Vikings oneshots (athelstan x ragnar)

13

"Your hands. Do they hurt?"

TheNextSillyThing

Summary:

He noticed how Athelstan was hiding his hands, on the day they returned to Kattegat.

Story:

He noticed how Athelstan was hiding his hands, on the day they returned to Kattegat.
Athelstan's face lit up in sight of their city. He stood on deck, looking out over the fjord and smiled at him so lovingly, that Ragnar couldn't help but smile back.

He walked up behind him, leaned over and said softly:
"Welcome Home!"

Athelstan turned his head. He was still smiling.

Ragnar noticed how he was hiding his hands in his jacket, but he said nothing about it.

Now the thing was, that he hadn't asked.
He hadn't asked Athelstan, why he hardly slept and why he was more easily startled than he had learned to expect from him.
He hadn’t asked him why he was carrying himself less proudly, why his shoulders were sagging a tiny bit more than usual. He hadn’t asked him.

But he noticed.

And it made him so overwhelmingly angry.
He was glad, that his family had taken Athelstan in again, like they would any other lost friend.

And it made him happy to see the way Athelstan beamed, when they gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder or clicked their mugs against Athelstans and engaged him in conversation. His friend relaxed in the face of it all.

Ragnar did notice however, how Athelstan always had his hands slipped under his shirt, when he was sitting by the fire with the others.

And he also noticed how, when Athelstan was getting tired, and he could no longer follow the conversations, he still did not go to his little hut to sleep, but stayed.

Then, Ragnar always sat down with him and asked him to tell stories, about everything he knew. And Ragnar admired how the flames were reflecting in Athelstan's eyes, how he presented every story with the same effort, how his hands moved at the dramatic parts, how he lowered and raised his voice to the beats of the story.

It made Ragnar feel so loved.

Because no matter how often he asked for a story, Athelstan always tried to tell it exactly as thrillingly as he did the very first time.

Then Ragnar would wait until Athelstan couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, so he would walk up to him, wrap an arm around his shoulders and bring him back home, to bed.

--

One evening, Athelstan, lying on his bed, took Ragnar's hand.

Ragnar turned, seeing only the pale moonlight reflecting in Athelstan's eyes. They were all black and hazy white.

Athelstan squeezed his fingers.

"Thank you, my friend," he said, barely audible, and then let go of him, his hand falling back onto the blanket.

"Always”, Ragnar replied softly. And he was surprised by how gentle his voice sounded.

--

It was so, that he did not know exactly what had happened in England.