(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{From here}

Their rooms are as neat as ever but there are signs of Ragnar's presence - horn cups on the mantle, a tunic draped over the back of a chair.

Sinric guides Athelstan to sit on the edge of the bed. "Can I get you some mead? Or something to eat?"

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes, thinking he has the answer to his question.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric drinks deeply and sets the cup down, moving to his own room for a moment.

It's a long, painful moment before he returns, carrying something small wrapped in a scape of silk. He kneel on the edge of the bed and unwraps it. Inside is a small, very sharp damascus steel knife. "I have carried this since the day I returned to the palace. I swore to myself I would die before I let Leo touch me again."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's eyes snap open, fixing on the knife.

"Sinric", is all he says, but there's a wealth of things in it.

[thewidewideworld]

"If it is truly in you to take your life. If there is no other way." He pushed the knife towards Athelstan, swallowing thickly.

[athelstanthescribe]

"At the last", he whispers. "I would pass through every door on the way to the cross praying for it to lead here. But if none did, then before they stripped me..."

[thewidewideworld]

Silent tears trickle down Sinric's cheek, not interrupting Athelstan's words but not touching him, the knife laying between them.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Then I would commit one last sin and make it quick."

The words drop like stones between them.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and rewraps the knife, setting it with Athelstan's things rather than returning it to his own chest.

[athelstanthescribe]

"And may the gods - whichever of them chooses me - receive my soul", he whispers.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric nods and pours himself another cup of mead. He doesn't return to Athelstan's side. Nor can he bring himself to look at his dear friend. There are still tears in his eyes.

[athelstanthescribe]

"It may never happen", he says in a weak attempt at reassurance. "As it never did for you. But the thought of what I fear most..."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric starts to say something but cannot. The words won't come. He perches on the window seat, feet tucked under him as he sips his mead.

Not didn't happen. Hasn't happened. Sinric still carried the knife on his person somewhere, every day he was in the palace. It was only in his chest because he in in the bar. He hasn't moved past the fear himself.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Can you forgive me?" he says in a whisper. "One day?"

[thewidewideworld]

He doesn't answer for a long moment, his eyes lowered to his cup. "There is nothing to forgive. Your life is yours and only you can know what must be done."

[athelstanthescribe]

"But there is." His face is turned away. "I made a promise."

[thewidewideworld]

"And if you must, you must. I of all people cannot tell you otherwise." Tears leak down his cheeks.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Sinric - " His heart is breaking. "I'm taking your knife from you, but I swear not to use it until every other hope is dead."

[thewidewideworld]

"I know." Sinric whispers, eyes still on his cup. "But if that day comes, my heart dies on that blade."

He stands and sets the cup down, his hands shaking. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

[athelstanthescribe]

"No, I'm sorry", Athelstan whispers. "It was selfish of me to say anything."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric automatically opens his mouth to comfort Athelstan, to assure him he isn't being selfish but the words won't come.

"Please, don't leave before I-" he cuts himself off. "I'm sorry, I can't-" He darts towards the door, pulling it closed behind himself.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan slumps on the bed, torn by a thousand feelings with guilt and self-loathing at the top, and can't hold in the despairing tears any longer.

(But he'll still be there when Sinric comes back.)