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Ragnar sighs, realising that there is no way he can make Gyda go to bed, even as it is late and everyone else is long asleep around the dying fire. Still, a part of him is touched and grateful for her determination to keep him company, so he smiles at her and reaches out to run his hand through her hair despite the pain — which he hides the best he can. Gyda gives him a most precious smile back, pausing in her retelling of their escape and leaning in slightly where she sits near the bed.
"…You will be better soon, right? We all prayed to the Gods for you," she whispers, hopeful. "Even Athelstan…"
Even Athelstan. Ragnar lets out a small chuckle, glancing at the priest sleeping a few steps away, then looking back at Gyda.
"With such a great nurse, of course I will," he grins and takes her small hand, squeezing lightly.
She beams at him, then returns to her story.
Near the fire, Athelstan shifts, still unable to get to sleep. The events of the day — the sudden fear for Ragnar's life — keep spinning in his mind, and as ashamed as he is of listening, the feeling only aids in keeping him awake.
"It was Athelstan who saved you," Gyda lowers her voice even more, awed. "He jumped in so fast!…"
Athelstan's eyes widen, and he feels blush creep up his cheeks. He merely did what anyone would, did he not? If he could at all hope to drift off to Gyda's story, this part immediately made him alert again. He cannot deny, though, that he is grateful for her acknowledgement. Something in his heart compels him to turn, to see Ragnar's face, but he should not. It is dark anyway. No, he should not.
Ragnar tilts his head, lifting an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good."
The priest never ceases to pleasantly surprise him.
"See? I always liked him," Gyda smiles widely, turning for a second to glance at Athelstan.
"And you were right."
Athelstan can hear the smile in Ragnar's hoarse voice, and the ability to do so is both strange and warmly natural. How glad he is that Ragnar lived. He is what Athelstan's own life seems to revolve around now, and, strangely, he does not want to live differently. He would not turn around. However, the decision is soon made for him.
"Athelstan," Ragnar calls softly, expecting an answer and turning out right.
Athelstan flinches, chills running down his spine, and hopes that it is Ragnar's intuition, a coincidence; that he did not know he was listening the whole time. He gets to his feet, choosing not to address this, merely fulfilling Ragnar's wishes — it feels natural yet again.
"Yes?" he whispers, stepping closer.
Gyda smiles happily at him, and he smiles back.
"Your God would be proud of your bravery… and kindness," Ragnar says with a smirk and a slow blink, his somewhat intrigued blue gaze pinning Athelstan in place. "What does He say?"
Athelstan looks down for a moment, his eyes darting. He has not truly heard the Lord as clearly since he was brought here.
"He teaches us to help each other," he tries at last. "You do not have to thank me."
"In any case… thank you," Ragnar gives him a small smile, his eyes narrowing for a moment.
Athelstan averts his gaze, his cheeks burning. Ragnar sighs, then looks at Gyda.
"Get some sleep," he says gently, emphasising with his eyebrows. "Do not worry, Athelstan will take good care of me. Right?" he glances up at him.
"Uh…" Athelstan stammers, blinking; his name coming from Ragnar always a slight startle. "Yes, of course."
Gyda looks between them and finally obliges, standing up. Ragnar gives her a small wave when she turns to look over her shoulder once more before settling near Lagertha.
He winces at the movement, and Athelstan sees his composure crumble the moment Gyda is gone, his breath painfully laboured and brows furrowed. Still, he looks somewhat relieved. Athelstan finds himself quietly appreciating the trust he seems to place in him.
"How are you?" he whispers, sitting down near the bed.
"It hurts," Ragnar complains hoarsely with a somewhat irritated sigh.
"I know," Athelstan nods sympathetically, hesitating for a brief moment, then puts his hand over Ragnar's. "You— you were brave, earlier today. I cannot imagine going through all that and— I am just glad you are alive," he ventures, even quieter.
Ragnar stares at him for a moment, then chuckles. "I hardly remember it… aside from what Gyda told me."
"Can I help… in any way?" Athelstan asks instead; of course, it probably was not his place to praise Ragnar, but he could not quite help himself.
"Floki must have his mushrooms here somewhere. Bring them to me," Ragnar nods towards the rest of the room.
Athelstan feels his gaze on himself the whole time as he stands up and quietly walks along the wall, checking shelves and the floor until he comes upon a wooden bowl with a few small brown mushrooms in it and returns.
"Here," he whispers, holding it out.
"Thank you," Ragnar smirks and reaches for one. "You should know, I might act a little… strange."
"Well, I— I will be here," Athelstan does not find much else to say, his gaze averted.
"Good."
After a moment Ragnar lets out a relieved sigh, and Athelstan cannot stop himself from smiling lightly as he sees him relax, the pained lines on his face smoothing out.
"Is it better?"
"Yes," Ragnar smiles back, blinking slowly, then shifts closer to the wall. "Lay down with me."
"You should not—" Athelstan starts, but he is cut off, and Ragnar has already moved. "Why?…"
"Please," Ragnar looks up at him, then nods at the space near himself. "It is better than the floor."
Athelstan can hardly refuse him after everything, when he seems so vulnerable. If he can make him feel better, he shall. And a soft bed does indeed sound enticing. So, he lays down carefully on the very edge.
A few minutes pass in silence and Athelstan just starts to think that Ragnar fell asleep when he feels him shift closer. His warmth is reassuring — Athelstan has to admit despite feeling awkward.
"…Can I lay on your chest?" Ragnar asks suddenly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, his voice quiet.
"Wh—" Athelstan stammers, blinking as he turns to face Ragnar.
He meets his bright blue, tired gaze and finds that, again, he does not have the heart to refuse. Besides, he was warned. Here it must not be as strange as he would think after having spent most of his life in the monastery.
"Yes," Athelstan whispers at last, looking at the ceiling.
"Good," Ragnar sounds somewhat amused as he moves to rest his head on Athelstan's chest.
Athelstan freezes for a moment, feeling himself blush. Surely, the embarrassment is to be expected after hardly touching any people at all his whole life — he tries to reason with himself. He wanted to make sure Ragnar is comfortable, and so he will.
"Am I not too heavy?" Ragnar murmurs after a pause.
"No, I— I don't mind," Athelstan whispers quickly.
If anything, Ragnar's warm weight on top of him is unusually grounding, perhaps even pleasantly so. Should it be, though? Another question torments Athelstan as well.
"Why did you not ask Lagertha?"
"I am sure she has had enough of me today," Ragnar says with a shrug, and Athelstan can hear that elusive smirk in his voice. "And I did not want to wake her."
Athelstan stays silent for a while, listening to Ragnar's breath. A thought occurs to him and feels, strangely, right enough to try bringing up.
"Ragnar?" he tries quietly.
A part of him hopes that he is asleep, which would free him from making the decision to voice his sudden urge, but God is seemingly not on his side — has not been for a while. Unless Athelstan is interpreting His will wrong.
"What is it?" Ragnar mumbles against his chest.
"May I… embrace you?" Athelstan's voice comes out strangled, barely a whisper.
Ragnar tenses, but just for a second, probably surprised.
"Yes," he purrs after a brief moment.
Athelstan catches himself wishing he saw Ragnar's face, but he cannot. Mindful of his wounds, he puts his arms around him, hands on his back. Things like that must be more common here than in England, and Ragnar can always assume that Athelstan was just so relieved with him surviving and not be wrong. But he has to admit that this is not all, that something about Ragnar fascinates him — nearly from the very first day, it did, and the feeling keeps growing. His kindness to him, his curiosity, his love for his family, his unfathomable strength and… his eyes.
"I like you," Ragnar murmurs pensively, answering another question that burns in Athelstan's mind. "You are… interesting."
"Um— Thank you," Athelstan lets out an awkward chuckle, looking at the ceiling. "I… I think I like you as well."
"I know that much, Athelstan," Ragnar whispers with a smirk.
Athelstan hopes that no one sees them like this, but deep in his soul he knows that he is not going to try getting away.