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Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

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thewidewideworld

"Rest too, if you desire. Time will not pass for Niketas while we are here." Sinric points out, opening for door and stepping through into Milliways bright embrace.

"Music will please him, if we explain the source. But if you wished, I could sing. He will not see my eyes so there is no fear that he might know I am weaving the song to ease his pain."

He looks up at Hannibal, quietly thoughtful. "What do you think of him?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"I think that there is greatness in the shadows still waiting for him, and giving him back at least a little bit of his eyesight may be a way for me to contribute to history," Hannibal says. "I can see what attracts you to him, even with Ragnar in your future."

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"Your mark will be felt, even a thousand years before your birth." Sinric smiles.

"Ragnar is still more then a decade away. No matter what else happen, my path will always lead to him." He smiles sadly. "For I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep."

He lowers his eyes and his voice. "In Niketas' company, I feel the urge to kneel. Not in deference, not entirely, but out of the desire to serve. To be of service. To protect and comfort and find fulfillment in that."

He shrugs. "That probably sound terribly weak. Like a frightened bird flying back to its cage."

From:

cook_the_rude

"No," Hannibal says. "It sounds like one that embraces the gentle power of submission. If that submission was given to a deity or spiritual ideal, people would talk of strong faith, piety, sainthood. It's that submission which is at the core of the strongest path of self-healing humans have developed, to my knowledge."

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Sinric leans up into his toes to kiss Hannibal's cheek. "You see me." It is the greatest praise and thanks Sinric can give. "Better than I see myself."

He gives Hannibal's arm a squeeze. "Gather what tools you need, do what research you require. I will be here when you are ready to return."

From:

cook_the_rude

It takes Hannibal a little under five hours before he turns up again, carrying another bag while drinking tea from a mug.

"I'm ready," he announces.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric is sitting by the fire, dozing on the couch. He has not been idle and his golden hair which had been nearly braided now tumbles about his face. He has his own bag of holding resting at his feet.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal finishes his tea and puts the mug down. "I think I know what I am going to do," he says, "depending on what I find underneath that burned eyelid. Surgery is where one really learns to make antler-shaped plans."

From:

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"I have faith in you." Sinric stretches and yawns, gathering up his things and strengthening his tunic. "Anything you can do, even just to ease his pain would be very kind."

He walks with Hannibal, opening the door onto a room within the monastery compound. The room is small and cool, with wide shuttered windows facing east that will affording a lovely view once the sun is up.

Through it seems disused, the room has been freshly swept and scrubbed. Two wide benches have been stacked, one on top of the other, and lashed together. Padded out with a straw mattress, blankets and furs, it will rise Niketas up to the right level for Hannibal to work comfortably on his eyes.

Two large braziers have been lit and damped down the take the chill from the room. One of them has a copper pot of clean water resting beside it.

Another bench set close at hand, scrubbed and spread with clean Bar linen.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal looks around. "You have been very industrious yourself," he says. "Thank you for that -- it will save us valuable time while I work."

He opens his bag and begins to lay out his instruments on the bench.

From:

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Sinric gives a bow, looking quite tired despite his nap on the couch. He has been busy, especially seeing he needed to do it alone and quietly so they'd be private.

He opens the shutters, dawn breaking over the mountain and lighting up the room. "I'll go fetch Niketas."

From:

cook_the_rude

"Yes," Hannibal says, pouring disinfectant over his hands. "Everything is ready."

From:

thewidewideworld

A few minutes later, Sinric returns with Niketas leaning heavily on his arm. The former princes is pale, drawn with trepidation. The smell of the antiseptic makes his nose wrinkle.

"I will be at your side." Sinric promises, "Every moment, I will be with you."

"Sweet little bird," Niketas jokes. "I feel as if I should be the one protecting you, not the other way around." He nods to Hannibal. "Good morning, Doctor. Forgive me. Hope makes for odd dreams and I find myself less sure this morning than I was in the dark of night."

From:

cook_the_rude

"Every procedure will be anticipated with some trepidation by the one undergoing it," Hannibal says, soothingly. "I will use substances from my time to switch off the pain, but I will need you conscious during much of this, for the sake of your reaction to light, and their change as I work. I could give you something to calm you as well, unless you prefer to walk through your own fear and doubt, maybe guided by Sinric's hand."

From:

thewidewideworld

Niketas considers as Sinric guides him onto the bench. "A better man, a stronger man, would bear his own fear and trust in God." he keeps hold of Sinric's hand. "As my father would have done."

Sinric strokes Niketas' dark curls back from his face and kisses his brow. "You remember your father as an icon. As still and strong as a saint. He was often in doubt and sometimes in fear. That was what we little birds were for. What he could say to us, confide in us, gave him strength to present to the world as imperious as the face in his coins. We were there to give him the freedom to be weak when he needed to be. As I shall be here for you."

Sinric pulls up a chair at Niketas' side, down near his thighs so he is out of Hannibal's way but can still hold Niketas' hand.

He looks up at Hannibal, eyes tinged with gold. And nods. "Shall we have music?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"We shall," Hannibal says, touching a small device he set out.

The beginning of Bach's first Brandenburg Concerto quietly floats through the small room.

"I will now prick you with needles around the eyes," he then announces to Niketas while picking up a syringe, "which are hollow like a serpent's fangs and through which a medicine will flow into your nerves to take away all pain while I work. If you had stitches on wounds, it will feel a little like that."

From:

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Niketas gasps at the swell of music, so strange and full. Surely this little room can't contain so much.

But Sinric hums, singing a soft sweet counterpoint, adding his voice to the tapestry of music. "Float into it." Sinric whispers as he nods for Hannibal to begin, "Let the music carry you. I have your hand, I will keep you from being washed away."

"The serpent's tooth." Niketas echoes, already starting to drift a little under the warmth of Sinric's touch.

For all he sings, his hands holding Niketas', Sinric watches Hannibal, alert for any help he can be, or sign of trouble.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal works very, very carefully, first injecting a little of the anaesthetic into the places where he needs to go deeper, then doing a second round, sinking the needles deeply and emptying the syringe's load judiciously into Niketas' constantly hurting eyes, lids and eye-sockets.

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Niketas stays still, relaxing under the spell of Sinric's song. "I don't remember when last I was without pain. It seems like so long ago. And yet, I am the lucky one."

From:

cook_the_rude

"You are alive," Hannibal says, "and so much is still ahead of you."

He takes up a scalpel and pincers.

"I am going to try and open the burned, scarred-shut lid now."

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Sinric looks away, unsure of his own fortitude when it comes to surgery. He will help if Hannibal needs more hands. He will make himself then. But until needed-

"Your brothers?" Sinric asks softly.

"Christopher died only a few hours of being blinded. His skin was so cold and all the will went out of him. Anthimos took with fever and died later."

"Nikephoros and Eudokimos?" Sinric's eyes flair as he calms a surge of panic in Niketas at the sound of peeling flesh.

Beneath the twisted and puckered lid, Niketas' eye is cloudy. The burn is not so bad. Damaging his sight yes but not so severely.

"I think I see light." Niketas gasps. The distorted tear duct leave his eye dry and pained, almost as it chaffed.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal picks up a little vial and puts in a few drops, just to alleviate the dryness. "Can you open and close it on your own?"

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Niketas tries, muscles long disused fluttering weakly.

His eye seems to bleed as lubricant washed dirt and dried blood from the minute fissures and cracks in the surface of his eye.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal adds more drops, with each fluttering movement of the scarred, disused eyelids, dabbing ashes and dried blood at the edges of the eye.

"I will try and reopen your tear duct," he says, "but if that doesn't work, I'll give you a recipe for eye drops your adlatus of the moment can easily make for you, but you'll need those all your life."

From:

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Niketas has to remember not to nod. "I'm very grateful. Anything that prevents me from weeping blood would be appreciated. It tends to disquieten people."

Sinric keeps holding his hand, singing softly as he watches Hannibal word from the corner of his eye. Watching for any signal of need.