athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

(no subject)

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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"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."

"Well, don't blame me if it's all love poetry, or lists of sheep," Ragnar says. "I can't tell what's in a book."

"Exactly why I won't be particular."

"I could always ask the monks we're raiding," Ragnar says. "I don't think we'd be killing all of them again. They might be happy to not be killed in exchange for books about holy people, or farming, or whatever you might want."

"You could", he agrees. "Whatever books they have to hand, then. And please try not to kill any of them, they won't fight back."

"I know that now," Ragnar says, sounding very serious. Apologetic, even, if Ragnar ever sounded apologetic.

It's appreciated, as far as it goes. Athelstan nods.

"I suppose you'd never met men before who wouldn't."

"No," Ragnar says. "We hadn't. Men fight; that is what they do. Always."

"Even your holy men?"

"They don't have to," Ragnar says, "because we keep them safe. But they know how to, even if they never do so any more."

He nods. "Perhaps some of our older men knew how, if they'd come late to the life. But most didn't... as I told you once, no one in England would have thought of attacking us."

"But they didn't think of protecting you, either."