm, a comfortable warmth like being sat beside a bonfire.

“I’m okay, Fearne.” Orym whispered into Fearne’s fur. “It’s all over. We’re safe.”

Chapter Text

Orym managed to persuade Fearne to let him walk after her exhaustion began to show. She had ensured the bandages were wrapped tight before she finally relented. She had purposefully put him in the centre of the group and glared down at him whenever he tried to move.

So he trudged along, water slapping at his boots. The group was exhausted and the trail to the crystal wasn’t getting any clearer. Laudna was sure she was close but she still didn’t know where the temple was.

The burning in Orym’s leg was getting worse with each step. He trusted Braius’ medical training enough to not panic, it would heal eventually.

That knowledge didn’t stop the pain building.

“Is this is?” Laudna’s voice broke Orym out of his thoughts and he looked around. They had come across a group of boulders in a rough semi-circle. They all sat on a large piece of grass raised out of the swampland. Orym noticed a tree and limped to it. “Well, this is Draconic.” Laudna murmured, her voice fading into the background.

Orym could hear the others gather around the stones. Murmurs of Infernal, Celestial, Fey and other languages Orym had never heard of.

Oryn leant against the tree as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like there was still water in his lungs, catching at every breath. He’s coughed up an ocean’s worth but maybe there was more.

“You okay?” Ashton asked quietly. They touched Orym’s shoulder softly and Orym wanted to collapse into the touch. Ashton wasn’t a tactile person but Orym was sure they’d give the best hugs.

“Yeah.” Orym murmured as he pushed the thoughts away. He moved, shrugging off Ashton’s hand. They hesitated before letting Orym go. “I don’t know magic stuff. Unless it’s written in halfling I’m useless.” Orym forced a laugh out to placate Ashton.

“You’re not useless, Orym.”

“I was taken out first in that fight. I’d be fish food if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“And we’d be dead a hundred times over if it wasn’t for you. Plus you were taken off guard. Not fair to judge that.”

“When is life ever fair?” Orym murmured. Ashton fell into silence for a moment. The swamp bubbled around them, soft splashes and bird cry a peaceful backdrop.

“You’re not useless.” Ashton said quietly. Orym didn’t look up at them. “You protect us. And you shouldn’t ever feel like that.”

“Look at them, Ashton. They’ve got all kinds of magic shit. They’re smart.”

“And we’re tough. We take the hits so they can do their smart shit.”

“I did so well at that.” Orym murmured, mostly to himself. He tugged his scarf up around his nose and took a deep breath. It smelt of wool and a familiar perfume. He could see Ashton was preparing a speech but their attention was dragged up by Imogen’s voice.

“Ashton? Can we borrow some of your strength?”

Ashton hesitated before they hefted their hammer and walked off.

Orym watched as Ashton and Braius pushed against one of the rocks until it fell into place. A creaking and grinding noise filled the air as earth pulled apart and trickled into the new gap. The entrance to the temple was open but Orym just stood there.

What was the point of him being there? He wasn’t strong like Ashton. He didn’t have any magic shit. He was just some halfling with a sword. A memory flickered into his head and he shoved himself upright. He wouldn’t think of them. He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t think about the pleasure that shot through him. The moments of pleasure as his prostate was pressed against. The way he’d cum across his chest like a horny teenager. Like a slut.

Orym strode through the water, making sure to press down on his injured foot to force his focus. The words in his head wouldn’t stop.

He wasn’t a protector, not since he’d failed his husband. He wasn’t a guard, not since he’d exploded at the Tempest’s excuses. And he wasn’t a shield, not since he’d inflicted all of Bell’s Hells to his depravity.

Chapter Text

Orym gripped Seedling. He could feel the sweat on his palms, the faint shaking in his hands. He leant against Fearne’s warmth and stretched his hearing out.

“She’s just there.” Ashton whispered, or tried to. “We can just kill her and run.”

“I have the teleport staff.” Imogen added.

“And the guards?” Dorian hissed.

Orym tuned the group out as they began to argue. The warmth was getting to them all and he could sense it. They were crouched in the shadow of a building, drinking in the small amount of shade. It wouldn’t last, they all knew that.

“She’s see a prisoner.” Orym said softly. The conversation froze as everyone turned to him. He continued to scan the quiet streets in front of them. “The countess likes that stuff.”

“No.” Ashton stated. “No fucking way.”

“Who are we if we don’t get kidnapped every few weeks?” Orym forced a smile onto his face as the others exchanged nervous looks. “It makes sense. We can bring a bounty in and get an audience.”

“It… would work.” Laudna whispered. “She is self-absorbed isn’t she? Maybe she won’t suspect us.”

“That’s a big maybe.” Braius added. He flickered his eyes between Orym and anywhere else. Orym felt exposed, as if their gazes were pinning him down. As if they were ripping his clothes away and-

“I can do it.” Ashton offered. “I look threatening enough for them. And my titan form would break the manacles or anything else they put on me.”

“We’d lose one of our heavy hitters. And where would your hammer go?”

“I can do things without it.”

“Let’s get on with it then.” Orym said as he stood from his half crouch. He could feel everyone stare at him for a second too long.

None of them spoke.

Orym clenched his shield in his hand. He was shaking slightly from the pure adrenaline. Everything had gone to shit and he was still trying to adjust.

Laudna’s wolves disappeared in a puff of smoke and she began to back up, eyes flickering around.

“Running or fighting?” Orym yelled.

“Fight!” Chetney yelled before he threw himself at one of the soldiers again. The silver blade sliced into his fur and blood gushed across the floor. Ashton slammed the soldier back which let Chetney regain his footing.

“Run!” Braius shouted back. His armour was speckled in blood and the man looked as exhausted as Orym was.

Orym nodded and saw a mace smash into the back of Imogen’s head. She stumbled forwards with the force of it, her magic flickering and vanishing at the sudden pain. Laudna was there in an instant. She grabbed Imogen and the two vanished in a flash of darkness.

A sword sliced through the air above Orym and he shoved his shield into it. He heard a yelp from behind him and he readied his shield. It was easier to protect someone instead of just himself.

Chetney whined in a dejected dog noise but turned and ran. He slid out from the barrage of attacks at his retreating back. He picked up pace and vanished behind a building. Ashton looked around before they saluted one of the soldiers.

“Go fuck yourself.” Ashton yelled. They leant backwards and a portal swallowed them whole. A giant hawk swooped down and grabbed Braius by the shoulder. Orym watched Fearne carry him away. Then it was his turn.

“Come on.” Orym growled. He grabbed the person behind him and turned to run. He looked up into the face of Dorian and he froze for a second. Dorian stared back down with wild panic in his eyes.

That was all Orym saw before the sword slammed into Dorian’s face.

Chapter Text

Orym acted on instinct as Dorian’s blood spurted out. He turned and thrust Seedling through the soldier and raised his shield to cover Dorian. He then grabbed Dorian’s arm and started to run.

Dorian had a hand clutched to his face but blood was still pouring out from between his fingers. It looked alien against his pale blue skin as it dripped onto his grey shirt.

Orym’s heart pounded as he looked around the city. It was just closed doors and shuttered windows. The civilians obviously had some common sense. They were too deep into civilisation to hope for a clean run. Especially with Dorian’s stumbling step.

“Shit.” Orym whispered. Dorian could talk them into one of the houses but not openly wounded and visibly bleeding. Orym was useless for that. “C’mon. This way.”

Dorian followed without complaint as Orym led them down streets. It all looked so similar and Orym had no idea where anything was. His only path was away from the soldiers.

His keen eyes picked up a cellar door, secured with a rusted padlock. Orym crouched beside it and slammed his shield into the rusted metal. After a few moments the lock fell away and Orym tugged the doors open.

The first thing that hit him was the smell, a smell of moulding wood and stagnant water. Orym peered into the darkness. At one time the room must have been a storage room. There were tall shelves, some with mouldering sacks still on them. The floor was uneven and cracked with water soaking half of it.

Orym took Dorian’s hand and led him down the stairs.

“This’ll work.” Orym set Dorian against the wall, trying to keep him out of the stagnant water. He closed the cellar door and watched as most of his light vanished. There was still enough for him to see by, but only just.

Footsteps pounded overhead. Orym could see a group of soldiers, weapons in hand. They passed and Orym felt his heart unclench.

A whimper from Dorian pulled Orym to his side.

Even in the low light Orym could see Dorian was in a bad way. He gently coaxed Dorian’s hands down and hissed a low breath. His face was covered in blood and it was still dripping onto his shirt. Through the blood two bright eyes stared back.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Orym whispered. “Didn’t see him.”

“’s okay.” Dorian mumbled. Orym could see the blood seep into his mouth as his lips moved. “J’st a m’st’ke.”

“Hey, hey, stay with me.” Orym grabbed his waterskin and grabbed his scarf. He wetted the cloth quickly and dabbed at where he remembered the injury was. Dorian hissed and tried to pull away but Orym used his free hand to grab his chin. “I need to check.” Orym said quietly. Dorian stared up at him with wide eyes and then nodded.

“It hur’s.” Dorian whispered. He pressed his cheek against Orym’s warm palm and groaned softly.

“I know. But it’s going to be okay.” Orym said. The injury was nasty. It wasn’t a clean cut, the edges were jagged and it would be a miracle if Dorian didn’t scar. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” There was no answer for a long moment and Orym frowned.

He tilted Dorian’s head up so they were eye to eye. Dorian’s eyes didn’t focus on his face, slipping away every few seconds.

“Hey, do you- do you have any healing?” Orym asked, trying to keep his voice light. He had some healing potions but they were weak. He couldn’t help.

“M’ybe.” Dorian closed his eyes and tilted forwards so his forehead was pressed against Orym’s. Orym felt blood trickle down his face but ignored it. He let them sit for a long moment. The warmth of Dorian was settling. Orym could feel the man’s heartbeat, could feel his breath. Dorian was there, was alive and Orym was so fucking grateful.

Orym forced himself to pull away from Dorian. Dorian let out a soft whine but Orym just grabbed Dorian’s lute.

“I just need your lute. You need your focus.” Orym narrated as he slid the instrument from behind Dorin. Orym held the lute and sat between Dorian’s legs to press it against Dorian’s chest. He opened Dorian’s hand and placed it on the strings. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you. You just sing.”

“Sing? D’n’t th’nk I can do th’t.”

“Yeah you can. You’re my favourite bard.”

“I am?” Dorian whispered, astonishment filling his eyes. Orym hesitated for a moment. Had he never told Dorian that? Had Dorian really believed anything else?

“Yes. Now just one song, okay? For me?”

Dorian strummed the strings and hummed off key. A quiet lullaby began to fill the room. Orym glanced at the door but didn’t stop him. This was more important.

The blood pouring down Dorian’s face slowed as the wound began to sew itself back together. Dorian’s eyes slid closed as the healing pulsed through him. Orym wet his cloth and gently wiped the blood from Dorian’s eyes.

When he was done, Dorian’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Orym’s face.

Dorian immediately scrambled backwards. He half fell as he struggled to get away. Orym scrambled to his feet and stepped back. Dorian took the opportunity to shuffle several paces away and stare at the floor.

Orym felt a lump in his throat as he was left, cold and alone, with a lute in his hands.

Chapter Text

Silence reigned in the small room. Orym could almost feel it, a heavy weight on his shoulders. He sat in the semi dark and just waited. He didn’t exactly have anything else to do.

Dorian had turned away from Orym hours before and was busy sorting his pack. He had pulled out each item at least three times. Orym knew he was stalling and it wasn’t helping the tension in the air.

A regiment of footsteps marched above them and they both froze. The soldiers were talking but Orym, try as he might, couldn’t hear the words. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wall. He had no idea what to do next. He couldn’t communicate with the group. Neither could Dorian. They didn’t have any kind of powerful teleportation staff or shapeshifting abilities. Dorian was stuck with the one member of Bell’s Hells more suited to a bedroom than a battleground.

Dorian put his waterskin to his lips and huffed in annoyance. Every small noise made the hair on the back of Orym’s neck stand up. They weren’t safe.

“Here.” Orym held up his waterskin. “Yours is empty.”

Dorian stepped forwards but paused. He snuck a glance at Orym’s face then looked away.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You know, I can’t fuck you just by looking.” Orym snapped out. Dorian flinched and Orym felt a surge of sick pleasure. “I’ve seen it. You won’t touch me. You won’t look at me. You’ve been avoiding me ever since I… since I fucked them.”

“You shouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“I’ll phrase it however the hell I want. Or are we only using proper names, Brönte?”

“It wasn’t sex. It was rape.”

“It was weeks ago. What does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” Dorian turned to Orym with fire in his eyes. Orym was the first to look away. Of course it mattered.

“Are you going to leave?”

“The patrol just went past, it’s too-”

“After this.” Orym corrected himself. “After we’re out of here, are you going to leave?”

Dorian paused for a long moment. Orym could hear his own heartbeat in the silence, it pounded against his chest ready to leave his fragile body.

“Do you want me to?” Dorian’s voice was tight as he spoke. Controlled. It wasn’t the voice of the light-hearted princeling Orym had first met.

“You make your own choices.” The words felt like ash on Orym’s tongue. Dorian hesitated at that and then turned back to his pack.

“Maybe. Now that Braius is here… maybe it would be better if I go.”

Orym swallowed down a lump of words. He wanted to beg, to plead with Dorian to stay. But he refused to debase himself just to hurt a friend.

Not again.

“The Tempest can find you other people. If you want to keep adventuring. Or you could go back home.”

“I’m not going home. I can’t. Not now. Not after…” Dorian trailed off and glanced at Orym’s torn shirt. Orym shifted his shirt and winced as he felt half formed blood clots rip open.

“I’m not broken, Dorian.” Orym’s voice wavered as he spoke. He felt so very broken, hiding in an abandoned cellar with a friend who was disgusted by him. “I- they didn’t break me.”

“I know. You’re a unique person, Orym. A rare soul.”

Orym opened his mouth to apologise for snapping. He knew Dorian was stressed and most likely in pain. Dorian deserved to be angry at Orym, it just made sense. Orym shouldn’t aggravate the man on purpose.

“Don’t say that shit, Dorian. It’s… you’ve never been good at lying.”

“Maybe you’ve been too perceptive for me.”

“Guess so.” Orym murmured. Dorian opened his mouth but Orym turned away. It felt like a betrayal and vengeance together.

“Do you have any of your healing left?” Orym asked after a few hours. Dorian jumped and his pack scattered across the floor. He looked up and nodded. “My chest. I’m pretty sure it’s getting worse.”

“Your chest?” Dorian crossed the room and sank down in front of Orym. He reached for the armour latches but hesitated. Orym took in a deep breath before he pulled it off. A trickle of blood started to coat his stained shirt. Dorian took in a deep breath. “Gods above, Orym.”

“It isn’t healing right.” Orym murmured. “I think that creature, the guardian, infected it or something.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone!” Dorian’s cool fingers began to lift Orym’s shirt. Orym tensed and Dorian immediately stopped. “I need to see it.”

“Yeah.” Orym gulped and tugged his shirt off. He could feel Dorian’s eyes scour over his skin but the bruises were just reminders of his mistakes in combat. There was a particularly impressive one that turned most of his torso into a sick green.

Dorian put his hand forwards to rest on Orym’s chest but pulled back.

“Your lute will work. If you keep it quiet. You don’t need to touch me.”

Dorian grabbed his lute and strummed a few notes. Orym leant back as he felt the blood begin to slow.

“I don’t have a problem touching you.” Dorian said after a moment. Orym opened his eyes and stared at him. Dorian’s eyes were fixed on the bloody mess of his chest. “I… it’s not like that.”

“What is it like? Cause we’re stuck here, Dorian. And I don’t want… I don’t want to die with a friend hating me.”

“Hating you? Gods above, Orym, no!” Dorian’s face was full of such shock that Orym hesitated for a moment. Had he imagined the past weeks? Had he missed something?

“You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me or touch me. You just… you saw me being their bitch and-”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“It’s true, Dorian! It’s fucking true! I’ve died before and I never felt so… owned. Every time I dream I see them. I smell that fucking grease and I wake up hard. I-” Orym felt tears streak down his face but he didn’t wipe them away. “And you won’t even look at me. I… I’m theirs.”

“No, you’re not.” Dorian hissed. He hesitated before he took Orym’s hand. Orym relished in the warmth, the soft hand that enveloped his own.

“I want to be strong. I want to be strong so bad but I-”

“You are strong, Orym.”

“Then why do you hate me?” Orym whispered. “How did I fuck up so badly you can’t even look at me?”

Dorian was silent for a long moment before he hung his head. Orym was shocked to see tears drop onto the ground.

“I… I’ve done you a disservice, Orym. I’m not disgusted by you. I never have been. What they did to you doesn’t make you disgusting or- or anything like that. You survived it.”

“Barely.”

“But you did.”

“Then why don’t you look at me?”

“They touched me first.” Dorian whispered. “And- and I’m why you sacrificed yourself.”

“What?”

“She- she had her hands…” Dorian looked sick at the mere memory. “And I- I’ve-”

“I would have done it for anyone, Dorian. I did it for all of you.”

“Orym… all I knew was… her hand was on me. And I was wondering if that would be how I lost my virginity. She was touching me where no-one wh- where no-one touched me before. And then you stepped in. And you… I wasn’t brave, Orym. I’ve never been strong.”

“Brave?”

“If I’d asked then they would have done… that to me. Or if I’d kept my mouth shut. If I’d let it happen you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“You would have.”

“I’m bigger than you, Orym. Simple physics says it should have been me. You- you jumped in front of the arrow and I was glad. I have nightmares about that day. And I was barely touched. And you… Gods, Orym. I’m not disgusted by you.”

“You’ve been feeling guilty.” Orym squeezed his hand gently. “Oh Dorian…”

“And ashamed. You were so brave that day. They offered you an out and- and I could see how much pain you were in. How much you hated it but you still did it. You protected us. Protected me.”

“And the rest? The bits I… the other bits?”

“There’s no other bit, Orym. The pleasure they took… it was more of the same. It was to hurt you and I only have more respect for you now.”

“I wasn’t much to look at after. Not… not much to-”

“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for being hurt. Gods, Orym, if they hadn’t run I would have killed them slowly for what they did.”

“You’re not a vengeful man.”

“I am for the people I love.”

Chapter Text

“What was with the scarves?” Orym asked as the hours continued to tick on. He was still wearing one, a dark green one with gold accents. “Laudna said the first one was from you.”

“That first city afterwards I… I was… well honestly I don’t know how I felt. Wrong.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped.”

Dorian let out a strangled laugh.

“Help me? Orym, you’d just saved me. All of us. We were giving you space but it didn’t do anything. But you kept scratching at your neck.”

Orym reflexively reached up to his neck and hesitated. The hickes were faded, just the memory was there. Orym thought it always would be there.

“A bad habit I guess.” Orym murmured.

“Sometimes you’d get a far-off look. Like you were gone. Like you were back… there. And I… gods above, it’s selfish. I hated seeing how they hurt you. I wanted to cover up what they did to you.”

“Doesn’t cover up what’s on the inside.”

“I’m sorry about that. I’m… so sorry.”

“How many scarves did you get for me?”

“A… number.”

“Uh huh?” Orym asked with a fond smile. Dorian avoided his gaze as his cheeks began to flush purple.

“I went around several shops. I wanted to find ones you’d like. I think it was about fifteen.”

“You got me fifteen scarves? Dorian, my neck is all healed up now!”

“But you’re still wearing them.”

Orym tugged the scarf up slightly so he could feel his breath on his face. He was still wearing them. Every time he found a new one it was squirreled away into his pack. A few had ended up in his sleeping gear and he hadn’t separated them.

“Thank you.” Orym said quietly. He knew the scarf swallowed some of the noise. But he also knew Dorian heard. “They… it really helped a lot.”

“I’d do anything to help you. I mean, if you can think of any way I can help.”

Orym lifted his shirt and hissed at the injury. Dorian’s magic had done something, Orym could breathe without pain, but there was still a large circle of missing flesh that oozed blood every so often. He could see the torn edges of thread half hanging on.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Dorian murmured. Orym blinked in confusion before he processed the words. Dorian was watching him cautiously.

“I thought the stitches would hold eventually.”

“No wonder with how you throw yourself around on the battlefield! Orym, you can’t protect us when-”

“I have thread and a needle. I’ll just close it up again.”

“When we get back to the group you’re getting all the healing we can give you.” Dorian held out his hand. Orym frowned and looked up at him. “The needle and thread. You don’t think I’m going to let you do it yourself do you?”

Orym smiled and opened up his pack. He pulled out the necessary items and then leant against the wall. Dorian put a soft hand on his shoulder and Orym shuddered. Dorian’s warmth reminded him of how cold the room was.

Dorian put a hand on Orym’s right pec and Orym sucked in a breath. Dorian looked down and hesitated.

“I… I didn’t know men were aroused by that.” Dorian flushed as soon as he’d spoken. He pressed the needle against Orym’s skin and gently pulled it through.

“Dunno if everyone is. I- I’m not normally. Just…” Orym let his head hang back and he stared at the ceiling. “It had been a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Since Will.” Orym admitted quietly. Dorian’s hands shuddered and he stared at Orym for a moment. “I… I hadn’t done anything since Will before that. Thought he was going to be my last.”

“Orym…” Dorian trailed into silence and Orym shrugged.

“Can’t change it now.”

“What was he like? Will, I mean.”

“Funny. Sweet. Loyal. He was… he was my world.”

“Orym… what they did to you…” Dorian let out a sigh, as if trying to work through a problem in his head. Orym shifted uncomfortably. “That wasn’t what you and Will did. And- and I think you need to…”

“Dorian, it’s okay. I-”

“It’s not! It is not okay, Orym. It has never been and will never be. You were hurt. And that’s… that doesn’t change how we see you. And if Will was half the man you deserve it wouldn’t change his either.”

“He was twice the man. Nearly your height, you know?” Orym tried the joke but it fell flat in the stagnant air. Dorian stared at him and Orym looked away. “I… was it different?”

“Yes.” Dorian didn’t hesitate before he answer, as if it was a universal statement.

“I came.” Orym hissed the word like it was poison. “They touched me and I came.”

“And when they hit you, you bruised. Where they cut you, you bled. That’s all it was, Orym. It was a reaction that means nothing.”

“You believe that?”

“With all my heart. You took horrendous torture to keep us safe. Torture, Orym. Don’t lessen that for yourself. Don’t ignore how strong you were.”

“I… did I save us?”

“Yes. We’re alive because of your bravery. You were amazing.”

“Thanks.” Orym whispered through a tight throat. He blinked away tears and wiped his eyes quickly. Dorian was kind enough to not say anything.

Orym watched as Dorian tied the thread off and began to put the equipment away. Orym pushed himself forwards and grabbed Dorian in a tight hug. His chest screamed in protest but he ignored it. “Thank you.” Orym whispered. “For not… for not hating me.”

“Oh Orym, I don’t think I could.”

Chapter Text

Orym had hoped that when the sun set they’d be able to sneak away. But as the darkness began to draw in there was no slow to the patrols. If anything, they sped up. The soldiers were furious, barking orders to each other.

Orym could make out enough that he knew the rest of Bell’s Hells hadn’t been captured and this was only infuriating the soldiers. He knew what angry men could do and there was no way he’d let that happen to Dorian.

“Should we try to sleep?” Dorian whispered.

“One of us should keep watch. In case we need to run.”

Dorian looked at Orym doubtfully, eyes lingering on his chest.

“Will that happen?”

“Anyone could walk in here and we have no way of stopping.”

“You have a sword and shield.”

“I can’t put up much of a fight at this point, Dorian. If they come in… well let’s hope they won’t.”

“So we just sit here until what? We don’t have any water left and your chest could get infected very easily.”

“So could your face. Can’t have that.”

“I’m serious, Orym.”

Orym nodded and sat up. He tried to bite back a hiss of pain as he adjusted. Dorian’s expression told him he’d failed.

“I don’t think I can run.” Orym whispered. “And the others haven’t reached out to us.”

“They could still be trying. Sending is a bit tricky for now but they’re smart.”

“Dorian… if they do come in here, run. I can hold them off.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Dorian grasped Orym’s hand and squeezed. The touch centred both of the men and Orym managed a small smile.

“I’ll be just behind you.”

“You just said you couldn’t run.”

Orym smiled weakly and shrugged.

“You’re too smart for me, Dorian. If they come in here, we’re both dead. Or you can get out of here.”

“You shouldn’t be this hurt after one battle. I’ve seen you come back from worse.” Dorian raked his eyes over Orym’s body. He took in the slightly sunken cheeks, the muscles that pushed against skin a bit more than they should. “You haven’t been eating.”

“I’ve tried. Sleeping and eating… they’re just a bit difficult now. I’m not in fighting shape.”

“You should have said something.” Dorian brushed a lock of hair out of Orym’s face and he smiled.

“We’ve had a good run. Don’t ruin it by being mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, Orym. I’m just… I wish I’d been there.”

“You’ve been beside me every step of the way. All the way back to taking that crown.”

“But I haven’t helped you as much as I should have. And don’t try to argue that. It’s just true.”

Orym squeezed Dorian’s hand and shrugged.

“Let’s wait until morning for eulogies.”

Orym woke to a soft warmth at his side. He didn’t move for a long moment as tiredness tried to drag him back down. He leant against the warmth and heard a reassuring heartbeat thrum back.

The world faded away as he lay there, comfortable to just exist. The body next to him moved and Orym let out a grunt of complaint. He didn’t remember the last time he was even close to this comfortable.

“Go back to sleep, little moon.” A familiar voice murmured. Orym froze as he heard the man walk around. There was an exhale of air and then the scent of bluebells and candle smoke filled the room. Warm hands adjusted the blankets around Orym’s body and he felt soft lips on his forehead.

Orym opened his eyes and stared up at Will. The man stood over Orym, bare chested and showing off his tattoo. He looked healthy, as if he’d never been on duty that day.

“Will?” Orym whispered. He sat up and whimpered. Will sat on the bed and gently pushed him back down.

“Shh, shh. You’re still injured.”

“Where am I?”

“In our room, of course.”

Orym looked around the room. It was simple and plain. The bed took up most of the room with various blankets covering it. He touched the one Will had just wrapped around him. It had been an impulse purchase from a travelling merchant. It always smelt ever so slightly of spices that Orym couldn’t name.

“You’re dead.” Orym whispered.

“Yeah I am. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It should have been me. It-” Orym broke off as Will wrapped him in a tight hug. Orym clutched onto his arm and took a deep breath in. The smell had long since faded from any of Orym’s clothes but in that moment it was all encompassing.

“If I did one thing right that day, it was keeping you alive. I will never regret that. Never.” Will kissed the top of Orym’s head and let out a sigh.

“Are you really here? Are… are you real?”

“I’m real enough.” Will let go of Orym but kept their hands entwined. “My little moon, I’m so sorry what the world has done to us. To you.”

“You…”

“I love you, Orym. I married you and I have never regretted that choice. You are my everything.”

“Still?”

“No matter what.”

“Will… can… can you hug me?”

Will smiled and clambered back into the bed. He pulled Orym against his chest and wrapped an arm around him. He took Orym’s hand in his and interlocked their fingers. Orym leant back in the familiar embrace and felt tears fall down his face.

“I love you, Will. I- I always have.” Orym choked out. He felt soft lips at his neck before Will spoke again.

“I love you, my little moon. Now rest. I’ll protect you.”

Chapter Text

Orym watched as Dorian slept. He murmured in his sleep, jerking every so often. Orym had been careful to keep quiet. Dorian could do with a bit more sleep.

This was probably their last night after all.

Orym’s eyes traced Dorian’s face and he sighed at the long cut across it. If Dorian got out of here it would probably scar, a flash of silver across his blue face. Until recently Orym would have said that visible injuries were the worst.

Now he knew it was more complicated.

But somehow Dorian still looked at him with kindness in his eyes, as if what had happened was just another hurt.

Orym forced himself to his feet and grabbed his shield. He hesitated before he took Dorian’s rapier from his side and lay Seedling on the floor.

“Bring it home?” Orym asked quietly. “It should be buried with Will.” He bent down and gently kissed Dorian’s forehead. He walked to the cellar door and listened.

The soldiers had only been searching for one person. Orym wasn’t sure where that confusion had come from, but he could take advantage of it. If they found an armed and injured halfling ready to fight they would stop looking.

A genasi bard would be able to slip through without too many questions. And Dorian could talk his way out of anything.

Orym knew it made sense, knew it was logical. He couldn’t run and he couldn’t put up a real fight. They couldn’t keep hiding in a cellar while their wounds healed up. They needed to leave.

So Orym would make sure Dorian did.

Orym tried to put his hand forwards to push the door open but he couldn’t. Fear froze him to the spot as he just stared at the wood. Tears formed in his eyes. This was his purpose. He was meant to be their shield, meant to protect them.

A smell made Orym turn his head. The soft scent of bluebells. He stared at the pack on the floor, half open. At the top sat a Sending Stone. Orym could have sworn it had ended up in the Bag of Holding.

But Orym wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He held it to his mouth and activated it.

“Mr Widogast? I need help. We need a teleport somewhere else or we’re going to die. Please.”

The stone was silent for a long moment and Orym felt his heart plummet with each passing second. His hands shook. He had a piece of hope in his hands, he couldn’t imagine throwing it away now.

Eventually the stone responded.

“I will find you.”

Orym stared at the stone in disbelief. The message ended and Orym waited. He could feel a vague prickling at the back of his head but as he looked around he saw nothing.

“Mr Widogast? Please? Please help us.” Orym whispered. A slice of hope was always worse. He dropped the Sending Stone onto his pack and took a deep breath. The rapier shuddered in his hand as he turned to the hatch.

Before he could step forwards a small amber bead appeared in mid-air. It began to grow, swelling as it tore reality apart. In a few seconds a familiar man stepped out.

Caleb Widogast looked like he’d been dragged from sleep. His coat was wrapped around him tightly and his hair was in disarray. Orym realised in the back of his head the man wasn’t even in shoes. Just house slippers.

Behind him a blue tiefling slipped into the room.

“You’re here.” Orym whispered. Caleb walked over and crouched in front of him. Orym knew the man was seeing something deeper than the surface, but he didn’t have the energy to care.

“Oh! A Genasi! I didn’t know there was a Gena-” Jester was cut off as Dorian staggered to his feet and levelled Seedling at her. Dorian’s eyes darted around the small room. Orym offered him a tired smile.

“They’re friends, Dorian.”

“Friends? You’re sure?” Dorian asked, Seedling shook in his grasp and his whole body seemed to be copying it.

“I want to be your friend!” Jester said. She stepped closer, ignoring the blade in mid-air. “Caleb says you’ve talked before and Beau is very interested. And the horn nature lady said you were really cool!”

“You’ve talked to the Voice of the Tempest?” Orym asked. He staggered to his feet and Caleb held out an arm for him. Orym hesitated before he took it, steadying himself against the man.

“Yes! She was very nice. She told us all about Bell’s Hells! But where are the rest of you?”

“We had to separate. I don’t know where they are. But the city is crawling with soldiers who want to kill us. Can you get us out of here?”

“Ja. Hold hands.” Caleb moved his hands in practiced motions and spoke under his breath. Orym felt the familiar tug of teleport as he left the cellar he thought would be his tomb.

Chapter Text

As they stepped out of the teleport Orym staggered on his feet. Caleb tried to keep him upright, but he wasn’t a very strong man. Instead, Caleb helped Orym collapse to the floor. Dorian walked over to him and sat next to him.

He then looked around the room. It was a large sitting room with several couches long enough for a large group to sit comfortably. The walls were painted with wildflowers and there were several pressed hanging on the walls.

“Why do I have Seedling?” Dorian asked as he held the sword out for Orym. Orym gripped it tightly, fingers playing over the hilt.

“I’ll tell you later.” Orym murmured. He hoped Dorian would ignore the lie in his voice. Dorian hesitated but then turned back to the near strangers.

“Willkommen to our house!” Caleb threw his arms out and small sparks flew from his fingers. Jester giggled at the sight.

“You’re getting so good at that, Caleb!”

“Thank you, Mr Widogast. We don’t want to overstay our welcome. Is there- could you try to contact the rest of our group?”

“Jester?” Caleb asked. Jester turned and nodded. “Try the woman with purple hair. I believe she can respond.”

“I’ve talked to her before!” Jester closed her eyes and began to talk. “Hi! This is Jester! Orym and your blue friend are with us and they’re okay. Is there-?” Jester broke off and clutched her head as a spike of pain shot through her head. Caleb touched her shoulders gently and sat her down.

“No luck?” Caleb murmured. “It is such a… what is the word… a crap shoot.”

“We have other ways to get around.” Orym said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Thank you Mr Widogast, Miss Jester. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“You can stay for the night.” Caleb offered. “You look like you need it.”

“We don’t want to intrude on-” Dorian was cut off as Jester grabbed his hand. Her grin was infectious and he felt some of the tension relax from his shoulders.

“Come on! I’ll show you your room!” Jester squeaked with excitement and rushed to the door. Dorian knelt down and offered a hand to Orym. He took it and slowly stood. His legs shook and there was a big part of him that just wanted to lie down and stay down.

“You okay?” Dorian whispered. Orym nodded and took a few steps forwards. Jester surged into his view and she cocked her head.

“Are you hurt?” Jester put a hand to Orym’s armour straps and he stumbled backwards. Dorian stepped in front of Orym and scowled, a hand moving to cover Orym.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” Dorian half growled. Orym saw how Caleb adjusted himself, a hand sliding under his coat to some pocket. A half dead red weasel crawled out of Jester’s collar and stared down. Jester herself just looked confused.

“It’s okay. Just took me by surprise.” Orym murmured. He unclipped his armour, showing off the bloody stain on his shirt. “If you have any healing it would be helpful.”

Jester nodded and knelt down. Her hands hovered above the wound as she began to murmur something.

All healing magic felt different, Orym had learnt over the years. Braius’ burned just on the edge of pain and left sour sulphur in Orym’s mouth. The Tempest’s healing filled him with energy and reminded him of standing on a cliff edge, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t fall. Dorian felt like cool water flowing through his body.

Jester’s felt like hands. Orym tensed as he felt phantom hands wrap around his shoulders. He could almost feel breath against his ear, a strange smell of the deep wilderness and blood flooded his senses. The foreign hands covered his chest, the fingers stretching far too long and then they were gone.

Orym shuddered and took a step back, away from Jester. He could almost feel the phantom hands gripping his hip, pinning him in place.

“Orym?” Dorian asked quietly. Orym felt his entire body shaking and bile rose in his throat. He looked up at Dorian, unable to form words.

Orym’s eyes snapped to the door as a half orc walked in. Orym shoved Dorian behind him and levelled his sword at the man. Orym’s eyes flashed black for a second and then a dark fog wrapped around the half orc’s neck.

The half orc’s tusks were large and sharpened to a point. Orym could feel his neck prickle at the sight of them. Sharp tusks dug into his soft skin as teeth descended on Orym’s neck. A massive hand covered half of his chest as it held him in place.

The broad body of the half orc pressed against him as he crushed Orym’s hands behind his back. Rhythmic grunting threatened to tear Orym in two.

“Whoa, whoa friends.” The half orc said as he lifted his hands in warning. Orym blinked in surprise and looked around. The half orc wasn’t close to him, hadn’t touched him. Orym was in a living room, fully clothed.

“It’s okay, Orym.” Dorian whispered. “It’s not him.”

Orym took a deep breath and slowly lowered his sword. He sheathed it but kept the shield flush to his chest. He saw Caleb’s hands inch away from his component pouch.

“Mistook you for someone else. I’m sorry.”

Orym glanced at the half orc and forced himself to see the differences. He was scrawnier than Mar, thinner and shorter. His tusks were smaller and the ends were blunted. He didn’t carry a weapon and he was in a dressing gown. Orym dragged the hex away and let it dissipate into the ether.

“Easy mistake to make. You must be Bell’s Hells?”

Dorian stepped up and forced a smile onto his face. Orym took a step back, feeling the world spin around him. He’d been so close to running the man through just because of his species. Half orcs weren’t common but he’d seen others. Why was this one so different?

Orym tugged his scarf down and touched the side of his neck. The skin was smooth and unbroken. There wasn’t even a tug of pain from old bruises. He was fine.

“Orym?”

Dorian’s voice broke Orym out of his trance. He snapped his head up and looked around. The half orc was gone, leaving the two of them alone with Caleb. Orym clenched his hand on his shield before he slowly slotted it into place on his back.

“I don’t know what happened.” Orym half whispered. He stared at the floor as he spoke. Dorian gently took his chin and tilted so they met eyes.

“A mistake. That was all.”

“I believe you two require sleep.” Caleb broke in. “Do you want to follow me?”

“We’d be delighted.” Dorian took Orym’s hand and slowly led him through the house. Orym was glad about the solid grip, he wasn’t sure he could stand on his own. At some point Dorian stopped walking and Orym stumbled for a moment.

“Is your friend okay?” Caleb asked quietly. Orym went to answer before Dorian spoke first.

“It’s been a long day. Some sleep will do us good. And… I’m sorry for your friend.”

“Fjord will be fine. Just look after your friend.”

Orym heard Caleb walk off and the door closed. He blinked for a few moments and the room slowly came into focus. He didn’t feel grounded, as if part of him was still floating.

“Come on.” Dorian said softly. Orym felt himself sink into a soft surface. Then Dorian’s hands were on him, gently removing his pack and his shield. Orym felt a soft humming and then there was a warmth against his side.

A soft song filled Orym’s head and it resonated down his side into his chest. Every note reverberated and tugged him a tiny bit closer to the ground.

After a time that Orym didn’t know how to compute, he settled back into his body.

“What happened?” Orym murmured. The singing stopped and Orym just had time to mourn it before Dorian enveloped him in a hug.

“Orym, thank the gods.” Dorian whispered. “You weren’t here. You vanished.”

“Oh. That hasn’t happened for a while.” Orym murmured. He stood and stumbled. Dorian’s hands were there a moment later.

“I think we should sleep. We can work this out in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Orym murmured. He went to unlatch his armour and paused. “Did you undress me?”

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I… just your armour. And your boots.”

“Thank you.” Orym tugged off his shirt and stared down at the ugly mess of bruises and cuts. The bandages were tight around his chest. He put a hand on Dorian’s arm and slowly stood. His head spun but he remained upright.

He looked around the room and took it in for the first time. It was a small, sparse room. A bed sat in the middle of the room with a chair at the side. The door had a lock on it with the key still in it.

“Guest room.” Dorian offered at Orym’s confusion. “We’re welcome to stay as long as we need.”

“That’s nice. And they were fine with…”

“I think that’s a conversation for tomorrow.”

Orym nodded and tugged his breeches down, leaving him in his underwear. He touched along his legs, finding even more bruising. He was going to ache in the morning.

“Do you have a way to clean me off?” Orym asked as he looked up at Dorian. Dorian was looking away, a purple flush warming his cheeks.

“Uh- no. I can’t. Not my ballpark.”

Orym looked around the room again and frowned.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Uh huh. Not the biggest house.”

“I can take the floor?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re dead on your feet, Orym.” Dorian played with the hem of his shirt. “I can take the floor.”

“You had a concussion earlier today. No way. We can share. I’m small enough. If you’re okay with that?”

“Sharing a bed? Yes. Yes, that makes sense.” Despite Dorian’s words he didn’t make a move. Orym tugged his shirt off and threw it aside. He sat on the bed and pulled off the bandages. Jester’s healing had obviously been powerful. The injury had shrunk to an angry red patch, skin knitted together far better than stitches could do.

“It’s good to see you uh- with that gone.”

Orym looked up at Dorian and smiled.

“You going to sleep in that?”

Dorian slowly tugged off his shirt and folded it before he set it on the top of his pack. His boots followed and then he stood by the bed. Orym tugged the blankets down and crawled onto the bed. Dorian hesitated for a moment longer, his fingers twisting in anxious circles.

“I haven’t shared a bed since I was a boy. Cyrus…” Dorian trailed off and sat down. His fingers fell still and he stared down at the blankets for a long moment.

“I’m here.” Orym murmured. He steeled himself and shifted closer to Dorian. He leant against the man and took his hand. “Sleep and we can talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Dorian breathed out. “Tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Sharp teeth nibbled at Dorian’s neck. He groaned and shifted away. The teeth stopped for a moment before they pressed closer. Dorian felt blood bubble to the surface and he snapped his eyes open.

His heart stuttered as he looked around the small space. The rest of Bell’s Hells was staring at him from their chairs, each tied and gagged. Orym was in front of them and he looked wrecked. His breeches were undone and there were scratches and bruises rising on his neck.

“This one?” A woman asked. Orym looked away but nodded. The woman smiled and took Dorian’s cheek in her hand. “Do you hear that? Your friend knows you’ll be best. Knows you can’t help any other way. You’ll just be the sacrifice. The second son.”

Dorian tried to jerk away but it felt like he was underwater. His limbs wouldn’t move as sharp teeth slashed across his neck. He gasped and reached up to touch it but his hands were bound behind him.

The presence behind him became visible as Dorian felt something hard pressed into his back.

“No. No. Please no.” Dorian whispered. He could feel tears on his cheeks as he dragged the words out. His throat was closing up with panic, his entire body trying to prepare itself.

“Don’t be such a prude.” The woman stared into his eyes and he froze. He knew those eyes.

“Opal?”

The figure seemed to shiver for a moment and then it was Opal above him. Blood and black ichor dribbled from the crown that was secured into her scalp. Her eyes were empty, something missing from behind them.

“Did you forget me?”

“He forgets everyone.” The voice from behind him said. Dorian felt bile rise in his throat as he recognised it. “Don’t you, brother?”

Dorian woke with a scream spilling out of his throat. He barely had time to lean over the side of the bed as his entire body shuddered. He could feel Cyrus’ hands on him, trapping him.

“Dorian?” A cautious voice came from behind. Dorian didn’t look, gaze stuck on the floor. He could feel his body shaking but that seemed insignificant somehow. A warm hand landed on his shoulder and Dorian leant into it. “You okay?”

“No.” Dorian rasped out. “Really not.”

“We can get back to the group today. It’ll be okay.”

“I saw Opal.” Dorian whispered. He could feel his wet cheeks but he ignored it. “I saw- I- Cyrus was there.”

“It was just a dream. It’s not real.”

“They hurt me.” Dorian whispered. It sounded childish, even to his ears.

“I’m here.” Orym paused before he pulled Dorian into him. He took a deep breath and held the man tightly. “We’re here. We’re safe.”

“They were hurting me. And it was Cyrus. And it was…” Dorian trailed off as he leant his head against Orym’s chest. He heard the familiar thumping under his ear. Each pulse resonated with him, Orym’s steady lungs balanced him as the shades of nightmare slowly faded.

“I’m here.” Orym whispered.

Dorian didn’t know how long had passed before he sat up and wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“Don’t apologise for nightmares. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

A cough came from the doorway and Dorian whipped around. Caleb stood in the doorway with a blank expression on his face.

“Ah- I’m sorry Mr Widogast. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It is fine. It is nearly morning anyway. And I have had enough rest. Now come, I think it is time for breakfast.”

Dorian shrugged his clothes and armour back on. He shouldered his pack and looked back at Orym.

“Dorian…” Orym trailed off. He couldn’t think of what he was meant to say next. In the end he turned away and followed after Caleb.

Despite the sun barely being in the sky there was a wonderful banquet on the dinner table. Orym and Dorian had dove in with Caleb joining in. Over the next hour other members of the house woke and sat down with them.

Orym had known the Mighty Nein were a loud bunch but watching them over breakfast was a whole new experience. Veth and Jester had started a game of throwing donuts onto Kingsley’s horns while Kingsley tried to end the game. Beau and Fjord were talking loudly about a new plan of attack, some mix of magic mostly to get Beau close enough to punch Ludinus in the face. Caduceus and Yasha were in a quiet conversation over a cup of tea. Orym heard vague words about divinity and champions but it was difficult to hear anything over the rest.

Caleb was the only silent one. His breakfast was only lightly touched and he spent most of the time staring a hole into the table.

Suddenly Caleb snapped his head up.

“Orym, may I have a word? In private?”

Orym frowned and glanced at Dorian. He shrugged and Orym sighed. He had to trust these people.

“Don’t take all my food.” Orym said as he left the room. They walked into a room and Caleb locked the door behind them. Orym tensed at that and his hand went to his sword.

“Ah, I do not mean to hurt you. This is simply a private conversation and some of my friends have very good ears.”

Orym glared but slowly lowered his hand. Caleb offered him a clipped smile and sank down onto one of the chairs.

“So what can I help you with, Mr Widogast?”

“Please, Caleb.”

“Caleb.” Orym sat on a chair and tried to relax. Or at least look relaxed. By Caleb’s expression it was going terribly. “How can I help?”

“You are… hm. I think… I…” Caleb trailed off and stared down at the carpet. Orym shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know Caleb that well but the man wasn’t meeting his eyes. “I have a story. I think it is relevant.”

“Relevant?”

“I have a friend.” Caleb started, his voice slow. “He is called Bren. When he was younger, he was put under the control of a terrible man. He did terrible things and called them great. It took the man destroying Bren entirely for Bren to begin to escape.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I think you need to hear this story. The man… he was a bad man in many ways. An evil man. He killed without a second thought. He lied as easily as he breathed. And… he sometimes liked the power other actions would give him. Bren was his favourite student and the victim of many… advances.”

“How old was Bren?”

“He hasn’t told any of his friends when it started. In those situations, far from home as a child with little to no comfort or control, it can be difficult to tell. But advances certainly happened when he was too young.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Bren… he grew up. He realised his actions had been awful and he realised the man was evil. Eventually he learned that his actions were the man’s, not his own. That the burdens he carried were not his own. Now he lives in a comfortable house with his husband. And his friends visit frequently. But at night he remembers the man. He remembers everything.”

Orym played with the vines on Seedling. He had a feeling he knew where this story was going. After a long moment of silence, Caleb continued.

“Bren did not heal until he told his friends. Until he admitted the truth so they could convince him themselves.”

“How did you know? That I…” Orym whispered. Was it that obvious? Was he still just a victim?

“Call it intuition. I know the signs from Bren.”

“My friends saw it happen. That was why it happened. To hurt us all. I was just a tool.”

“Schiesse.” Caleb murmured. Orym shrugged and looked away. It felt strange admitting it to a stranger but something tight had eased in his throat. He hadn’t told anyone, had barely mentioned it since it happened.

“What- did Bren heal? Did he fix himself?”

“Nein, that would be impossible. He was broken. He is still broken, from many many things. But when he wakes in the middle of the night his husband is there. His friends are there. And they do not think less of him. And most importantly, Bren has forgiven himself.”

“He was a child. He wasn’t to blame.”

“He was raped. That is what makes him immune to blame. Anything else just makes the act more heinous.”

Orym looked away but nodded slowly.

“Bren was too young to want it. I’m not.”

“You want me to believe you wanted it? Orym, I am far from a stupid man. You are a warrior, correct?”

“Yeah. I like to think so.”

“Have you ever retreated? Decided a fight couldn’t be won?”

“Every soldier has.”

“You did that. I do not need to know the details but it sounds like you could not run. You could not fight. So you chose to survive. There is no shame there. No matter what you did.”

“You- you really believe that?”

“With all my being.”

“I understand what you’re saying.” Orym murmured. Caleb smiled at that.

“I do not know you, Orym of the Air Ashari but you seem to have friends desperate to support you. Let them. It takes a strong man to admit his weakness.”

“Did Bren ever… did he ever wonder if the world would be better without him?” Orym was almost surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. The thought had lurked in the back of his mind but it had never been put into words. “I’m meant to be a shield for my friends. To protect them. And I hurt them so badly.”

“Bren did. In a way he did remove himself from the world for close to a decade. But you are not a shield, Orym. You are a man. The world would be worse off without you.”

“Thank you, Mr Widogast. I… I need to think.”

Caleb gave a sad smile before he stood. He put a hand on Orym’s shoulder, carefully telegraphing his move. He squeezed it once and released.

Orym nodded and stood. He felt exhausted, as if he’d run a marathon. His limbs ached but his chest felt lighter.

Caleb reached for the key but paused. He pushed open the door and glanced around the room. When he didn’t find whatever he was looking for he just smiled.

“You are a hero, Orym. Do not let anyone convince you different. Now, shall we return to your friend?”

Chapter Text

Dorian and Orym were sat in the bedroom in a comfortable silence. They were both feeling better after a night of sleep but eight hours couldn’t fix everything. Dorian leant against the wall, idly plucking at his lute.

“Dorian? Are you with Orym? Are you okay?”

Imogen’s voice appeared in Dorian’s head and he jumped, pinging the wrong note. Orym looked up, hand going for Seedling.

“Orym and I are okay. We’re staying with the Mighty Nein. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Is that Imogen?” Orym asked as he shifted onto the bed next to Dorian. Dorian nodded with a soft smile.

“We’re all safe and together. At Zephyr. Can you meet us?”

“We’ll be there within the hour.” Dorian let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. He looked up to Orym and nodded. “Zephyr.”

“Let’s find Mr Widogast.” Orym gathered his pack and straightened the blankets on the bed. Dorian raised an eyebrow and Orym shrugged. “They spent a lot on us. We can at least make it look pretty.”

Dorian nodded and they made their way back downstairs. Beau was sat on the sofa, immersed in a thick tome. She glanced up as they approached.

“Miss Lionett-”

“Don’t call me that.” Beau snapped. “It’s Beau.” Orym hesitated before he nodded.

“I’m sorry. Do you know where Mr Widogast is? We were hoping we could borrow him.”

“You found your friends?” Beau sat up and closed the book.

“We know where they are. We’re very ready to get back to them.”

“I can imagine. Come on. Caleb’s doing nerd shit.” Beau stood in a single fluid motion and began to stride through the house. She led them down a flight of stairs until they came out into a small laboratory. Caleb and Veth were muttering to each other as sparks flew around. Beau pounded on the door. “Hey, fuckers. We’ve got guests.”

“Shiesse.” Caleb murmured as some liquid spilled across the table. Orym could see the table begin to flower. “Beauregard, a pleasure as always.”

Beau shrugged and leant against the doorway. Caleb turned away from the table and smiled at Orym and Dorian. Orym could read people pretty well and he was surprised to see the smile was genuine, as if Caleb was glad to see them.

“We know where our friends are.” Dorian said, trying to keep his eyes off the moss growing out of the table. “Zephyr. Are you uh- are you aware of it?”

“Ja. I can bring you there if you like. I believe we have a conversation with the Tempest.” Caleb glanced at Beau who shrugged and nodded.

“We definitely need some answers. And she can probably answer them.”

“It is sorted then. Veth, do you want to come?”

“What? No, no. I can finish up here.” Veth didn’t turn around to look at Orym or Dorian. Orym could read a line of tension in her back that confused him. She almost looked guilty.

“Well, no time like the present. Do you have everything you need?” Caleb looked between the two of them. They nodded and Caleb smiled. “Time to reunite you.”

Orym was knocked off his feet as Fearne slammed into him and lifted him into her arms. Orym relaxed in her grasp and let out a soft sigh. Somehow her arms had become home, a sanctuary Orym could return to no matter what.

“Hey there, Feanie.”

Fearne pulled back and stared Orym over, looking for any injury.

“Where did you go? We met up but we couldn’t find you! And then we had to teleport away!”

“We hid out for a bit. And then Mr Widogast saved us.”

“Mighty kind to do that.” Imogen said. “Your friend was… helpful as well.”

“Jester can be somewhat overwhelming.” Caleb smiled as he saw the rest of Bell’s Hells approach. “Well, I must say goodbye. Stay safe, Orym.”

“You too. Stay safe… Bren.”

Beau glanced over at the name and there was a look of shock on Caleb’s face for a moment. Then it smoother out and he nodded.

“Come, Beauregard! We have people to talk to.” With that the two turned and left. Orym watched them go for a moment but Bell’s Hells quickly took his attention.

“What happened to your face?” Chetney asked, staring up at Dorian. Dorian touched his face and was almost surprised at the jagged cut across it.

“Ah. I was not fast enough to dodge it. I’m sure it’s all fine.”

“It looks nasty.” Braius stepped up and took Dorian’s chin in his hands. Dorian blushed a deep purple as Braius carefully traced the cut. “Here.” Braius cupped Dorian’s cheek and magic pulsed into the injury. The cut faded some more, a thick scar left in its place.

“Th-thank you. Uh- you can let go now.”

Braius stepped back and Dorian adjusted his shirt as the blush faded away. Orym nudged his leg and smiled up at him. He got a warm smile in return.

“The Voice wanted to talk to you, Orym. Are you up to that?”

“Just me? Not the rest of you?”

“She asked for you especially.” Laudna said. “And wouldn’t tell us why. We’re so interested! But Imogen couldn’t even get her thoughts.”

“Not that I tried! I just… wondered.”

“Well let’s go.”

Orym led the group through the city of Zephyr. Many people slowed at the sight of them. Maybe because of the group’s uniqueness or maybe because they recognised Orym.

They reached the chief’s house and paused.

“Just me?” Orym asked. Imogen nodded.

“She had something she wanted to tell you.”

“Well… be back in a moment.” With that, Orym knocked on the door. After a moment it opened and the Voice of the Tempest stepped out.

“Orym. I was worried when your friends returned without you.”

“I had to take a small detour but we’re back now.”

Keyleth glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the group.

“Come in. Join me for a drink.”

“A drink? It’s morning.”

“We have things to talk about. Your friends should go back to their business. This conversation is a private one.” Keyleth stared at Imogen who looked away, flushing.

“Yes, I’m sure we can find something to do. Thank you.” Dorian smiled as he spoke. “And Orym…”

“See you in a bit.”

Dorian nodded and began to herd the group away. They were reluctant to move and kept glancing back at Orym but eventually Dorian dragged them away.

“Come sit with me.” Keyleth swept into her study and sat down on a chair. Orym sat across from her and waited. He’d served her for several years and he could see the tension in her.

“Has something happened? Is someone hurt?”

“Not… exactly.” Keyleth pulled a wine bottle close and took a large swig from the bottle. Orym blinked in surprise. He’d never seen her have that reaction to anything. “We caught a group of Ludinus’ men. And they began to say things.”

Orym felt his heart sink.

“Voice-”

“Please Orym, call me Keyleth.”

“… Keyleth, we can’t trust what the enemy says.”

“They say you weren’t entirely truthful when you talked about your kidnapping. That a lot of other things happened.”

Orym sat back and stared at Keyleth for a moment. He’d spent years beside her but she had always been his boss. There had been a separation. That seemed to be gone.

“Can I have a drink?” Orym asked quietly. Keyleth offered him the bottle and he took a long gulp. He set it down and stared down at his hands. “I need to know. I need to know exactly what they said.”

“They said you were raped.” Orym flinched at the word. “And… a lot of unflattering things.”

“Will this be a problem?”

“A problem?”

“Our mission isn’t done. I don’t want to interfere with that. I don’t want any new… reputation to get in the way.”

“Oh Orym, what have we done to you.” Keyleth reached forwards and touched Orym’s arm. “You don’t have a new reputation. Some people are aware of this now but it doesn’t change how people see you. No, what I was worried about… do you feel confident in continuing this mission?”

“Of course I do. I’m not going to abandon my friends!”

“And I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I’m also pretty sure that I wouldn’t be able to convince them to do that. You’ve been in my service for many years, Orym and I know you struggle prioritising yourself. Will…” Keyleth swallowed thickly and looked away. Orym could see tears in her eyes that she furiously blinked back. “Will and Derrig helped you, but I’m worried your friends don’t see it yet.”

“Thank you but I don’t need help.”

Keyleth pursed her lips but didn’t push it.

“Do you want a say in what happens to the prisoners?”

“Is there a half orc man and an elf woman?”

“No half orc.”

“Then there’s no point.” Orym blinked back tears and averted her gaze. “Just means the rumours have spread.”

“You and your friends could pursue them. I have plenty of skills to help.”

“We don’t really have time, do we? For just a bit of revenge.”

“We do if it helps you. Orym, you are extremely dear to me. I will burn these people alive if you ask me to.”

“The half orc was Mar. The elf was Iz. I… if you find them… please tell me?”

“I’ll make sure they can’t hurt anyone ever again.” Keyleth growled, an almost animalistic fury in her eyes.

Orym smiled weakly and lifted the bottle in a silent agreement. The burn didn’t help but the soft presence across from him did.

Chapter Text

“Were you in my head?”

Imogen’s head snapped up at Orym’s words. She hesitated and he took the moment to sit down next to her.

“When do you mean?” Imogen shifted towards Orym so their sides pressed together.

“With the kidnap. The attack.”

“Oh. I’m never far from your mind. I wasn’t… I didn’t feel anything but I heard it. Everything you were thinking.”

“I guess I was quite loud.” Orym stared at the campfire and tried to think of how to phrase the next sentence. “I’m glad you weren’t in my head. I- I wouldn’t want that for you.”

“I didn’t want it for you.”

“I think my memory is… weak. Or… or I’m confused or something. Did I want it?”

“Oh, Orym. No. Never. The only times you were happy was when you saw us.” Imogen reached for Orym’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ve never felt emotions like that but I know you didn’t want it. I know… no.”

“And them? Were they enjoying it?”

Imogen hesitated before she replied.

“Yes. I went into the bitch’s mind for a moment. She… she wanted… she wanted to break us, Orym. Wanted us to self destruct because… Gods, Orym, it was like looking at the hells.”

“If I had said no would she have stopped?”

“Why are you asking these questions, Orym? Does it matter?”

“It matters to me. I just… I need to know.”

“Yes. She would have stopped. You were… dealing with it too well. She wanted someone to break. She wanted Laudna next. They- huh.” Imogen blinked back tears and let out a shaking breath. “She wanted to break us, Orym. Leave us permanently changed.”

“Are we?”

Silence followed Orym’s words as Imogen stared at the fire in front of them. The group mumbled and turned in their sleep, a familiar background.

“I won’t let them break us.” Imogen’s voice didn’t tremble as she spoke. The smell of ozone leaked into the air as some of Imogen’s tattoos lit up. “I saw that bitches’ mind. I won’t let that destroy us.”

“Thanks.” Orym whispered. He took Imogen’s hand and squeezed it gently. “That… that really helps.”

“What did the Voice really talk about?” Fearne asked quietly. Orym looked at her in surprise. The campfire flickered behind them with Bell’s Hells fast asleep.

“Fearne, I told you that days ago.”

“You lied to us days ago.” Fearne corrected. “While you were drunk.”

“They told other people what they did to me.”

For a long moment the campfire was the only noise in the clearing. Orym didn’t look at Fearne, didn’t dare.

“Do you want me to kill them?”

“Why does everyone offer that?” Orym asked, voice thick with emotion. He swiped at his eyes and hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m fine, Fearne.”

“Please don’t lie to me.” Fearne whispered. “I… I know you’re not fine. And that’s okay. I want to be here anyway.”

Orym chewed on his lip and stared into the darkness. He could see a few animals moving through the underbrush. An owl hooted in the trees above him, a long soft note that carried in the quiet.

“I’m not okay.” Orym admitted in a wisper. “I don’t think I ever will be.”

“You-”

“Don’t just tell me I will. Because that doesn’t help. I want to be okay now. And I know I should be glad. I should be happy I’m still alive but I’m just… I’m not okay.”

“That’s understandable. And we’re all here for you. We can’t fix it but we want to help.”

Orym leant against Fearne’s shoulder and sighed. She was soft and warm, a familiar comfort in the cold night.

“When you look at me I know you’re remembering. Remembering me begging them.”

“They made you do it, Orym. They made you hurt.”

“It… it’s stupid but I feel like I betrayed Will. He was meant to be my only.”

“That’s just silly, Orym. He wouldn’t count that.”

“What if I do?”

“Then you’re being ridiculous and we need to talk more often.”

“I think… I think they hurt me Fearne. Hurt something that isn’t fixing itself. I’m not fixing myself.”

“What can I do?”

“Can you help me? Promise it won’t happen again?”

“I’ll destroy. anyone who looks at you wrong apart. Nana would rip apart the Fae realm for you. But… I don’t think you need that. I think you need us. To remember that you’re safe here.” Fearne tugged Orym onto her lap and hugged him. Orym relaxed into her touch. “You’re safe.”

“Safe with my family.”