Night two

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric woke at dawn, as he had most of his life. He sat and watched the sun rise over Ribe. From the beach, he looked back at the little trade port as the sun crested the carved figureheads on the rooftops.

Hung-over and feeling more than a little sick, he felt... happier in his own way. A night of tears and a morning of introspection had helped.

He had said more to Ragnar last night, more than he should have. But Ragnar’s trust in the gods, in oracles and seers would cover that. It would be many years before Ragnar found the bar and years more before Ragnar would find him in the bar.

For Ragnar, it would be a beginning but for Sinric it was an end.

Just as it had been with Constantine, just as it had been it Yan. And Egrit, and Olaf, and Saga, and all his other lovers.

It was time to move on.

Tonight he would give Ragnar the water compass. Tonight he would sing his last songs for Ribe and in the morning sail with the first tide, or slip away and walk until his feet brought him to another place. His task in life was complete. What was left - belonged to him.

***

That night the tavern is a riot. Heavy drinking and boisterous singing. Knowing this will be his last night in this place, his last night as the person he has been since Ragnar foretold his future all those years ago, Sinric is determined to go out in style.

A Viking believes he lives while his reputation is remembered so Sinric plans to leave everyone here with memories enough for a lifetime.

He is standing on the table as Ragnar comes in, leading the perfect sing-along song for this sort of night. A drinking song that’s lewd, playful and makes everyone want to join in. The music is infectious, making even the most taciturn smile or tap their feet.

He’s in his element, the centre of a swirling cacophony of upraised voices and joy. But if anyone is watching closely, they'll see that for all the horn in his hand and his playful silliness, Sinric isn't drinking. Every time someone fills his cup, he manages to palm it off to someone else.

Comments

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar kisses him again, with deep feeling.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric breaks the kids and curled against Ragnar's chest, contented just to be held as the last of the high still warms him to the core.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I am glad you still have this," Ragnar says, softly.

[thewidewideworld]

"It is a rare pleasure for me. But always a joyous one." His fingers draw soft spirals over Ragnar's chest. "Few are as bold or as giving as you."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Are they afraid, or selfish?" Ragnar asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Both perhaps." Sinric shrugs. "And sometimes that is for the best. It is no small thing to open myself to someone like that."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Better stay calm inside while they melt with the heat of pleasure," Ragnar agrees.

[thewidewideworld]

"The soul of a poet." Sinric laughs, "Just so." And there are few he feels safe to melt with.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"It wasn't all that poetic," Ragnar says. "Just summarising your clever thinking."

[thewidewideworld]

"As I am, I walk a careful line between worlds. Something that means bring careful who I trust and who I let know too much about myself. Including my passions, lest they threaten the pride of some men."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Some men are weird that way," Ragnar agrees. "Especially if they want to be powerful. I really think if you are a man, you know it deep in here, and needn't strut like a prize cock."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs "Just so. Those who know themselves need no proving. Nor are threatened so easily."

"I have known powerful men who had to beat and hurt those lesser to make themselves feel powerful. And I have known powerful men he knew their power came from their duty to protect and care for those with less."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"The first kind," Ragnar says, "will be remembered as tyrants, no matter what they pay the skalds to sing; only the second kind will be remembered well by their people themselves."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans against Ragnar, his head resting on Ragnar's shoulder. He draws shapes on Ragnar's broad chest with the tips of his fingers. "Just so. And the latter leave their songs in the hearts of those who loved them."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Thoes are the tales that survive, and echo all the way to Valhalla," Ragnar muses, pleasantly drowsy under the touch.

[thewidewideworld]

"And ring the vaults of heaven with the songs of the august dead." Sinric sighs, pulling the furs around them both.

It is a wonderful luxury to curl sleepily in Ragnar's arms once more.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Tales mothers tell their children at bedtime," Ragnar asks, his arms settling around Sinric.

He feels just like he should be here, just so.

[thewidewideworld]

"Just so." Sinric whispers a soft note of thanks to any god listening for this stolen season of happiness and lets himself drift sleepily in Ragnar's arms.

Dawn will come too soon but for now, there is peace.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Peace only interrupted, soon, by Ragnar's soft snoring.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric lay awake for some time, listening to Ragnar's breathing and feeling the best of that powerful heart under the palm of his hand.

Oh, beloved Ragnar. You have no idea how I miss you, will miss you. Go to him, find him and love him.

He finally falls asleep, sleeping deeper than he has since he was a boy.

He wakes before dawn out of long ingrained habit and lingers, feeling the warmth of Ragnar's body against him.

He should get up and pack, be ready to leave but it means leaving the circle of Ragnar's arms. He strokes the long, lean body beside him, burning the shape of thighs and abs and pecs into his memory.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar wakes up after a while of that, and yawns mightily.

"Hmph," he says. "Sinric?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Forgive me, I shouldn't have woken you." He lifts his hand slowly from Ragnar's stomach and moves to rise. "Dawn is coming and I should be getting ready to leave."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"So should I," Ragnar says, stretching, but not making any move to get up. "I thank you again for everything you have taught and given me, and I hope you liked what little I had to give in turn."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric answers him with a long, loving and deeply passionate kiss. "Go west, sweet Ragnar. The gods will go with you. As will my heart." He add in Latin, sounding like a blessing.

He forces himself up and packs swiftly, feeling the call of the sun. He must not let himself weaken and linger. He has to go and not look back.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar gets up, and gets dressed.

"Good-bye, lovely Sinric," he says. "I hope we meet again when I have done all that, so I can share my spoils with you."