(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric leads Athelstan back to their room, stopping at the bar to have a quiet word with the bar before they go. When they arrive in their rooms, the bed has been spread with a large, warm bear-fur and draped with silk. There are candles on the table, at bedside, on the windowsill, bathing the room in soft, warm light.

Sinric smiles and leads Athelstan towards the bed. "This night is for you, beloved Athelstan. We'll go only as far as you're ready for."

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

The break in Athelstan's voice is heartbreaking and Sinric's eyes cloud with tears for his friend, even as he kisses him.

"Do you remember how you held me when I can from the palace after Leo and his men were done with me? Do you remember how you washed me and kisses away my tears." He entwined their fingers, pressing Athelstan's hands gently back to the soft furs of the bed.

"Do you remember the first time we shared passion? How I shook and trembled when you brought me to completion for the first time in my life?"

"These hands have known blood, yes but they have known beauty and kindness and care. With these hands you saved me from despair that might have destroyed me. You have shown me pleasures that made my soul soar and see myself anew. Never forget that."

[athelstanthescribe]

He can't hold back a hiccuping sob at Sinric's words and caresses.

"Then I have done some good in my life, beyond creating beauty."

[thewidewideworld]

"You saved me." Sinric answers, his heart open utterly. "In so many ways. Without you, I would have died on the floor of that room. You have me hope and a reason to survive and when I came once more to your side, you gave me comfort and understanding."

And without Athelstan, Sinric would never have lived to meet Ragnar at that tavern and show him the way to the West.

[athelstanthescribe]

His head is half-buried in the pillow, which is looking suspiciously damp.

"As you and Ragnar will save me now."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans in to kiss away the tears. "Yes." He promises. "Yes."

[athelstanthescribe]

And Athelstan breaks utterly for the first time, stops holding on to the need to show strength and pretend to be all right where Ragnar can see him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric holds him, letting Athelstan cry, letting the tears fall. He understands this; the need to let it all out and feels privileged that Athelstan feels safe enough in his arms to let himself feel it.

He holds Athelstan for as long as he needs, as long as he want to be held.

[athelstanthescribe]

It takes a while, because there's a lot he's been holding inside.

"I'm sorry", he chokes eventually, and it's not clear who he's talking to. "I'm sorry."

[thewidewideworld]

And Sinric, ever patient and gentle, will be there as long as it takes.

"Athelstan, beloved of my heart." Sinric croons softly, stroking his hair. "I'm here. You're safe."

[athelstanthescribe]

"You made... this room..." There are no tears left, but his voice is still uneven. "And all I can do in it is talk and sleep."

[thewidewideworld]

"I made this room safe and warm and peaceful." Sinric answers softly, stroking Athelstan's hair. "It's our sanctuary. To talk, to sleep, to bath, and to hold each other. And to do and be whatever we need for each other." He kisses Athelstan's brow in soft reassurance.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Sinric." He presses his face into Sinric's shoulder. "How good you are."

[thewidewideworld]

"As you are to me." Sinric whispers, kissing the top of Athelstan's head. "But let me wash the oil from your skin before you rest."

He doesn't move away until Athelstan is ready to let him.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is completely drained, his touch weak, and he lets Sinric go.

"All right."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric bounces to the bathroom on swift feet, returning a moment later with a bowl of hot water and several cloths. He sits at Athelstan's side, wiping his legs and flanks down with the hot towels, kissing the clean skin in passing. He has a body slave's practiced hand at this, making Athelstan feel clean and refreshed.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan lies still, just feeling.

"One day", he whispers, "I'll be your lover again as I was. Not this broken man."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans in to press a kiss to Athelstan's cheek. "You are my lover, and my beloved, whether you are ready to share pleasure or not. That doesn't change who we are to each other."

[athelstanthescribe]

He's shivering as Sinric touches him, but it's more complete exhaustion bringing cold with it than anything.

"When I feel hands on me, even yours, even Ragnar's... I don't pull away, because I love and trust you both entirely, but... it's as if I feel theirs again."

Not really conducive to arousal.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric puts out all but the nearesr candels as he puts the clothes away. He leaves his linen dress on as he slides into bed next to Athelstan, pulling the blankets and furs up around them both.

"I understand," he breathes, loud enough only to be heard by them. "I still can't bear to be touch from behind without warning. Or have hands near my throat. They leave... shadows on us, that heal slower than the bruises and scars. But they do heal in time."

[athelstanthescribe]

"I hope so", he murmurs, looking into Sinric's eyes. "With time and care."

[thewidewideworld]

"I am proof of it." He assures softly.

"And you will have all the care I can give you. And all the time the world will allow." He promises, entwining his fingers with Athelstan's.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Will you try to explain to Ragnar, should I ever flinch away from his touch? If I can't explain myself?"

[thewidewideworld]

"If you need me to." Sinric promises. "He understood with me, I'm sure he will understand with you." Even if Sinric had to have words with Ragnar. Harsh words.

[athelstanthescribe]

"He hasn't known me as fragile", Athelstan says quietly. "Even when I was his slave and he had a knife at my neck - to cut the rope around it - he never saw me flinch."

[thewidewideworld]

"Athelstan, look at me." Sirnic's voice has a hard edge to it. An edge that comes from his own history. "You may be fragile, you may be bruised, and you may be battered. But you are not broken. And nor am I. There is no weakness in needing time to heal."

"And if Ragnar doesn't understand that, I will explain it to him."