"Knowing such a thing can change how desirable a person is," It had certainly given him doubts about Dodger. More doubts. Part of him knew he was to blame. He'd known Dodger wasn't a good person and he'd tried to overlook it.
He tore through more of the sticker, gritting his teeth.
He hated himself.
Of course, in the oppressive silence, it's almost impossible not to hear Athelstan's mumbling.
"What difference does that make?" He's genuinely asking. Did Athelstan's permission to love anyone he wanted only apply to women?
Athelstan doesn't comment because he doesn't really see how it makes much of a difference and he's too tired to belabor the point.
His hand switches to the crucifix but neither symbols really are providing him much comfort. One is attached to the source of his pain and the other a reminder that his pain is caused by broken vows.
He shook his head at the question and it's hard to find an answer that is honest without revealing more than he is willing to.
"It doesn't matter, Ragnar," he finally says. It's close enough to the truth. He thinks, perhaps, he really understands why Lagertha had to leave. It is hard to love Ragnar, to be with him. It would have been easier to have never kissed him to have been repressed and while denied those moments of thrilling true happiness he could have saved himself this particular burden.
"Athelstan..." He sighed, somewhere between desperate and hopeless.
He leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face. Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way into the living room and sat down on the floor in front of the couch so he could finally look Athelstan in the eye.
His lips parted, but he ended up sighing again and rolling his eyes at himself, at all of this. It was all so frustrating.
"How can I know what you want from me, if you will not tell me," He gave him a pleading look, though it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt being this open and vulnerable. He studied his finger for a moment, the blood caked under his fingersnails, and then looked back up at Athelstan, searching his face.
"You said before... that... you did not care," He went to reach for Athelstan's hand, but stopped himself, instead he started toying with the seam of the couch cushion, "Talk to me. I do not want to lose you and my son in one night... Please..."
Athelstan finds it difficult to look at Ragnar directly but it's just as difficult not to. He remembers the surge of joy when they first kiss and it's now colored by a feeling that somehow he's broken and he doesn't know how he got this way. When did he start wanting so much that he could feel like this? His throat feels tight because Ragnar's face does something to him.
"I won't ask things of you that you cannot give. I know how that turns out for people," Athelstan whispers and he's thinking of Lagertha again. He reaches to take his hand. Somehow it aches to do so.
He forces a smile then. "You can never lose me. I'm always by your side, I'll always follow you. I always choose you. And you only lose your son if you're too big a fool to right things no matter who's at fault or who's childish."
Another frustrated sigh. He raises his hands in a brief shrug before going back to tugging at the seam on the cushion. Slowly, he lets Athelstan take his hand, curling his fingers around the monk's.
"Maybe you should let me judge what I can or cannot give up," He pointed out quietly. He wasn't certain, about anything, but he knew he didn't like seeing Athelstan like this, "You are obviously not happy..."
The smile Athelstan attempts is more than enough proof, though he believes every word Athelstan says.
Athelstan squeezed Ragnar's hand slightly. The smile becomes more genuine if not more melancholy in a way. Perhaps the worst of this will pass on it's own. After all, Athelstan is used to denial, to holding back and not fully experiencing everything he desires. This is really not much different.
"If I told you, I would either always wonder if you'd come to resent me or I would be... I would know that you couldn't," the correct words are hard to find but he does his best. "My happiness is not your responsibility. Some questions are better left unasked and unanswered. Doesn't the seer always warn about too much knowledge?
He didn't return the squeeze, waiting hopefully for an answer, to be given a task that wasn't impossible. Instead, Athelstan was Athelstan.
With a quiet exhale, he eased backward to lay down, closing his eyes for a beat before opening them to stare up at the dark ceiling.
"The knowledge of what your lover expects in your relationship?" He asked with a sigh, at least his tone was light, almost teasing. At this point, he didn't know what to do, "No, Athelstan, the Seer has never warned me of such things."
His happiness was not Ragnar's responsibility... then why did it feel like his unhappiness was his fault?
The word choices stick to Athelstan and he can't help but think that they do not mean the same things to him as they did to Ragnar. He pulls his hand up, kissing the knuckles softly and pressing his hand to his cheek as he studies him.
"Wouldn't it pain you if I asked more of you than you could give?" Athelstan says softly. "Know that my desire for you is never quenched, my l-... my affection immeasurable and my ability to vex you is unceasing and infinite."
He finishes with a slow smile. In a way, he has honestly told Ragnar what he wants, just not in terms that force a decision or that require the acknowledgment that a question had even been asked.
"... Does that mean you will never happy?" He asked softly, a quiet hesitation between the question, but he has to know, "Will you not resent me? Will it not pain you? Knowing I cannot or..." He takes the longest pause, fighting some kind of inner debate over whether or not to be truthful. In the end, he knows the only person he's lying to is himself though. "... Or will not... give you everything you want?"
He shakes his head, once again finding his own fingers extremely interesting.
"I do not understand why you would... want this. Why you..." He shrugged a little, "...Tolerate me. Especially when you are so... you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Athelstan smiles slightly. "This is the cleverness of not asking the question. I do not know what your answer would be because I do not give you the chance to give it. There is no one to resent but myself if I choose to be resentful, which I won't. You'll remember that I've always wanted for very little so it is not much that I am possibly denied."
He sighs, Ragnar makes this difficult but he supposes that he makes it no easier. That is happiness seems so fragile is not a good thing for either of them and yet he doesn't know how to repair it but to do his best to keep on. Time has proven to help many things in his life.
"When I am so me?" he questions.
The questions posed are ones that he can't answer clearly without using a word he carefully avoids using. In the years he lived with lagertha and Ragnar he had never once heard Ragnar say it even though it was clear he loved her deeply and she had tried but a simply yes had never been something offered. There's a rueful smile as he realizes that maybe that sort of admission might be a salve to the wound he has. How many lovers had Ragnar been willing to say that to? He's certain that Aslaug had never had Ragnar's heart.
He doesn't particularly like Athelstan's very delicate plan, but he understood it.
A soft, tired smile tugged at his lips for a moment when Athelstan asked for clarification. He thought that part was fairly clear.
"Yes. You are so you. You are so... -I can't imagine anyone not wanting you," Telling Athelstan he was perfect didn't even start to do him justice. Perfect sounded boring and Athelstan was endlessly fascinating to Ragnar.
"I do not tolerate you, priest," He sighed, again falling into a long stretch of conflicted silence, "I need you. I want you here with me. Always."
"I am not sure what that has to do with...this," Athelstan looked confused. Perhaps, because there is no one he really cares about wanting him other than Ragnar. "And you are quite bias in any case."
Athelstan smiles because it's easy to believe that Ragnar needs him. He's seen Ragnar through a lot of trials, ones that Ragnar has not yet lived. "You will never be denied what you need and want," he promises.
Perhaps, talking of his own want and happiness is difficult but if he strips it down to his needs it is easier. "All I need is you, Ragnar, and a world to explore."
"It means-" And then he stopped himself, shaking his head in disbelief, "It means it would be easy for to find someone... different."
He'd given it some thought and was still perplexed that Athelstan saw anything in him. Unlike Athelstan, these thoughts had never really been about self worth, but about what he was possibly offering to the monk aside from a vaguely safe place amongst the Vikings, and even that was debatable. To learn that Athelstan had returned to England and then still chosen him confused Ragnar. He had always felt a strangely deep connection between them. Some days he might even call if fate bound. But when given the chance to return to England, he wouldn't have guessed the monk would've looked back.
He sat back up, leaning forward to rest his chin on the couch cushion, looking up at Athelstan.
"That, I can give you," Though he still feared it wouldn't be enough.
"I want no one else," Athelstan counters, his voice soft snd gentle. Perhaps, that is part of the problem at the end of the day. It could have been easier if it were both of them wanting more than each other but Athelstan never did particularly make the easy choices, especially when it comes to this Viking. "I've never wanted anyone else the way I want you."
It is certainly true. With Judith the lust had been there but he never desired her to leave her husband. He never wanted more than the one time and that had been a mistake itself. He hadn't wanted dodger, not in any honest or real way.
"That's all I can ask of you."
Then he hesitates, his fingers toying with the bracelet again. "I don't..." He starts and then stops although its only to try and formulate his words carefully. "I don't want to know anymore," he finally says. Perhaps it's a juvenile method to create a bubble, a world that's a half truth thats fully believed. "About anyone. Can you try..." It isnt ragnar s fault or any thing of his doing that had brought the revelation of dodger. In the question are unspoken requests that follow the logical path of if he didnt want to know of Ragnar's lovers.
In truth, given the choice athelstan would take any opportunity to erase the knowledge from his mind but such miracles don't exist.
Ragnar deflated a little at the request. Dodger was... different. There was something raw and primal that he needed from him. It wasn't love, it was... something else. Not that Athelstan would care, or even want to understand. But Sif...
"Even... if it was a woman?" He tried, since that seemed to make some kind of difference to Athelstan, "Would you not prefer to hear it from me than be surprised? Just... a name?"
He wasn't sure what he was hoping for between them. Nothing maybe. Maybe it was ridiculous to hope any of this would work out. But at least knowing who it was had to be better than finding out by accident.
Athelstan's fingers still toyed with the bracelet and he didn't answer right away. He hadn't thought of it, not really. And in truth there were differences to him, especially this young ragnar still so desperate for more sons.
"That's fine," he said after a moment of thought. Really, maybe dodger is the only one that hurts or maybe any man would have. He doesnt know and he doesn't really want to find out. He knows that Ragnar can never be his the way that he is Ragnar's and he could never ask it of him. Itd be like caging a bird.
"I am sorry I'm difficult," he murmurs.
"You should properly clean up and take care of these wounds."
"Yes," He looked reluctantly hopeful, "You may have met her already. She is very beautiful and strong. A force to be reckoned with. I think you will like her."
He paused, shaking his head at Athelstan when he apologized, "You have nothing to apologize for. Not when it comes to," He motioned between them, "This. Us."
At the mention of his injuries, he turned his hand slightly, frowning a little when he saw that his hand still seemed to be bleeding.
"I may need you to sew that. It is deep. The others are nothing and this is just an annoyance... but a bloody one," He pointed out, making a face.
"It sounds like youve met someone who reminds you of Lagertha," Athelstan smiles a little more. "Has she thrown any dishes at you yet?"
Athelstan still feela guilty despite that assurance. There's the desire to be able to mold himself to be just right but then again thats not what Ragnar would want of him and Athelstan has too many principles for it to work anyway. If he could change who he is he would have changed long ago.
"First we need to get all of them clean and clean clothes and then I will tend to it."
"In some ways... And in others they are nothing alike," He said with a shrug, trying not to smirk at the question, "Not dishes... A few apples though. She's also thrown me through a door."
He sighs happily like he couldn't ask for anything more in a woman.
Ragnar reluctantly pushed himself to his feet with a quiet exhale of pain, wishing Athelstan would agree to just let him ignore all of this until the morning. Maybe everything except for his palm. But he knew the monk would insist on trying to clean him up.
"I see," Athelstan smiles slightly and shakes his head. Ragnar is a strange man. "I am sure you did something that called for that."
Ragnar just had a way with women, obviously.
Athelstan stands. "Do you need my help to get cleaned up?" he questions, somewhere along the lines he'd started to sober up. Perhaps it's out of necessity to settle the peace between them or maybe it's just wearing off. There's a twinge of pain starting but he ignores it in favor of making sure Ragnar doesn't just go to bed with dirty and untended wounds.
"Eh. Debatable," He said with a smile that betrayed how exhausting the day's events had been. He looked away, biting his lip. It probably wasn't a good sign at all that Athelstan hadn't asked for a name. Maybe he'd just leave it there.
"Just to sew this up," He tilted his hand to show Athelstan his palm, the deep puncture still oozing slowly.
Leaving Athelstan to get himself up, he went back into the kitchen and grabbed what was left of the bottle of whiskey, sneaking a quick couple of mouthfuls and making a face at the burn in his throat before rejoining Athelstan in the front room.
"I think there is a needle and thread upstairs in the bathroom," He was pretty sure he'd seen one in the little first aid kit Gyda had insisted they needed. Smart girl.
Athelstan is no less exhausted really and he doesn't particularly feel ready to intake any more information that day than he already has. Even he has his limits, his patience had been tested and he felt strained.
All the same, he gives Ragnar a disapproving look as the other goes to the kitchen. "Alright but you are going to clean up before you go to bed," he says stubbornly. He's on his way upstairs after that and it didn't take him long to find needle and thread and an antiseptic wash that also appeared to be in the kit.
"Sit," he says once he gets back downstairs with the supplies he'd gathered.
"Yes, yes," He sighed, waving his hand as if he were trying to clear Athelstan's concern away. Actually, soaking in a hot bath for a while before he went to sleep sounded like an amazing idea, so the monk actually didn't have anything to worry about.
He quietly took a seat at the table to Athelstan's right, laying his left arm out, palm up for him. He should thank him for cleaning up. He knew he should. Instead, he stubbornly reached for the bottle and took another drink, offering it over to Athelstan with a raised eyebrow.
Athelstan waved the bottle away when it was offered. Instead he took some of the gauze, which he had spent a bit of time studying curiously before he came back down with it. He poured some of antiseptic solution on, everything had been labeled for what it's for which had been helpful. He spends time cleaning up the hand first, the needle on the table.
Once he's satisfied, he starts to stitch. He works quickly and efficiently to make careful stitches. "It's a wonder that Bjorn never threw knives at me."
"Bjorn would have never," He stated without doubt or hesitation, once again picking at the label on the whiskey bottle, all but ignoring what Athelstan was doing.
"He may not have respected you at the time, but he respected me. And he would not have wanted to disappoint me or his mother. Throwing a knife at an unarmed slave would have been very dishonorable."
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He tore through more of the sticker, gritting his teeth.
He hated himself.
Of course, in the oppressive silence, it's almost impossible not to hear Athelstan's mumbling.
"What difference does that make?" He's genuinely asking. Did Athelstan's permission to love anyone he wanted only apply to women?
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His hand switches to the crucifix but neither symbols really are providing him much comfort. One is attached to the source of his pain and the other a reminder that his pain is caused by broken vows.
He shook his head at the question and it's hard to find an answer that is honest without revealing more than he is willing to.
"It doesn't matter, Ragnar," he finally says. It's close enough to the truth. He thinks, perhaps, he really understands why Lagertha had to leave. It is hard to love Ragnar, to be with him. It would have been easier to have never kissed him to have been repressed and while denied those moments of thrilling true happiness he could have saved himself this particular burden.
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He leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face. Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way into the living room and sat down on the floor in front of the couch so he could finally look Athelstan in the eye.
His lips parted, but he ended up sighing again and rolling his eyes at himself, at all of this. It was all so frustrating.
"How can I know what you want from me, if you will not tell me," He gave him a pleading look, though it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt being this open and vulnerable. He studied his finger for a moment, the blood caked under his fingersnails, and then looked back up at Athelstan, searching his face.
"You said before... that... you did not care," He went to reach for Athelstan's hand, but stopped himself, instead he started toying with the seam of the couch cushion, "Talk to me. I do not want to lose you and my son in one night... Please..."
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"I won't ask things of you that you cannot give. I know how that turns out for people," Athelstan whispers and he's thinking of Lagertha again. He reaches to take his hand. Somehow it aches to do so.
He forces a smile then. "You can never lose me. I'm always by your side, I'll always follow you. I always choose you. And you only lose your son if you're too big a fool to right things no matter who's at fault or who's childish."
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"Maybe you should let me judge what I can or cannot give up," He pointed out quietly. He wasn't certain, about anything, but he knew he didn't like seeing Athelstan like this, "You are obviously not happy..."
The smile Athelstan attempts is more than enough proof, though he believes every word Athelstan says.
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"If I told you, I would either always wonder if you'd come to resent me or I would be... I would know that you couldn't," the correct words are hard to find but he does his best. "My happiness is not your responsibility. Some questions are better left unasked and unanswered. Doesn't the seer always warn about too much knowledge?
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With a quiet exhale, he eased backward to lay down, closing his eyes for a beat before opening them to stare up at the dark ceiling.
"The knowledge of what your lover expects in your relationship?" He asked with a sigh, at least his tone was light, almost teasing. At this point, he didn't know what to do, "No, Athelstan, the Seer has never warned me of such things."
His happiness was not Ragnar's responsibility... then why did it feel like his unhappiness was his fault?
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"Wouldn't it pain you if I asked more of you than you could give?" Athelstan says softly. "Know that my desire for you is never quenched, my l-... my affection immeasurable and my ability to vex you is unceasing and infinite."
He finishes with a slow smile. In a way, he has honestly told Ragnar what he wants, just not in terms that force a decision or that require the acknowledgment that a question had even been asked.
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He shakes his head, once again finding his own fingers extremely interesting.
"I do not understand why you would... want this. Why you..." He shrugged a little, "...Tolerate me. Especially when you are so... you."
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He sighs, Ragnar makes this difficult but he supposes that he makes it no easier. That is happiness seems so fragile is not a good thing for either of them and yet he doesn't know how to repair it but to do his best to keep on. Time has proven to help many things in his life.
"When I am so me?" he questions.
The questions posed are ones that he can't answer clearly without using a word he carefully avoids using. In the years he lived with lagertha and Ragnar he had never once heard Ragnar say it even though it was clear he loved her deeply and she had tried but a simply yes had never been something offered. There's a rueful smile as he realizes that maybe that sort of admission might be a salve to the wound he has. How many lovers had Ragnar been willing to say that to? He's certain that Aslaug had never had Ragnar's heart.
"Why do you tolerate me?"
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A soft, tired smile tugged at his lips for a moment when Athelstan asked for clarification. He thought that part was fairly clear.
"Yes. You are so you. You are so... -I can't imagine anyone not wanting you," Telling Athelstan he was perfect didn't even start to do him justice. Perfect sounded boring and Athelstan was endlessly fascinating to Ragnar.
"I do not tolerate you, priest," He sighed, again falling into a long stretch of conflicted silence, "I need you. I want you here with me. Always."
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Athelstan smiles because it's easy to believe that Ragnar needs him. He's seen Ragnar through a lot of trials, ones that Ragnar has not yet lived. "You will never be denied what you need and want," he promises.
Perhaps, talking of his own want and happiness is difficult but if he strips it down to his needs it is easier. "All I need is you, Ragnar, and a world to explore."
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He'd given it some thought and was still perplexed that Athelstan saw anything in him. Unlike Athelstan, these thoughts had never really been about self worth, but about what he was possibly offering to the monk aside from a vaguely safe place amongst the Vikings, and even that was debatable. To learn that Athelstan had returned to England and then still chosen him confused Ragnar. He had always felt a strangely deep connection between them. Some days he might even call if fate bound. But when given the chance to return to England, he wouldn't have guessed the monk would've looked back.
He sat back up, leaning forward to rest his chin on the couch cushion, looking up at Athelstan.
"That, I can give you," Though he still feared it wouldn't be enough.
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It is certainly true. With Judith the lust had been there but he never desired her to leave her husband. He never wanted more than the one time and that had been a mistake itself. He hadn't wanted dodger, not in any honest or real way.
"That's all I can ask of you."
Then he hesitates, his fingers toying with the bracelet again. "I don't..." He starts and then stops although its only to try and formulate his words carefully. "I don't want to know anymore," he finally says. Perhaps it's a juvenile method to create a bubble, a world that's a half truth thats fully believed. "About anyone. Can you try..." It isnt ragnar s fault or any thing of his doing that had brought the revelation of dodger. In the question are unspoken requests that follow the logical path of if he didnt want to know of Ragnar's lovers.
In truth, given the choice athelstan would take any opportunity to erase the knowledge from his mind but such miracles don't exist.
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"Even... if it was a woman?" He tried, since that seemed to make some kind of difference to Athelstan, "Would you not prefer to hear it from me than be surprised? Just... a name?"
He wasn't sure what he was hoping for between them. Nothing maybe. Maybe it was ridiculous to hope any of this would work out. But at least knowing who it was had to be better than finding out by accident.
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"That's fine," he said after a moment of thought. Really, maybe dodger is the only one that hurts or maybe any man would have. He doesnt know and he doesn't really want to find out. He knows that Ragnar can never be his the way that he is Ragnar's and he could never ask it of him. Itd be like caging a bird.
"I am sorry I'm difficult," he murmurs.
"You should properly clean up and take care of these wounds."
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He paused, shaking his head at Athelstan when he apologized, "You have nothing to apologize for. Not when it comes to," He motioned between them, "This. Us."
At the mention of his injuries, he turned his hand slightly, frowning a little when he saw that his hand still seemed to be bleeding.
"I may need you to sew that. It is deep. The others are nothing and this is just an annoyance... but a bloody one," He pointed out, making a face.
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Athelstan still feela guilty despite that assurance. There's the desire to be able to mold himself to be just right but then again thats not what Ragnar would want of him and Athelstan has too many principles for it to work anyway. If he could change who he is he would have changed long ago.
"First we need to get all of them clean and clean clothes and then I will tend to it."
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He sighs happily like he couldn't ask for anything more in a woman.
Ragnar reluctantly pushed himself to his feet with a quiet exhale of pain, wishing Athelstan would agree to just let him ignore all of this until the morning. Maybe everything except for his palm. But he knew the monk would insist on trying to clean him up.
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Ragnar just had a way with women, obviously.
Athelstan stands. "Do you need my help to get cleaned up?" he questions, somewhere along the lines he'd started to sober up. Perhaps it's out of necessity to settle the peace between them or maybe it's just wearing off. There's a twinge of pain starting but he ignores it in favor of making sure Ragnar doesn't just go to bed with dirty and untended wounds.
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"Just to sew this up," He tilted his hand to show Athelstan his palm, the deep puncture still oozing slowly.
Leaving Athelstan to get himself up, he went back into the kitchen and grabbed what was left of the bottle of whiskey, sneaking a quick couple of mouthfuls and making a face at the burn in his throat before rejoining Athelstan in the front room.
"I think there is a needle and thread upstairs in the bathroom," He was pretty sure he'd seen one in the little first aid kit Gyda had insisted they needed. Smart girl.
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All the same, he gives Ragnar a disapproving look as the other goes to the kitchen. "Alright but you are going to clean up before you go to bed," he says stubbornly. He's on his way upstairs after that and it didn't take him long to find needle and thread and an antiseptic wash that also appeared to be in the kit.
"Sit," he says once he gets back downstairs with the supplies he'd gathered.
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He quietly took a seat at the table to Athelstan's right, laying his left arm out, palm up for him. He should thank him for cleaning up. He knew he should. Instead, he stubbornly reached for the bottle and took another drink, offering it over to Athelstan with a raised eyebrow.
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Once he's satisfied, he starts to stitch. He works quickly and efficiently to make careful stitches. "It's a wonder that Bjorn never threw knives at me."
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"He may not have respected you at the time, but he respected me. And he would not have wanted to disappoint me or his mother. Throwing a knife at an unarmed slave would have been very dishonorable."
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