“I can’t have you getting sick.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“And I’m telling you you’re not. You’re covered in gooseflesh and shivers rack your body. Do as you’re told for once.”
Ragnar smiled benevolently.
“Don’t look at me like that. Give me your hand.”
He placed his manacled right wrist onto Absolon’s waiting palm.
“Don’t try anything.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ragnar’s smile broadened.
Absolon grumbled and undid one manacle, watching him the whole time, ready for anything he might do. But he was not about to fuck up this gift. Ruining Absolon’s trust now would only put him further from an escape. His need to play fast and get out faster was replaced with a smarter strategy. Absolon had shown how much he cared for and needed him. A whole month together would be more than enough. Hell, with the way Absolon was behaving, he only needed a few more days.
He lifted his arm free of the shackle and held up his other. Absolon monitored him, but seeing no subterfuge, he let the chain drop. It hit the ground with a clang. He unfastened the other manacle.
I’m free. Ragnar rubbed his wrists gently; the skin having worn away close to bleeding. He fought a wince.
“Do they hurt?”
“No, and if they did, it would be no more than I deserve.” He shucked off the blanket from around his shoulders, folded and put it on the stool, then pulled the shirt over his body and tied the cords at his neck. The chill and the irritation of coarse wool on his skin abated. “Thank you.” He picked up the chains where they’d fallen and held them up for his bondage to be reinstated.
Absolon took up the manacles in a daze, as if he didn’t expect such compliance and was rightly wary of a trap, but he bound him just the same.
The irons weighed heavier on Ragnar’s wrists, a small protest after feeling so light and free, a sinking regret that perhaps he should have taken his chance. At least then he’d have died a hero, a warrior who had never succumbed to another’s will. But heroes of old had always been wily and there would come a time when he could work his way free without needing to rely on luck. He could wait.
Absolon let him go but Ragnar reached out slowly and touched his hand, gentle and tender. Absolon froze.
“What happened to you, Sol?”
Absolon withdrew from his cold caress.
“Who did this to you? Who made you into this?”
“You did.” Absolon hurried to the door and stuck the key in the lock.
“If only I had such power. What really happened? Let me know the full weight of my sins.”
Absolon leant his forehead against the door and sighed, submitting his whole body to it. “What do you think happened to me?”
“If I believed in fairy tales, I’d say some elf found you and granted you a few wishes, making you strong and deadly, and gifting you with the power to seek your revenge.”
“And what would I have given for that?”
Ragnar smiled. This was just some game. Absolon could have easily made himself stronger through lifting heavier and heavier things. He could have trained himself to be faster. The way he killed the men, though…surely there was a reasonable explanation. Poison touch? Concealed knife?
But he’d play along.
“Well, usually you have to pay with your soul.”
Absolon turned mournful eyes towards him, hard to see in the dim light but clear enough. And the sadness in them gripped Ragnar’s throat.
“Absolon, tell me what really happened. I want to know.”
“You won’t believe me.”
“I will. Whatever you tell me, I’ll believe you believe it to be true.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No, but for your own good—”
“Since when do you care what’s good for me?”
“I’m sorry. I see that whatever has happened to you has been a lot to bear. You might say you’ve not been lonely out here, but I can see it, Sol. This has taken its toll. Give me your burden, otherwise my death will be as insignificant as the deaths of those men.”
He screwed his eyes shut. “Those deaths weren’t insignificant. Each one hurt.” He opened his eyes. “You would be far better suited to this life than me.”
“What life? I could not be where you are. My soul is too restless for it.”
“And I know that more than most.” He turned away. “And I’ll know it even more than you when this is over.”
“Please, Sol, tell me what happened.”
Absolon wrenched the door open and stalked out. Ragnar could hear him out there, marching up and down, his breathing getting heavier and heavier. Another fit was coming to take him but there was nothing for him to attack.
“Absolon! Come back!" He strained against his manacles, getting as close to the door as possible. “Don’t let the fit control you. Let me help you.”
And he wanted to. He should have welcomed this discomfort and Absolon’s decline, especially if it turned into a fight. He might be able to get the keys from him or wring some advantage from the situation, but the sight of Absolon’s pain had quelled those desires and stoked another. He wanted to soothe the beast.
“Don’t give into it! Come back to me!"
Silence.
Ragnar’s blood beat through his arteries.
“Sol?”
Absolon roared and charged into the cell, his hackles were up, his muscles bulging, his eyes wild and menacing. Ragnar swallowed hard and braced as Absolon’s whole weight bore down upon him and crushed him into the wall. His spine cracked, his body jerked with the impact, and Absolon’s slavering frothing mouth was close to his. He knew better than to look him in the eyes.
“Sol, please,” he said softly. “What happened to you?”
“Liar! Oathbreaker!"
“Yes, Sol, I’m all of it. I’m sorry.”
“You did this to me. You cursed me with this.”
“I know. I can see it. Let me help you.”
Ragnar put a hand on his shoulder, but Absolon snapped his jaws at him and threw Ragnar back against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. He steadied himself, tried again, shaking, and this time Absolon didn’t push him away. A cornered beast, he only wanted to bite, but if he expected to be struck, Ragnar had to make him believe the opposite.
He put his other hand on Absolon’s other shoulder, earning a growl from the berserker. Ragnar still didn’t look in his eyes, but he felt the hot breath shooting out of Absolon’s nose. Slowly, he brought his hands closer together, smoothing along Absolon’s shoulders and up to the base of his neck. He stopped, waiting to be thrown off or struck.
Meeting no resistance, his hands slid up Absolon’s neck. The berserker bucked. Ragnar held on, shushed him carefully, then hummed Hitta mig på morgonen. Absolon bristled but the fit eased. Ragnar’s hands grew hot, warmed by the heat of Absolon’s blood. Absolon’s hands were pressed hard against the wall beside Ragnar’s ears, tensing and relaxing and trying to dig their way through the stone. Ragnar continued humming, gliding his hands up to Absolon’s burning cheeks. Praying he wouldn’t be rejected and punished for his boldness, he looked into Absolon’s eyes and sank into the fear and pain filling them.