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"If you fall in there", Athelstan objects, "you'll crack your head open."

"I can help bathe you," Ragnar says, smoothly pushing open the bathroom door with his shoulder.

Sinric lets go of the sheet he has wrapped around him. Beneath it are the bandages, covering the abrasions and cuts of the bonds that held him - some cord thin and biting, some thick as Ragnar's wrists and little more than rope burn against his very tender skin.

Very pale skin at that. It doesn't look like Sinric has seen sunlight in some time. And he's filthy.

He rubs at his face, at the flaking paint over his cheek. "Part of the ritual. If I get it off, maybe it will ease."

"Who was doing this ritual?" Athelstan wants to know. "And did you volunteer?"

Ragnar starts running the bath and wets a flannel for Sinric.

Edited 2016-11-21 13:06 (UTC)

Sinric half leans, half perches on the sink, trying not to look in the mirror as he cleans his face in slow, careful wipes. "I met a group of Vǫlva. The offered to teach me the ways of the Seiðr."

He shakes his head. "No, they knew I would come. And they knew they would teach me. One of them, she can feel the threads. Not well, but enough to know I would come. And that I would be stronger than they."

His hands shake as he wipes away the blue-black tree painted into his skin.

Athelstan nods slowly.

"What did they want in return?"

"Let me," Ragnar says, taking another flannel to wipe Sinric's face.

"Did the want your power?"

Sinric lifts his face, letting his hands fall limp at his side. "They wanted revenge, on the king who drove them out of their own lands."

He closes his eyes again, looking brittle. "They believed I would see the path, the way they might return triumphant."

"And did you see any such way?" Athelstan asks gently.

Ragnar gently washes Sinric's face, saying nothing.

"There was never a way back for them." Sinric intones sadly, eyes closed and one hand in Ragnar's shoulder to steady himself. "They has used their magics in ways that angered their gods and broke a vital thread of the tapestry. For that, they would never be allowed to go back."

He nods quietly.

"I hope they won't take it out on you, when you tell them so."

"If there are problems, I can help scare them off," Ragnar offers. "So you can get through back to our world."

Where he is needed.

"Bath now?"

"They won't hurt me." He nods and takes Ragnar's arm. "I think they fear me a little. And now I have seen the offence they caused, the life they took, I will leave them."

He needs help getting into the bath, hissing softly as the water swirls around the cuts at his ankles.

"Was that why their king cast them out?"

He hovers, in case Sinric looks like falling.

"Not all rulers are corrupt and cunning," Ragnar says. "Sometimes, they have a point."

He helps Sinric to lower himself into the bath, holding him to make sure he doesn't slip.

"They did not feel he gave them respect as he should. He didn't give them the best meat or the best seat at his table. They laid a curse on him. It killed the child his queen was carrying. A child meant for great things."

Athelstan winces.

"Not only pain for the king and queen, then, but as you say, great harm done to the pattern."

"A wise king if he knew that, and didn't just banish them for personal reasons," Ragnar nods.

"I don't know." He closes his eyes, feeling the hot water wash away the grime. "I didn't look too closely at his motives. Only his grief. It was so deep, so dark."

He shakes his head. "They didn't tell me. They wanted me to believe they were persecuted."

"They had to know you would never agree to help them, knowing the truth."

"They had to know you were strong enough to find the truth," Ragnar adds.

He shakes his head, eyes wide and wet. "They expected I would see the thread that would lead them home. I didn't know. How could I?" He chokes a sob, shaking.

"But now that you do, there is only one possible course. Which is why they lied."