(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan can see Ragnar everywhere he looks in this room, and it tears at his heart at the same time as it comforts him.

He tries not to think of it, though, turning to take Sinric's hand again as they step inside.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"There is no slavery in England as the Romans had it, though not all men are free. In the North, yes, slaves exist and can be freed and win high honour. As, through the fortune of meeting Ragnar, I have."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles tightly, rubbing his thumb over Athelstan's hand. "Fortunate in many ways. To have found love as well as honour."

[athelstanthescribe]

"And real freedom." He strokes Sinric's cheek, seeing the strain in that smile. "The lord of my childhood was a good man, but I went from being the son of a serf to the strict life of the brotherhood. And then Ragnar came."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric turns his head ever so slightly to kiss Athelstan's fingers. "As you have given me. In more ways than one."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I'm glad I could pass on that gift", he says sincerely. "As Ragnar didn't need it to be given back."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles, not entirely forced. "It is a gift that doesn't diminish in the giving but increases."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Indeed." He says with a nod. "And perhaps in time, you'll find some other poor soul just waiting for you to be gifted their own kind of freedom."

[thewidewideworld]

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it is my fate simply to send Ragnar to you." He bites his lip. "That would be enough."

[athelstanthescribe]

"You were the hand on the trigger", he says with a nod. "You made - all of this possible."

[thewidewideworld]

"It could be said I am to blame also, for your suffering." Sinric muses sadly.

[athelstanthescribe]

"No", Athelstan counters. "You sent Ragnar to me. He chose to bring the men with him who killed my brothers."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric frowns, unconvinced. He leans into Athelstan's touch and sings softly. because somehow singing was easier than words. He takes Athelstan's hand and massages it softly, working out the knots of many hours transcribing.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan wraps his free arm closely around Sinric without pulling his hand away,

"You're cold."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and snuggles in, still massaging Athelstan's hand. "I am a little cold. It is cooler here than at home." And Sinric is lean and slight, little padding on him to keep him warm.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Come here." He pulls the blankets up over them.

[thewidewideworld]

He rolls over and cuddles closer, tucking his back against Athelstan's chest. He takes Athelstan's other hand and starts massaging. It feels so good to be cocooned in warmth, to be in the arms of someone he cares deeply for. He sings again, softly and sweetly.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Yes", Athelstan whispers. "Nothing has soothed me like your song, these last weeks."

Since he's been kept apart from Ragnar.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles, honestly this time but briefly. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of warmth and closeness as he shifts from one gentle song to another. He weaves in the Northumbrian lullaby, adding verses he has written himself in Athelstan's birth tongue as he taught himself.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan lets his eyes drift closed.

"You've added to it."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and shifts to press a kiss to Athelstan's brow. The words of the song are simple but soothing, calling to the dawn and the hopes of a new day, letting sleep renew the world. His Northumbrian is imperfect but the feeling is there.

On 30 September 2015 at 08:45, athelstanthescribe - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

[athelstanthescribe]

It's good enough for understanding, and correcting him is the last thing on Athelstan's mind.

"I'd like to sleep", he says, already halfway there. "Just sleep. Here, with you."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and settles down next to him, without breaking his song. Sleep would do them both good. It has been days since he had more than a few hours. He strokes Athelstan's hair, singing them both down to rest.

[athelstanthescribe]

And Athelstan does sleep, when he's not working, but it's usually fitful and disturbed.

He curls into Sinric's arms.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sings until his own voice falters as he slips into sleep. His own nightmares are kept at bay by the warmth of trusted company.

[athelstanthescribe]

This once, Athelstan might just have a peaceful night.