athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

(no subject)

Athelstan leads Sinric into the suite of rooms, and straight into the bathroom.

"Would you like plain water, or something in it?"

Either way, it's probably going to sting.

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"I'm sorry", Athelstan murmurs. "We should get you something for the pain, when this is done."

The sound of their voices soothes him and he reaches for the solid warmth of Ragnar for support. For all he has suffered, he trusts them utterly and their nearness brings him comfort.

Realising he is wanted and can comfort, Ragnar reaches out to hold Sinric.

"We're with you and will take care of you," he murmurs.

"To the very best of our ability", Athelstan promises in turn.

Tears prick his eyes and half awake now, Sinric turns away to try to hide them in Ragnar's shoulder.

Ragnar pulls him into his arms and slides down onto the bed so Sinric can comfortably cry on his shoulder and pretend he doesn't.

He's stroking the long golden hair, trying not to catch his fingers where it may be tangled, or matted with blood.

Athelstan finishes what he's doing, kicks off his shoes, and joins them on the bed with his arms around Sinric's upper body, where he thinks the injuries are least.

Thanks to The Varangians' women, his hair is clean but a little tangled and in need of a good brush.

Curled between them, he cries himself out again, his pretty face blotchy with bruises and tears.

When the tears finally dry up, he stays curled with them, staying warm and protected. "You must think me very weak."

"No," Ragnar says. "You are strong; something very terrible happened to you, and you are dealing with it. And you're safe with us now."

He tightens his arm around both Sinric and Athelstan, so Sinric will be enveloped in their warmth.

"You lived through it", Athelstan agrees, "and after everything, you're still thinking of your emperor ahead of yourself. That's not weak."

He swallows roughly, his throat still tight. "I can't go back, not till I'm healed."

"You can stay here with us until you are," Ragnar says. "Safe between us, or in your own connecting room if you're fed up with being surrounded by schmoopy Vikings."

"Whichever you like", Athelstan says with a nod. "And if you don't want to let it happen naturally - some of those might scar - there are magic healers."

He gives Ragnar a grateful but weak little squeeze of thanks. "Thank you. I will not get in your way, I promise."

His eyes go a little wide at that. "Magic?"

"You're not in he way," Ragnar says. "And yes, there is true magic here. That we can tell."

"But that's entirely your choice", Athelstan adds quickly.

"I would like to learn more about this magic but, not yet?" He pleads softly, still to shaky to bear the idea of leaving this warmth of protection.

"Not yet," Ragnar says. "Not before you want to. For the moment, you can just stay here between us."

"Not a moment before you're ready", Athelstan promises. "Even if it's days or weeks."

Hours at least. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift back to a safe deep sleep, trusting them utterly.

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