Sinric the Wanderer

"Oh, the machine with which you can see the little bits everything is made of?" Ragnar says. "You mentioned that! I wonder if one can--"

And then, Sinric gets to a sensitive bit, and Ragnar yelps with surprise and accidentally releases the trapped foot.

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"Ha." Byzantine body slave: 1. Mighty Viking: 0. "Poor Ragnar, did I hurt you? Shall I kiss it better?" Be careful, Ragnar. That grin is dangerous.

"I once heard the world is made of tiny, tiny things out together to make all things; like a massive mosaic."

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"Precisely!" Athelstan says with the light of being allowed to talk about science in his eyes. "I've heard the study of such things is very advanced in the east."

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"Not hurt as such," Ragnar says. He can't admit to being ticklish there, can he? "You can later."

He smiles at Sinric, liking the way he's getting bolder, less scared, more confident.

It was right to tell him about the future.

"Yes, I heard our bodies are made from tiny things called cells, like where the Irish monks live."

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He has a future, as exactly what he dreams of being. And his future will affect theirs so their protecting is self interest and gratitude rather than some other motive. How can Sinric be anything but happy.

"Promise?" He teases to Ragnar, settling his feet back in Ragnar's lap.

"The palace library has scrolls by many of the wise men of the Greeks and Romans. And the works of more resent men. The Emperor kindly let me read from the works of Paul of Aegina. His understanding of medicine was without flaw."

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"I'd love to read those", Athelstan says wistfully. "The library here has everything, but I keep getting distracted."

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"Perhaps we should take a few weeks off from our lives," Ragnar says, "not that we'd be missed, as no time passes anyway, and just stay here, read, learn, talk to people, copy maps, drink bourbon and spoil each other and Sinric."

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"There's a library here? Any anyone way use it?" Sinric is suddenly bright and alert. "Oh, I would love that. And music! The priest in the garden give me so much music to listen to."

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"Such a library, Sinric", Athelstan says with a smile just thinking of it. "Nothing like it exists in our world, and it's open to all."

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"I've never been there," Ragnar says. "When I was here last, I couldn't read yet. And I'm still not a scholar, or somebody who'd read for fun. But I'd like to see maps!"

Pause.

"You could show us tomorrow, Athelstan."

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"Maps would be very helpful. And histories too." His mind is already racing ahead. "And languages."

"Please, Athelstan! That would be so kind."

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Athelstan grins at them.

"I'll show you gladly. With maps for Ragnar and all manner of books for us."

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"And when I get bored and you don't," Ragnar says, "I'll go and raid the kitchen for us."

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Sinric slides out of his seat and into Athelstan's, setting in his lap and kissing him soundly. If there's one thing that can get him very excited, it's the idea of having free reign in a beautiful library.

Hold that thought, Ragnar. You get kisses next.

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Athelstan wraps his arms around Sinric and kisses him back.

He has words for Ragnar about taking care with food around the books, but they can wait.

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Ragnar drinks his mead and watches them, with a wide, happy grin.

They are very lovely to look at, and while he may have an argument with Athelstan to finish before they can have proper make-up sex, he is sure that some touching, kissing and pleasure will be forthcoming.

But even so, just looking at them is a pleasure in and of itself.

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Sinric nuzzles Athelstan's neck and kisses the turn of his throat. "I hope you will let me show my appreciation later?" He whispers softly. He kisses Athelstan again before getting up to settle in Ragnar's lap and doing the same, kissing him deeply and confidently.

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"Oh yes", Athelstan murmurs, watching them. "Whatever you want to do."

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Ragnar holds him in his arms, warm and safe, and kisses him back; he likes Sinric's newfound confidence.

"You seem to know what you want," he murmurs.

He leans in and kisses Sinric slowly, with open mouth and teasing tongue, softly and wetly, clearly making it a bit of a show for Athelstan.

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Sinric returns the kiss in kind, letting little moans and sighs escape his throat.

He has a future. It's like seeing land after months lost at sea. He knows, not where he's going so much as that he has somewhere to go to. Ribe, via the world. The lost little bird trapped his cage now has a mission and sun to fly by. It makes all the difference to him.

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It's like watching a flower open in all its beauty.

Athelstan gets up, eventually, and comes to crouch at their side so he can touch them both.

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