“You don’t deserve it.”
“Then what about you? What about what you deserve? After I’m gone, who will be there for you? No doubt you can have any you turn your attention to, man or woman, but who is there alive who knows you like I know you?”
“And what good has that done me?”
“Take pleasure where you can get it, Sol.”
He flinched away from the name but didn’t rail against it. “Pleasure is not what I want from you.”
Absolon’s disdain struck flint in Ragnar’s heart, and Absolon’s mewling cowardice stoked his anger. “Oh yes, you want my life because you think it will make things right, but it won’t. Mark my words it will only ruin you. Those deeds will haunt you for the rest of your life. Take it from me.”
“What have you ever regretted? Ragnar the Heartless cares for nothing and no one.”
As quickly as his ire flared, Absolon’s words doused it, leaving behind smoke and ash. “You’re wrong, Sol. I do know what it means to have a heart and I know what it means for one to break, and I regret breaking yours.”
Absolon looked as if he’d been struck. “The Devil should come to you for lessons in lying. You speak nothing but falsehoods.”
“It is the truth.”
“You think a stiff cock is proof enough?”
“That’s just a bonus.”
Absolon sneered.
“I cared for you, Sol. I regret what I did to you. I…I am ashamed of it. Ever since I left you behind, I have thought of you and wondered how you fared. I hoped you had made it out of there and made a better life for yourself, much better than the one I could have given you.” He hadn’t planned to say all that. And he hadn’t planned for it to hurt so much.
“I didn’t want another life. I wanted the one we had.” Absolon thumped his chest, and pain twisted his features. “Together.”
“I know, but it was impossible, and I’m sorry. I’d do anything to make that up to you.”
“You will.” Abruptly, Absolon left the cell.
Ragnar backed away a little, a small trace of fear at what he would return with, but when he reappeared, he carried in one arm a thick brown woolen blanket and a change of clothes, and a stool in another. He placed the dry clothes on the stool. “Get dressed.” He didn’t look at Ragnar.
Ragnar had never before felt more naked and exposed and rejected. If he could not offer his body nor his heart, then what could he possibly give to save his life?
Absolon slunk from the cell and locked him in, and in the pale afternoon light, Ragnar dressed and huddled beneath his blanket.
That night Ragnar sang for himself as much as for Absolon. He paced the cell as far as he could, the ground still cold, damp and turning to ice, as the temperature plummeted. Unpredictable autumn eager to become winter. He couldn’t get the shirt on over the manacles but wrapped it over his shoulders and cowered beneath the blanket for warmth. The trousers were good enough. If it hadn’t been for all that water and the sodden earth, he would have been warmer than on any other night. A shame there was nowhere dry to lie down.
The sad songs of loss only made the night colder, and so he turned his voice to songs of hope and love found. One of which had been a favorite of Absolon’s, one that he’d sung only for him, and as it flew from his mouth and fluttered in the rafters, his heart soared with it, forgetting for a while about how and why he was there, and that it was the two of them once more in happier times.
He had been kinder to Absolon then. He had basked in the younger man’s idolatry. Surely, he had not always treated him so harshly? There had been tenderness, otherwise why would Absolon have stayed with him? Why would he have abandoned a good life for the rough one they’d traded it for?
Soon after they’d left the army and gone skulking off into the countryside, they’d gotten into trouble in some backwater tavern in a town that stank of pig shit. They’d been hassled, someone had threatened Ragnar, and Absolon had gone into his berserker fit. He’d cracked skulls, broken tables and chairs, terrified the locals and tackled four men at once. But when Ragnar intervened and the cowards had slunk away, Absolon saw him and calmed, the shame crashed over him, thinking he’d done Ragnar wrong. He’d taken Absolon’s hand and they’d run from the tavern, and Ragnar had soothed the beast within, and made love with such gentleness yet such ferocity that Absolon had been revived.
At no point during the whole ordeal had Ragnar thought about himself, only about Absolon. And he knew then that Absolon would be his downfall.
If anyone threatened Absolon’s life, he would be undone. He was the weak spot that he could not have if he were to seek his revenge. Because if Absolon tried to turn him from it, he would do it.
When that memory flooded him, he stopped singing, and though Absolon’s lantern light remained outside his door, he did not sing again. A restless night passed in which the cold in the cell could not rival the chill in his heart.
“Your singing is getting better.” Absolon brought food and water, this time adding dried fish to the dark rye bread.
Ragnar’s mouth watered, and his fingers primed ready to stuff the lot in his mouth once Absolon was gone. “I’m glad you think so. Do you have any requests?”
Absolon’s lips twitched as he considered the question, even though Ragnar had meant it as a joke.
“Hitta mig på morgonen,” he mumbled.
Ragnar was shocked. “I thought the one about the boy with the horse was your favorite.”
“It used to be.”
Used to be… Back when we used to mean something to each other.
“I’ll remember that. Thank you for the fish.”
Absolon grunted. “You haven’t put on your shirt.”
Ragnar closed the blanket tighter around his shoulders, unwelcome shame sliding through him over the display he’d made of himself the day before. He rattled one of the manacles. “Bit hard to do with these on. I’m fine, though. The blanket is warm.”
Absolon removed the keys from the lock and closed the door, shutting them both inside. “Stand up.” He held the smallest of the three keys in one hand and his other hand flat.
His heart kicked up its rhythm. He could get out. The keys were so close. He could snatch them from Absolon’s grip, throw the blanket over him and strike him across the head with the stool, buying time to unlock the manacles and the door and run.
Only it wouldn’t work, and his desire to flee was somewhat tempered. Better to be prepared than foolish.
He stood, kept his fists tight beneath the blanket. “What are you doing?”
“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 shoulder
s, 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.
“Give it to me, Sol. I can take it. All of it.” Ragnar carefully touched his lips to Absolon’s mouth.
Absolon slammed him against the wall, his mouth mashing painfully against Ragnar’s. A wave of sadness washed through him, and Absolon scrambled like he was trying to push through Ragnar. He shuddered, and the berserker fit passed. A heavy, harsh sob erupted from Absolon’s throat and lodged in Ragnar’s unprotected heart. Absolon cried into his mouth, a bellow followed by tears. Ragnar hugged him close and broke the kiss to whisper close to his ear.
“Give it all to me, Absolon. Give me what I deserve.”
Absolon stepped back, wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm, and looked at Ragnar with sorrowful determination. Ragnar didn’t change a muscle in his body or face. He barely breathed. The fit had passed, but Absolon was still unstable. One wrong move and any hope he had of turning this to his advantage would shatter. But thoughts of escape drowned as the sweaty mass of Absolon stood before him. Ragnar wanted him more than he’d ever wanted him before.
“Fuck me, Absolon. Fuck me like you hate me.”
Absolon charged, grabbed at Ragnar’s trousers and ripped them from his body, exposing his already hard cock, and with breathtaking strength, grabbed the chains and ripped them from the wall. How strong was he? But the thought didn’t linger as Absolon spun him around, wrestled down his own trousers, and pressed him against the wall. He spat on his cock and pressed it against Ragnar’s hole, barely giving him a moment to gather himself before pushing his way inside.
Ragnar cried out silently as Absolon impaled him, a burning that made him hiss and grit his teeth. Absolon was not gentle, but Ragnar took it. He took it all as Absolon drove into him again and again, until pain gave way to his pleasure. He struggled to keep the moans from escaping while Absolon hit the sweet spot deep inside. Absolon was big and riding his cock had always brought him great pleasure, but now, his desperate fucking overrode his silence and he swore aloud as Absolon ploughed him. He begged for more and didn’t care that he sounded like a harlot. He pushed back onto Absolon’s thick shaft, forgetting this was meant to be for Absolon and Absolon alon
e. If he were going to die, he wanted his last fuck to be memorable.
Absolon fucked him hard and fast, digging his fingers into Ragnar’s hips with such force he’d leave bruises, but for now all pain was good pain. Absolon’s breath shortened, hastened, ramming into him for a few good strides, and came with a heart-wrenching guttural cry that left Ragnar’s body quivering. Absolon gasped for air and let his head drop onto Ragnar’s sweat-soaked back.
They stayed like that, Absolon’s cock pulsing inside his ass, making Ragnar’s own cock twitch for attention. But he dared not push back and derive more pleasure for himself while Absolon was so still.
Then he heard it. His stillness gave way to trembling, his silence to sobs, and tears soaked into Ragnar’s shirt. Absolon wept and the sound and the heaviness of his body weighed on Ragnar’s heart, grinding it into pulp. He had done this. He had always thought the worst he could have done was take another’s life, yet here was a destroyed man.
A man he had destroyed.
“Sol?”
When there was no change, he repeated himself and Absolon pulled out of him slowly and turned away. Ragnar hated how empty he felt. And though the manacles were no longer attached to the wall, he was in no way free.
“Sol, tell me what happened.”
Absolon wiped at his red eyes and sniffed up the snot in his nose. “You don’t want to hear it.” He tucked himself away.
“I do.”
“You’ll think I’m a monster.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Those words: I promise. Ragnar had never trusted them himself, and he’d already ruined Absolon’s eternal trust in everything; why should he trust him now? But Ragnar gathered the rug around himself to hide his nakedness and sat on the stool, keeping away from the door, away from any potential Absolon might see in him attempting to escape.
“There’s nothing you can say that will make this any worse.”
Absolon’s mouth hitched up in the corner, like it was a joke that Ragnar hadn’t been allowed into. “After you tied me up and…and abandoned me, I tried to get free.” He put his fingers to his mouth and plucked at his bottom lip. “You…” He blew out a breath. “You broke my heart and…and I thought…” He paused, his gaze flicking to Ragnar then away again. “I thought that once I got free and found you I could…I could make you see your mistake.”
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 20