thewidewideworld | (no subject)

Sinric nods feebly, unable to do much more than that. He feels so weak, so drained.

Ragnar helps him up from the bath and wraps him in a soft towel, and his arms.

Sinric tries to help rather than being as limp as a doll. But he mostly fails. He hates this. Hate being weak, hates having been used again, hate being a burden to Ragnar and Athelstan. Hates that for all he's seen and felt and he still can't make it better.

Soft tears dampen his cheek as Ragnar holds him.

The door opens in the other room, and Athelstan comes back in.

"Let's get you to the bed," Ragnar says to Sinric. "Get you something to eat, and then the medicine that helps you sleep. Athelstan is back."

He picks up Sinric, wrapped in his towel.

Sinric cuddles up, like a swaddled babe in the towel and Ragnar's arms. "I'm sorry." He whispers, reaching out to Athelstan as they join him, with his mind more that his hand.

Athelstan blinks, sincerely confused.

"What for?"

Ragnar carries Sinric to the bed, and puts him down gently.

"For being a burden on you again." He curls in the bed, digging his fingers into the soft furs. "I had hoped the magic would make me stronger, less of a victim. But here I am, too weak to rise."

"Only for now", Athelstan assures him. "For such a short time, it will hardly count as a burden at all."

"What you see as weakness will bri g you new strength," Rag ar says. "But I can understand how much it irks you to,still be dependent."

"I brought myself here because I needed you. Both of you. I just wish I was more to you than a burden."

"But you are", Athelstan says simply.

"You are," Ragnar repeats, "and we love you and want you with us. Apart from everything about fate and the gods."

Sinric sobs and clings. This is why he came to them, why he was able to reache across reality to find them. Because they love him and the honest truth of that washes away part of his doubt along with his tears.

"I love you. Both of you." More than there are words for.

"As we do you."

He can say that. That's safe.

"You can lean on us," Ragnar says. "Because we do."

He doesn't know how much that is true for him and Athelstan any more, because of the Stockholm Syndrome Jim had been talking about.

Sinric feels the love from both of them, but also the conflict, the hurt. He burrows down, fighting to keep himself from dissolving into tears again.

"Did... did the Bar give you something, to help me sleep?" He asks Athelstan, his voice shaky. He wants to cry, wants to show them how wrong they both are for doubting each other's love. For doubting that being together is the right path.

For making him doubt he should have brought them together.

"Yes." He produces a sachet. "She said it would be safe for use this once. I think we need hot water."

"I will get some," Ragnar says, getting up. At least it's something to do.

Sinric curls tighter in the furs, hating that he had made them feel so pained. All he wanted was to be held, to feel the warmth of safety and home. Now he realises how naive that was of him.

He rubs at his eyes again, trying not to wish it better lest he see how badly worst it could get.

Athelstan waits for Ragnar to come back with the hot water, then pours the powder into it.

Ragnar brought a spoon along, and stirs for Sinric before offering him the cup.

Sinric drinks deeply and swiftly, nor minding that it burns his tongue. He welcomes oblivion from the maelstrom within him and the hurt he's already caused.

Athelstan watches him, then moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

He did say he'd stay.