(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Just when Athelstan was starting to relax, to think perhaps nothing horrific was going to happen now... Ragnar took him on a supply trip to Kattegat.

It's a tough decision which was harder to take, the sight of his brothers' suspended corpses, or hearing his own words used to persuade the Earl to authorise a worse raid on England.

When he thought Ragnar was about to cut his throat for refusing to move, for one moment Athelstan welcomed it.

He comes in trembling, his precious Gospel in his hands, and heads for the half-built church to pray.

"Lord, forgive me and help me to see Your will. Why am I preserved in my weakness, when they were not?"

Comments

[lt_blade]

Sonya was nearly asleep in one of the arm chairs by the fire when she saw Athelstan step inside. She nearly said hello until she saw that he was shaking, saw the look in his face and how he made a b-line for a half built church.

Fighting back sleep, she stood and followed him inside. Half built as it was, it still felt strange being inside a church-she hadn't entered one since Lance and the others were killed.

She catches what he's saying, but she's not sure if it's prayer or pleading-just that he's in need of support.

[athelstanthescribe]

He doesn't notice her presence at first, eyes closed as he keeps speaking with desperation in his voice.

"Tell me what you want of me, Lord. Show me what I must do."

[lt_blade]

She waited until he was over-least, when she thought he was over-before going to kneel besides him, making sure she stepped a little louder. Startling him looked to be a bad idea.

"Hey...mind telling me what happened?"

[athelstanthescribe]

His head snaps around all the same, but he relaxes a little when he sees who it is.

"There will be another raid to England, with more men. And the last of my brothers are dead and rotting in Kattegat town square."

[lt_blade]

Now his prayers made sense: prayers..they were more like pleadings. After what he'd told her he'd witnessed, Sonya wondered if the way he spoke to her was just him being numb. She certainly knew the feeling well enough.

Sonya was rarely the sort to hug a person, but that didn't stop her from wrapping her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug.

[athelstanthescribe]

He's tense in her arms, unable to relax fully even with a friend, and his voice is dull when he speaks next.

"I so hoped they lived, even in slavery, but they must have resisted."

[lt_blade]

She held him in spite of how tense he was. The way he sounded was recognizable as how she sounded when half her team was killed.

She was less focused on why they were killed, then just the fact that the image of him seeing them would haunt him for awhile. "Would you be able to give them a proper burial?"

That was important. Even in death, no one should just be left like that.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I hope to. If I ask Ragnar Lothbrok to see it done, I believe he will - unless he sees some reason not to."

[lt_blade]

"He shouldn't see a reason not too." She rested her chin on his shoulder, noting his smell: wood and salt water.

"A year ago, my team and I were on an assigment. There was an ambush, one of the informants was a double agent. Half the team was killed, one of them was my fiance-I found his body dumped in an alleyway, his throat cut so deep I thought his head would come off."

It was a year ago, yet the image was still burned into her dreams-what would it be like for him, someone who was gentle by nature.

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier kneels beside him, taking his friend's hands in his own and praying with him. "God protect my beloved brother. Keep him safe from the storm and guide his hand."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Give me a sign, Lord", he pleads. "Show me what I must do."

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier keeps silent. It isn't his place to speak for God, only to support his friend.

[athelstanthescribe]

And Athelstan falls silent and uncertain, caught between hope and despair - and grief.

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier leans in to embrace his friend. "You are not alone."

[athelstanthescribe]

"They killed them", he whispers. "Brother Osric, Brother Alfred... killed them and left them hanging in the town square."

[equal_of_any_man]

Olivier pulls Athelstan tighter into his arms, rocking him gently. He whispers a prayer for the dead, praying God will give them peace.

[athelstanthescribe]

"And they will go again to England." He hates himself, right now, for what he's done. "Ragnar Lothbrok has convinced his earl, so the expedition will be bigger."

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman walks along the path towards the unfinished church, but stops when he sees Brother Athelstan praying.

He will want his privacy.

[athelstanthescribe]

Perhaps the magic of the bar chooses not to translate what he's saying, or perhaps Father Harman is too far away to make out the words, but if he hears nothing else, surely he'll catch the beseeching tone in Athelstan's voice.

"Please, Lord. Fill me, as you did before, guide me to what is right."

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman still waits, not wanting to disturb the monk; he sits on Javert's felled tree, and ponders.

[athelstanthescribe]

He continues in that vein for a few minutes, growing ever more desperate as no clear answer comes, and finally falls silent, still there on his knees.

[witchfinder_general]

Only now does Father Harman approach, taking care to make an audible sound as he is walking.

[athelstanthescribe]

His head snaps up, and then he relaxes a little at the familiar face.

"Father."

[witchfinder_general]

"I don't want to disturb you, Brother Athelstan," Father Harman says, stopping where he stands.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I've finished", he says quietly. "But I thank you."