athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

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Athelstan has barely said a word to Ragnar since they watched the sacrifices. He's been walking with Gyda, listening affectionately to her chatter and sometimes responding, but not to Ragnar.

That is, until Lagertha takes the children off somewhere and leaves the two of them alone.

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"No." He reaches out and pulls Ragnar back, out of earshot of the others. "Tell me."

"If you don't remember, then it wasn't important after all," Ragnar says, shrugging. "You've changed very much since you first came here."

"You've helped me to change", he says simply. "By taking away the fear."

"No," Ragnar says. "You learned to not be afraid all of your own. I simply failed to live up to the scary reputation we Vikings have with other people."

Pause.

"Talking of which -- your funny Frankish merchant was very much not afraid or startled at anything. If anything, he seemed to think that Vikings drinking a lot were enormous fun. If that was a Christian, then I'm a horse."

"Not all Christians are monks", Athelstan points out.

"But Christians usually are a bit overly wary about the nicer things in life, and rather scared of the inevitable dangers," Ragnar says. "He, not so much."

"Perhaps he has a pagan streak in him as well", Athelstan says with a grin. "I couldn't tell you, we only met that day."

"I hope he had fun as he wanted, and got to let that streak hang out," Ragnar says. "It's good when not everybody thinks we're monsters."

"Well, most people away from here only see you when you raid", he says more quietly. "It took living among you to teach me that you aren't."

"It's probably not really fun for some poor monks to see us coming with our ships to take their treasure," Ragnar allows.

"If you'd only taken our treasure..."

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. Ragnar wasn't the one slaughtering everyone in sight.

"In the end, it meant that you're here with us," Ragnar says. "I'm not going to pretend to regret that bit."

"And I'm content here with you. But those men were my brothers, and I still grieve for them."

"Of course you do," Ragnar says. "But there is nothing we can do about it any more, is there? It happened, the gods have seen it, time went on."

"The gods have seen it and so did I." He shrugs. "My God says I must forgive, but not that I must forget."

He won't forget what Floki did, he means.

"By not forgetting, you honour your brothers," Ragnar says.

"And I am the only one now living who knew them all, so I must."

"Doesn't your god know them?" Ragnar muses.

"Of course, and they are with Him. But He is not of this world."

"They will be forgotten in this world anyway as soon as nobody is alive who knew them," Ragnar says. "Unless one of them did something that will make him remembered in the skalds' tales, or in those books your people write."

"Or I write of them myself. Perhaps I will, one day."

"I should bring you writing materials from my next raid, then," Ragnar says, in the tone of voice of somebody making a list of things to get at market.

"Would you?" he asks hopefully. "And books, if you can fit them in."

"What should the books be about?" Ragnar asks, grinning. "Must they be religious, or would you take love poetry?"

Athelstan gives him a sidelong look.

"Bring what you can find. I won't be particular."