A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he remembered the look of shock and outrage on his son's face. A poignant lesson that life would throw things at you that you had to deal with even if you thought they were outrageously unfair. Thinking and speaking of Bjorn, the man he had apparently become, only made him dwell on how he'd, apparently, failed his future sons.
He silently reached for the bottle and took another drink, quietly hating himself for mistakes he hadn't even made yet.
He waved Athelstan off, "I will go when I am ready."
Athelstan frowns at him, eyeing the bottle. "Stop dwelling on things you can't change," he says gently. He stands and his hand drops to his shoulder and he squeezes. There's no other words he really has to offer and he doesn't say anything else before he grabs a jacket he's acquired from near the entrance.
"Good night," he's planning to spend at least a few hours out with his art and books, either trying to pray or drawing or both. It'd been clear that Ragnar hadn't wanted to join him in bed and he didn't want to deal with that fact just now.
Ragnar made a face, something close to an annoyed sneer. He knew Athelstan was right and that was the worst part, that he couldn't change anything. That he just knows he'll do it and there's nothing he can do to stop it or mend it and his children obviously hate him for it and... he deserved it.
He watched Athelstan like a hawk, watched him get his jacket, his eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he walked away, but he didn't ask where he was going, too proud at the moment to want to sound desperate. And he would. He didn't want Athelstan to leave, but it was probably better for them both to get some space.
He'd find Ragnar bathed and passed out, cradling the bottle, in the spare bedroom when he returned.
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He silently reached for the bottle and took another drink, quietly hating himself for mistakes he hadn't even made yet.
He waved Athelstan off, "I will go when I am ready."
no subject
"Good night," he's planning to spend at least a few hours out with his art and books, either trying to pray or drawing or both. It'd been clear that Ragnar hadn't wanted to join him in bed and he didn't want to deal with that fact just now.
no subject
He watched Athelstan like a hawk, watched him get his jacket, his eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he walked away, but he didn't ask where he was going, too proud at the moment to want to sound desperate. And he would. He didn't want Athelstan to leave, but it was probably better for them both to get some space.
He'd find Ragnar bathed and passed out, cradling the bottle, in the spare bedroom when he returned.