(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]

"I might have learned to be happy as a farmer", he says with a small shrug, moving close against Sinric. "A little plot of land, a wife and children... but I would never have seen the world."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric ducks his head, hiding his pretty eyes behind the fall of gold. "I don't believe in God, Athelstan. I've tried but I can't. But I do believe in fate, and this place, meeting you as affirmed that belief."

"Which means this," he takes Athelstan's hand and pressed it over his heart, "Was meant to be. Just as this," he presses Athelstan's hand gently back to his own heart, "Was meant for Ragnar. I don't believe you would have been happy as a farmer."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan nods, fingers moving gently on Sinric's chest.

"I do believe everything that's happened in my life was leading me towards Ragnar - and by extension, you."

[thewidewideworld]

"And mine to you." Sinric smiles, and then goes quiet for a moment. "May I ask why you worried about your fever ravings?"

[athelstanthescribe]

He glances away.

"I don't like not knowing what I've said."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric cups his face and guides Athelstan's eyes back to his. "You said nothing to me you need fear. You called for Ragnar and then for me, then for your mother and sister. There is no shame not weakness in that."

[athelstanthescribe]

That gets a slight smile.

"It's a relief to know that. I suppose in my sickness, I must have come to miss them again."

[thewidewideworld]

"I envy you those happy memories." Sinric sighs, still smile if a little sadly. "I had family before I was sold, I have no memory of them."

[athelstanthescribe]

"But you have happy memories from after you were sold. The birds have been your family, no?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh yes." He hums, "Of sneakng into the kitchen to steal treats and being paddled by the cook. Of learning to dance for my Lord and his easy laugh. Of the first time Probus and I found a path to the roof. I have been very lucky."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan nods.

"And you probably remember those more clearly than I do mine. It's - what I do remember is more a collection, fitted together, than anything. As if it might all have happened on the same day."

[thewidewideworld]

"That is true. Life in the palace is all I have ever known. Or at least all I remember knowing. And like your monks and books, it has been a good fit for me."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan nods.

"And so will the traveller's life, I think."

[thewidewideworld]

"I hope so. As being a northman has suited you." He sighs, stroking Athelstan's hair. His own eyes are growing heavy but he won't sleep till he knows Athelstan is settled and ready to sleep.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan notices, studies him for a moment, and curls closer against him.

"I think I might be able to sleep again."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric starts to sing to him again, the soft Northumbrian lullaby as he strokes Athelstan's hair.

But its not long before he falters, falling asleep himself, the song on his lips.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan holds him, calm and unmoving, but he doesn't sleep.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sleeps fairly soundly, sniffling and shifting occasionally but hugging close to the safe, loving source of warmth next to him like a cat.

Asleep, he looks very young and very small, the mask melting away to show the fragile softness beneath.

[athelstanthescribe]

It's easy to forget how young he really is, sometimes, when he's awake and wearing the courtesan's mask.

Athelstan strokes his hair and face, very lightly, not wanting to wake him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric makes a soft, happy sound at being stroked and curls closer, content and trusting.

Something that only happens two places - here in their shared rooms and in his Emperor's arms.

[athelstanthescribe]

The last thing Athelstan wants to do is disturb this, either by another nightmare or by moving.

He curls protectively around Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric murmurs something softly and rests his head on Athelstan's chest, letting the beat of his heart sooth him deeping into sleep.

[athelstanthescribe]

In turn, Athelstan starts to relax. Sleep will catch him sooner or later, he knows, but for the moment he's content.