thewidewideworld | (no subject)

Sinric shakes his head, tears streaming. "Not that. I didn't know I would see so much. Not the thread they wanted but the whole tapestry."

He looks up them with painfully dark eyes. "I sat at the Weaver's foot. I saw the whole of creation from beginning to end."

"You won't remember it", Athelstan says uncertainly. "You couldn't, and keep your mind."

"Just enough to give you an edge on the rest of the world."

He shakes his head, trembling in pain and fear. "I can still feel it, still see it behind my eyes. I can see all your sons, Ragnar. All their futures. I can see how you changed the lives you touched, Athelstan."

He rubs at his eyes, feeling them burn and starting to panic again.

"But those are small parts, by comparison." He looks at Sinric. "Do you need something to help you sleep?"

"We are not that small," Ragnar says. "The gods want us as their tools, and made us so we'd fit the purpose."

"Athelstan." Sinric looks up at him, his eyes so dark. "I wish I could show you. Both of you. You are more important that you can ever know. History turned on the moment you met. On the moment I sent Ragnar for you. And will turn again and again with you."

He shudders, pawing his eyes again. "I can't show you. Not yet. But one day I will and you will understand how your lives shaped the world."

"I meant in comparison to the whole of history", he says, but shrugs his acceptance. "You'll hurt your eyes, stop that."

Ragnar takes Simric's hands. "I believe you," he says. "But the smith doesn't care if the hammer is happy, and that is what we are. Tools of the gods"

U happy ones, at the moment. Ragnar would sacrifice all his importance for peace and quiet and healing for Athelstan.

Sinric shakes his head, clinging to Ragnar's hand to keep from rubbing his eyes again.

He wants to argue. That the history of the world is shaped by people. That man have more power than the gods to shape the tapestry. All that he has seen and known.

But it hurts too much, burning him inside.

"Do you need something to help you sleep?" Athelstan asks again.

"Whatever that may be, name it, and it's yours," Ragnar seconds, still holding Sinric's hands.

He looks to Athelstan and nods. "Please? I'm so tired but I fear I may need something to force to me rest."

He bites his look, looking from one to the other. "Will you stay with me tonight? I know I ask a difficult thing but... I need you, both of you. My thread is bound to yours, you keep me from getting lost." He touches his tattoo. "This is how I came here, not the door. Because I could feel you were here."

"If it will be to help you rest", and the other part goes unspoken, because talking is hard, "then I'll be back soon with Bar's recommendation for you."

"We'll be there," Ragnar promises.

"Thank you, Athelstan." He touches Athelstan's sleeve again, just strong enough to share a sense of open space and joy at simple work.

Athelstan smiles faintly.

"May I feel that again one day."

"Do you want to stay in the bath a little while longer, or would you like me to help you out?" Ragnar offers.

"You will." Sinric assures, having drawn the feeling from Athelstan's future.

He looks to Ragnar. "Will you helps me wash my hair? It's grown rather filthy in my time in the cave."

Athelstan nods and slips out of the room, heading downstairs to get the sleep aids.

"Of course I can," Ragnar says. "Lean back, and I will hold you."

Sinric trusts his all too slight weight to Ragnar. As he trusts his heart and soul.

"I wish I could show him. Show him properly."

Ragnar nods sadly. "Show him how important he is," he agrees. "And how" --- "loved."

Sinric nods and let's himself float, letting the bath soak the filthy out of his hair and off his skin. The water will be a particularly gross colour by the time they're done.

"It will get better for him. I promise. It will get better for both of you." It will get far, far worse too but those threads are tangled and Sinric shies away from pulling on them too much.

Besides, it makes his eyes itch.

Ragnar washes Sinric's hair, his limbs, the touch of the flannel as Michael caress as a practicality.

He would do anything to see Athelstan happy again. To love him again. No, he would give anything just to see him happy, no matter what he himself feels. He would sacrifice anything. Anything but his children.