(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is sitting outside the hall, working on repairing a net that belongs to one of the old fishermen.

Lagertha doesn't need him just now, and it's something useful to do with his hands while he waits for Ragnar, because surely he'll be back any day now.

Comments

[bigarmy_strangepants]

They arrive quietly and without fanfare, tired men after a long day's journey. Floki is loping along unconcerned as ever, Björn is almost cheerful, and Ragnar is calmly walking between them. Rollo is nowhere to be seen.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan notices Rollo's absence, his brows drawing together, but waits for Floki to peel off towards his own home before he stands.

"Welcome home."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Athelstan!" Ragnar says, giving him a quiet smile while trying to mask the tiredness. "It's good to see you again."

He looks at Athelstan's wrist, as if to see if the arm-ring is there or not.

[athelstanthescribe]

He raises his arm unobtrusively, letting the sleeve slip down a little to show the ring.

"We have a lot to talk about, Earl Ragnar - Bjorn, your mother has been eager to see you."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar acknowledges the ring with a nod; so it was all true, not just a strange dream he had in Gotland.

Bjorn does race on ahead, and the other warriors disperse with a nod or two, glad to make their way to their own homes after the long journey.

Ragnar reaches out and takes Athelstan's wrist, touching the ring that the dead Goth king made for them, in that strange otherworld.

"Yes?"

[athelstanthescribe]

His wrist is still just a little thinner than when Ragnar left, weight he hasn't yet regained after his illness. Enough to be felt under Ragnar's hand.

"Ragnar, while you were gone... something happened."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Something bad," Ragnar says, matter-of-factly. "You look skinny, and a bit haunted."

He's still holding on to the little monk's thin wrist, and the arm ring.

"What is it, Athelstan?"

[athelstanthescribe]

Behind them in the house, Bjorn's voice rings out in a cry of grief.

"There was a sickness." He looks down. "I wish I didn't have to tell you... we lost Gyda."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar's grip on Athelstan's wrist tightens suddenly.

"Lost?"

[athelstanthescribe]

He doesn't flinch even as Ragnar's grip turns painfully tight.

"Walk with me?"

He nods towards the seafront.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes, but you must tell me at once!" Ragnar says, worried. "What happened with Gyda? Why is Björn crying out?"

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan leads him away from the houses, to the empty dock where they can talk in private.

"Gyda is dead, Ragnar", he says simply.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar just stares at him, his eyes very bright in sudden horror.

"Dead!" he says. "What happened? But she was -- why would the gods...?"

Pause.

"We must avenge her, Athelstan!"

[athelstanthescribe]

"No", he says quietly, turning to face Ragnar and taking his hands. "There's nothing you can avenge her on. She took sick, and she died. As I almost did."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar nods, wordlessly, squeezing Athelstan's hands. His grip is very strong, and there is a shiver in it, as if he was subduing several reactions all trying to break out of him at once.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't try to pull away, or complain at the tightness of the grip. He understands, studying Ragnar's face.

"And I hope you'll understand, I've been thinking of what has happened... Ragnar, you must send me away."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"What?" Ragnar says. "Athelstan, no! You're a free man, but I can't do without you!"

He takes a deep breath.

"I know you loved Gyda very much, as if she'd been..."

And he can't go on talking, as he realises he's already speaking of his little lady in the past tense, and this is so wrong, so terribly wrong, his throat closes on the words.

This shouldn't be. It's just wrong, and Athelstan can't leave on top of all that horror...

He pulls the little ex-monk closer and crushes him in a hug that is at once fiercely possessive and bonelessly desperate.

[athelstanthescribe]

"It isn't that", he says, voice aching. "But you don't see what I see. Where I go, death follows. My parents, my sisters and brothers, my brothers on Lindisfarne, and each time I'm left alive and alone. And now Gyda and Thyri and so many of the townsfolk... what if it isn't over?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Athelstan!" Ragnar says, not letting go. "You can't believe that your god has cursed you. But if you want to, we can make any sacrifice for you, to wash off that curse. Our gods are your gods now; they can free you as I have freed you."

He reaches down to touch Athelstan's armring again.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Perhaps He has." His voice is muffled, face buried in Ragnar's tunic. "Perhaps He saw long ago how I would begin to turn away from Him."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"But we are here to protect you now," Ragnar declares. "We, and our gods."

He crushes Athelstan against his chest, his grief for Gyda painfully mingling with the threat of losing Athelstan.

Gyda, who...

If Ragnar is spilling tears, nobody will see it, except the gods and the seagulls.

[athelstanthescribe]

Some of the tears land on Athelstan's head, but he doesn't mention them.

"If you wish it, with what I've told you, I will stay. But don't leave me alone in the world, Ragnar Lothbrok, for there would be nowhere left for me to turn."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar just hugs him for a moment, cradling Athelstan's head against his shoulder. He doesn't trust himself to speak yet.

And Gyda...

He should be with Lagertha. Lagertha lost so much, so fast -- but she is comforting Björn, and he's here with Athelstan.

He can't tell who is comforting whom, only that this is as it should be, and Athelstan can't just leave!

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan leans against him, and if he's weeping too, he knows Ragnar will never tell.

"I'm sorry", he whispers.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar leans his cheek against Athelstan's hair, finding unexpected strength and solace from his presence, here in his arms.

The seagulls aren't telling on either of them, and the gods keep their counsel.