Morning tensions

The air was crisp, the sun barely cresting over the horizon as Elyswith stepped outside into the early morning light. She breathed in deeply, the coolness of the air contrasting with the heat that had settled over the night. She had always found solace in moments like this—when the world was quiet, and the weight of everything seemed a little less heavy.

She walked further outside, the soft ground beneath her feet. Ahead of her, Ragnar was hunched over a table, his back bent as he skillfully gutted and cleaned fish. The rhythmic sound of his knife slicing through the fish's flesh broke the silence, but somehow, it brought her a sense of peace. 

Athelstan stepped outside then, his face pale and drawn, eyes wide as if he had not slept at all. The sight of him nearly stopped Elyswith's breath. Her brother, the calm and faithful monk, seemed a shadow of the person he used to be. He moved past her without noticing, his hands trembling slightly. She instinctively reached out to him.

"Brother?" Elyswith called softly, her voice a quiet plea.

Athelstan didn't respond, his focus elsewhere, his body stiff as he hurried toward the water basin. The urgency in his movement made Elyswith's heart tighten. He was struggling, fighting something inside himself. She followed him, feeling the distance between them grow despite her physical proximity.

He washed his face roughly, as though he could scrub away the torment, but his hands shook violently. Elyswith stayed silent, unsure of what to say. She had seen him go through pain before, but this... this was different. His breath quickened, and soon the sobs came. His tears mixed with the water, making it impossible to know where one ended and the other began.

Elyswith froze. She wanted to help, to comfort him, but the words seemed to escape her. She moved closer, reaching for him, but before she could speak, he turned sharply, panic flooding his face. He rushed past her, the fear in his eyes making her stomach drop. He glanced back at Ragnar as he passed, and for a fleeting moment, Elyswith saw an odd combination of distrust and fear. It unsettled her deeply.

Athelstan didn't stop to explain. He just rushed inside, leaving her standing in the quiet, unable to follow immediately. She hesitated but then followed his path, a sense of dread building in her chest.

"Athelstan, wait" she called out again as she closed in on him in the doorway, her voice breaking the silence between them. "Please, what's wrong?"

But her brother did not answer. His mind was somewhere far away, lost in something that Elyswith could not understand. When she caught up to him, he had already picked up a knife, his hands shaking as he held it tightly. She watched, horror rising in her chest, as he moved toward the patch of hair on his scalp that had begun to grow back. He seemed intent on shaving it, cutting away the remnants of the man he had once been.

"No!" Elyswith cried, rushing to him and grabbing his wrist. The blade slipped, and a thin line of blood appeared on his skin, making her heart lurch.

Athelstan's breath was ragged. "Athelstan, stop!" she begged, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment. "Please, just talk to me. You're scaring me."

But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. His eyes were wide with confusion and pain, yet there was no recognition of her in them. His body shook violently, his silent sobs a heartbreaking contrast to his earlier calm. Elyswith's chest tightened as she held the knife, her fingers trembling as she tried to wrest it from his grip.

It was then that Lagertha and her children appeared in the doorway. The sight of them brought a momentary break in the tension. Lagertha's gaze immediately softened when she saw the scene, but the children—young, unaware—laughed at the sight of the commotion, adding an innocent levity to the moment.

"Time for breakfast," Lagertha said in her usual steady tone, but there was concern in her eyes as she nudged the children forward. She cast a disapproving glance at them before stepping forward, her gaze briefly meeting Elyswith's before turning to Athelstan.

Elyswith moved quickly to remove the knife from Athelstan's hand, her fingers gentle yet firm. "It's okay, Athelstan," she whispered, her voice soothing but filled with urgency. "Let me help you."

With quiet focus, Elyswith began to shave the remaining hair from his head, careful to avoid the fresh cut. She could feel her brother's trembling beneath her touch, and it pained her to see him so broken.

Ragnar appeared then, his towering form filling the doorway as he leaned against the frame, arms crossed. His gaze lingered on Elyswith for a moment before moving to Athelstan, then back again. There was a faint, amused smirk on his lips, but it was softened by the genuine concern in his eyes as he watched Elyswith handle the situation with surprising tenderness.

"You know," Ragnar said, his voice teasing but with an edge of admiration, "I could've done that for you. I'm quite good with a knife."

Elyswith didn't look up as she carefully continued shaving Athelstan's head. She could feel the warmth of Ragnar's gaze on her, and despite the gravity of the situation, her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. His attention made her heart race, but she kept her focus on her brother.

"I'm sure you are," she replied, keeping her voice steady.

Ragnar chuckled, a low, teasing sound that made her pulse quicken, even though she tried to keep her composure. "You're a strong woman," he said with genuine appreciation in his voice. "I admire that."

Elyswith gave a forced smile before returning her attention to Athelstan, who had finally calmed, his sobs tapering off. She finished shaving the last of the hair from his scalp, gently wiping the blood from his skin. With a deep breath, she took his hand in hers, offering him a steady presence as she whispered, "I'm here, Athelstan. I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, it was just the two of them, the world outside fading into the background as Elyswith focused on comforting her brother. Nothing else mattered.

And in that moment, she felt the weight of it all—the uncertainty, the fear, and the chaos of their new life—yet her brother's quiet presence gave her the strength to carry on