milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Björn was always born to walk a different path than his brothers. He has more of you and Lagertha in him. And he had Athelstan with him as he grew."

"In a way, for a time, he was like a third parent to them, him and -- Gyda," Ragnar says. "I still miss her, even if I know she is doing well, and has a new life in the future."

"Ganymede is a good man. He'll give her all I know you wish you could. She will have four parents."

"She does," Ragnar says. "And good for her! Also, goats."

Goats are important as well to build your character!

Sinric does his best to eat plenty. After all he'll need the energy but he only sips at the mead, wanting to keep a clear head. "What else has happened since we parted?"

"Not enough," Ragnar says, shrugging. "Ships take time."

"Once it begins, I'm sure it will all happened faster then you expect."

He finishes off his stew and leans back, nursing a glass of tea. "I found one of my brothers in Constantine's city. Or more I should say he found me."

"How did that happen?"

"Luka was the youngest of us. And protected by the love of Anthousa, our master's only daughter. Leo loved his half sister no less that a daughter of his own flesh and doted on her. Luka was always Anthousa's special playmate." He shrugs. "Leo would have done nothing to being her sadness so Luka was safe, even as the others scattered."

"The princess has renounced worldly things and become a nun but she took care to see to it Luka has a living."

He smiles sadly at the memories. "He found me praying at our Master's tomb."

"I'm glad at least one of them lived," Ragnar says. "What is his living now?"

"The Princess left him a small villa. Enough to keep him in comfort, if not in luxury. He does well enough." He rests his head on Ragnar's shoulder. "I'm sure others lived. I trust that Nobelissimos Niketas got them safely away. All but Probus." He reaches under his shirt and toys with a gold coin on a chain.

Ragnar reaches out to touch Sinric's hair, once quite as golden as the coin, and now the more varied blond of a traveller touched by the sun.

"I've seen those," he says. "Coins of Miklagard."

And here and there a little greyness that gives away how rough life has been with him at times.

"A solidus. My solidus. The one with which I was bought." he toys with it, twisting the chain to make the coin spin and catch the light. "It has travelled since then. As have I. But it would seem our paths were meant to cross again."

"How did you find it?"

Edited 2017-12-22 12:30 (UTC)

"It was paid to me, for a night's playing at the wedding of a Frankish merchant's daughter. Once my life, body and soul what worth this. And now; an evening of my time. Even if the pay was over generous."

"As soon as I touched it, I knew. I felt it warm as if it had just come from Cyril's hand."

"And now, you have your own life's worth in your hand, and carry it with you," Ragnar nods.

"Just so. I have earned back my buying. I am my own, as much as I can be. It is... reassuring."

"Freedom," Ragnar says, "sometimes does lie in coin, as much as in the blade."

"You know me. I have no use or gift for a blade. Perhaps it is that my freedom was bought on a song."

He sighs and kisses Ragnar's cheek. "Dawn is coming. We should find warm furs and boots. It's deep in snow out there. And I may have to ask you to wait a while, while I'm in the tree."

"We should," Ragnar says. "And of course I'll keep watch over you. We'll bring something warm to drink."

Sinric will need it when he comes from the tree.

The bar offers them thick fur cloaks and good comfortable boots. As well as a pack with a couple of full thermos and a fire-making kit.

Sinric dresses swiftly, resolved and ready. He reaches out for Ragnar's hand, squeezing softly.

Ragnar squeezes back, covered in fur and boots and carrying the rest of the stuff.

Sinric smiles and leads Ragnar outside.

The moon has long set and the sky hasn't quite started to lighten but the stars are out. And the tree, some distance off seems to have its own eerie radiance.

Sinric steps lightly and sure over the snow and onto the path that leads to the tree.

Beside them, there are rustlings in the undergrowth, keeping pace but Sinric pays it no mind.

Ragnar walks beside him, tall and wide and powerful. He keeps his eyes on Sinric and pays the rustling things no heed. He did not, however, take off the sword he is carrying as a matter of course.

It doesn't take long to reach the base of the tree. Its limbs are bare and stark this time of year, almost skeletal. Sinric finds a patch of clear ground to set down their things, shedding the heavy furs and boots and beginning to strip naked.

All but the coin which sits warm against his chest.