(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

[athelstanthescribe]

This soft and gentle touch is easy to take, and he can force away the violence of memory.

Running out of words, he leans in to kiss Sinric instead.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sighs warmly, keeping the kiss light. He brushes his fingers very gently over Athelstan's hand, staying away from his wounds.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan does deepen it a little, some far down inconsolable part of him afraid of disappointing Sinric for all the reassurances.

"If I should dream", he murmurs, "don't let me strike you in my thrashing. I've been told I did in the fever, when the palace servants tried to restrain me."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps the kiss light, but enjoys whatever Athelstan wants or needs. Or is willing to share.

"I'll be careful." Sinric promises, stroking back Athelstan's hair. "And if you want me to, I'll sing you back to sleep."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Please." He manages some kind of smile. "You soothe me so well."

[thewidewideworld]

"What suit of song would you like?" He asks softly, settling himself ready to sing.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Do you know any lullabies?"

It's childish, perhaps, but there's only Sinric to hear him.

[thewidewideworld]

"Several." Sinric smiles without judgement. "My Emperor is very fond of them."

He sings a soft, slow melody, weaving and gentle. He strokes Athelstan's hair, cradling Athelstan's head against his chest.

[athelstanthescribe]

Slowly, Athelstan begins to relax into the first stages of sleep.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps singing, weaving the song around them like a net of warmth and safety. He keeps singing until he's sure Athelstan is deep asleep.

[athelstanthescribe]

Eventually, he is, the bear fur soft underneath him and Sinric's arms around him - to comfort, not to trap, and he can still feel the difference.

It lasts a good few hours before the nightmares begin.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric wakes as soon as Athelstan's stirs, feeling the rush of panic clutch his own heart at the sudden alarm. He clears it from his mind with a quick breathing exercise and starts to sing, the same sweet song he calmed Athelstan to sleep with.

[athelstanthescribe]

He hears it in his sleep, an incongruous background to the horrors of his dreams, and it helps lead him slowly back to waking.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric keeps stroking Athelstan's hair, in no fear of flailing fists as he eases his friend to comfort.

[athelstanthescribe]

Thanks in large part to Sinric's singing - and the fact that he isn't trying to hold Athelstan down - there are no flailing fists this time.

Slowly, he relaxes again, and his eyes open.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles to see Athelstan's eyes open. "Beloved Athelstan." He greets softly.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Sinric", he murmurs back. "Your voice was in my dreams."

[thewidewideworld]

"Then I hope they were happy dreams." Sinric smiles, still stroking Athelstan's hair lightly.

[athelstanthescribe]

"It made them happier", is the best he can offer.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric knows how hard it is for Athelstan right now and is doing his best to keep things light and relaxed. "Would you like some water? I find some times it helps me to get up and move around before I let myself go back to sleep. To shake off the shadows."

[athelstanthescribe]

He considers this, and nods.

"For such a short walk, I might not even need my crutch."

[thewidewideworld]

"You will have me to lean on." Sinric helps him ease back the cover and stand. "And for once, being short is helpful."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Not short, my love", he says with determined lightness. "Small but perfectly formed."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric laughs softly. "No, I am short and will always be. The curse of my kind is that I will always been small. But I like my body. Even if I have to ask people to reach things for me some times." He guides Athelstan to the kitchenette, pouring him a glass of water.

[athelstanthescribe]

He walks carefully, putting as little weight as possible on the wounds in his feet.

"We'll be sure to put nothing important on high shelves."