Work Text:
“Pater Noster,
qui es in caelis,
sanctificetur nomen tuum.
Adveniat regnum tuum.
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra.”
Stowe hadn't counted the prayers that had left his lips that night.
His knees hurt, the cold floor gave his legs bruises, but he couldn’t care less. He bent his back forward more and his forehead was now touching the ground.
“Please, God. Please”, he begged for an uncountable time and started a new prayer.
From all the days he had walked on this earth and breathed the air, this one was the worst. It had started like every normal day. Stowe awoke in Erke’s arms, stole a kiss from his beloved before the daily duties were about to start. The rebuilding of Lunden was not easy but the citizens did a great job and most days proceeded in peace. The biggest problem were reavers who thought that Lundun was wounded and an easy catch. Unfortunately for them, the reeves and the guards were very well trained and always on their watch.
Stowe bit his lip and tried to focus on his prayer.
“Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.”
He gulped down a sob, the words died in his throat and he took a deep breath.
It was all his fault. He had been distracted by the beauty of the rising stars, a sight he never got tired of. The stars had promised to be more gorgeous than any other night and Stowe wanted to tell Erke, but -.
He couldn’t hold back his tears any longer and his body started to shake .
“Please, God. Let him live. I’m your loyal servant and your will is my will. But please, please don’t take him away from me.”
- the moment he had turned to Erke, there was a scream, a warning. Someone had shouted their names and a second later, Stowe was pushed aside. He had fallen hard on the ground, alerted by the scream. But it was too late.
A gurgling gasp had sounded next to him and Erke broke down. Everything after happened too fast. Reavers appeared, guards came to their help, civilians were shouting and Stowe remembered that he fought against two men.
They must have won, because he brought Erke to the healers and when he laid his lover on the narrow bed, he got aware of all the blood the both of them were covered in. He had looked at his own hands, wet, sticky with blood that still felt warm. He lifted his look and saw the deep dangerous wound on Erke’s chest.
“Pater Noster”
, Stowe tried to start a new prayer, but the words came out as a thin whisper.
After Erke was stitched up, the healers had told him that all they could do was to wait for him to wake up, but the chances that he would die were higher than his chance to live. During the first hours Stowe was sitting next to his love, holding his cold and sweaty hand, telling him that he had to fight and that he felt sorry. The Saxon had started to pray next to Erke, but the sight of his wounded, unconscious partner was more than he could bear and he needed to get some fresh air.
He ended up in St. Paul’s church, kneeling in front of the big crucifix, praying and begging.
His mind had built up a mental barrier, so he wasn’t overwhelmed by his feelings but with every psalm and every minute that was elapsing, the bricks of the wall were fading and reality was hitting him hard.
What would he do if Erke would die today? Could he try to continue his life as reeve? How would he be able to deal with the loss? This man was all he wanted in his life, all he had always looked for. Erke was the present God had given to him and he wasn’t content with losing him.
“Let him live, please. I will do whatever you want, I will do more prayers, I will worship you all my life, just don’t let him die. He is too young and his heart is too pure. He may not believe in you but his kindness is needed in our world. I need him.”
Tears were running down his cheeks, dripping on the cold floor. Stowe’s right hand was clenched around his own crucifix and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.
“I love him. I need him. He is more than just my partner, he is what keeps me alive. His smile cheers my heart, the touch of his hand gives me strength and one gaze of his eyes cures me from my sins and sorrows. Please, don’t let him die.”
Stowe kissed his shaky fist with the crucifix inside and started to mumble new prayers. He needed to focus. He needed to believe in God’s and Erke’s strength and power. He shouldn't let his fear darken his soul.
The Saxon swallowed.
“Forgive me, God, for saying these words in your holy house”, he begged for pardon before he started: “All gods of Erke, I don’t know all your names and I deeply apologize. I’m not your servant, but my friend is and he needs your blessings. Have mercy with him, don’t take him to Valhalla tonight. He has duties to fulfill and beloved ones who need him.”
Stowe raised his back and ignored the painful ache. He pressed his hand on his shoulder. Just a tiny battle wound. It would be healed in three days.
He looked at his hands. They were still covered in blood, there hadn’t been any time to wash himself and to change his clothes. Erke’s dried blood shimmered copperly and it was oddly gorgeous.
“Reeve Stowe!” a voice shouted and ripped the silence in the church apart.
“Reeve Stowe, please come with me. The reeve of the east...please follow me.”
The Saxon’s heart tightened painfully and he got up slowly. His legs felt numb from the hours of kneeling and he followed the man in a state that was something between reality and the darkness of his deepest fears. The man hadn’t spoken in a cheerful voice, there was no sign in it that Erke was awake. That would mean that his partner had died.
Stowe stumbled and leant against a tree. No...no. It wasn’t happening. How could he forgive himself that he hadn’t been at Erke’s side in his last moments. Why did he have to go to the church?
The man led him inside the house of the healers and stopped in front of a closed door. One of the healers stood next to it, nodding gently in Stowe’s direction.
“He is awake”, the man whispered and a stone as big as St. Paul’s church fell from Stowe’s heart.
He opened the door with one swing, closed it behind himself and stared at the small bed. He took a step, then paused. Took another.
He drew closer to his love, not sure if he could trust the healer's words.
“Sto-”, Erke said with a rusty and cracked voice. A short sob escaped Stowe’s throat, before he kneeled next to his partner, cupping his hand and kissing his knuckles.
“Thank God…”, he whispered and his body was shaking, caused by the tears of relief.
“Dear...don’t weep '', Erke whispered and smiled tenderly.
Stowe pressed the Dane’s hand closer against his cheek. It was still a little cold, but warmer than before.
“I was afraid I would lose you”, he admitted, got up and bent over Erke to kiss his lips.
“As if I would leave you that easy”, Erke tried to joke and looked at his lover. “You hurt? The blood-?”
“It’s not mine”, Stowe smiled. His heart felt like a feather and he was sure that he could fly, if he tried.
“It’s yours.”
“Baldur’s sack. Seems like I was trying to change the colour of your tunic. Doesn’t look that bad.”
The Saxon chuckled. It was a good sign that his love was already trying to make lovely jokes.
“I prefer your blood inside your body and maybe your body is allowed to rest on my tunic.”
Erke laughed but stopped as the pain in his chest got stronger.
“I will remind you of that, when I can leave this stupid bed. How long do I need to stay here?”
"Until you’re able to get up on your own.”
“Bet I can do it.”
“No! No, no, no. Please, Erke. Give yourself some rest. I will not leave your side.”
Stowe stroke gently over his lover’s sweaty forehead.
“You’re sure? Because you stink. You should change these clothes.”
Stowe froze for one second before he smirked.
“Maybe it would be better if you had died. It would have spared me your tender words. And you stink even worse.”
“Can’t be true. I bet they cleaned me before they stitched me up.”
“I love you, Erke.”
“I love you too, Sparrowheart.”