Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set after season one episode seven 'A King's Ransom.' Warning, contains the aftermath of a miscarriage.

SONGS OF SORROW

Athelstan heard of it when the other servants whispered fervently together, worry and sadness clear on their faces. Something dreadful rolled in his stomach when he saw the blood staining their hands and clothes. A girl with fair hair twisted into a braid spilled over with words as though compelled to speak them.

"The child is lost."

Not Bjorn or Gyda, Athelstan had seen them only a few moments before, practising with wooden swords and shields. Athelstan closed his eyes, the full weight of the girl's words hitting him so strongly that he almost stumbled. He was filled with so much - sorrow for Lagertha and Ragnar, retching worry at the thought of Lagertha bleeding so, something close to anger, to why, Lord God, why? What lesson does this teach? Why?

He stood alone for some time, a fist pressed to a slatted wall, his thoughts churning. He had been taught that the Lord held all answers and that his place was not to question but to obey God's commands, that what the Lord wished to be clear would be clear. Well, Athelstan had hoarded many observations recently; that Ragnar had torn him from his peaceful life, that the warrior and his people had killed many who Athelstan had cared for, but it was also clear that both Ragnar and Lagertha treated him better than many here would have, that he was welcome in their family when they could have cast him aside once Ragnar had become earl and so had gained many willing to serve him.

It was clear that Athelstan cared greatly for pillagers and murderers, that perhaps the Lord had placed him here for such a reason, that…

That someone should tell Bjorn and Gyda. Athelstan righted himself and trudged to where he had last seen the children. Bjorn was now fighting thin air as Gyda sorted through pebbles as though setting up a game. She glanced up with a welcoming smile and an offer to teach Athelstan until she saw the heaviness in his face, the anguished questions circling him.

He did not know how he found the order of words to tell them, but he did.

Bjorn's fury split the air and he took off running. Gyda clung to Athelstan, walking as though greatly weighed down until they reached Lagertha and Ragnar's chamber. Bjorn was hovering close to the bed, to where Lagertha lay, damp with sweat and wrung-out with spent exertion and something heavier beneath her pale skin. She was trying to smile reassuringly for her children and Athelstan should have thought more, he should have waited until Lagertha had rested before bringing forth her clambering terrified offspring, a vivid painful reminder of the fact that she no longer carried another to add to their number. But the thought of Bjorn and Gyda hearing the wrong words and believing even worse had occurred had spurred him onward.

He concentrated on the press of Gyda beside him and how Lagthera breathed and did not stop. He did not realise that he was staring and Lagertha did not mock him. Instead she smiled worn tired gratitude and called Gyda forward with a faint flickering of her hand. Athelstan felt adrift, burning with questions and hopelessness. He thought he might fall.

There was movement at his side - Siggy, pale and stained. She did not look at him, her eyes seeking something, some answer, beyond the horizon. Athelstan forced himself to move.

"You must rest," he spoke softly, not wishing to disturb the comfort that Lagertha was finding in the presence of her children.

As he guided Siggy to a chair, Athelstan could feel something cracking beyond his skin. He glanced at Lagertha, at Gyda stroking her mother's arm, babbling 'I should have worried for you!' and Bjorn's murderous silence, sitting close to Lagertha, wanting to slay whatever had brought her such pain, just as Ragnar would have done.

A terrible thought gripped Athelstan, his whole body swaying in response – was this the answer to his prayers? Was God punishing those who had killed the brothers and stolen from the monastery? Athlestan had prayed nightly for God's deliverance and justice when he had first arrived, numb with grief and fear. Was this how the Lord had chosen to answer?

Was this Athelstan's fault?

He left, sure that he would not be missed, and walked until he reached the shore. He had looked out across the grey water so many times before, wishing for a Lindisfarne that didn't exist anymore, gutted by those that he now often thought of as family. Family. God had given him to these people and he had brought them the deepest kind of pain.

His prayers were fervent and choked with silent tears.

They are not good Christians, oh Lord. Has their child suffered for their sins? Is this how You have answered my prayers? I make different prayers now, how will You answer those? How am I to do Your will here? Oh, God…

Someone was approaching. Athelstan opened his eyes and saw Siggy, composed now and clean.

"She asks for you."

Athelstan swallowed and followed Siggy back. The house seemed hushed and Siggy departed when they reached Lagertha's door. Athelstan's stomach felt overturned, his limbs weighted, but he forced himself forward.

Gyda was curled up at Lagertha's back while Bjorn lay at their feet, his sword nearby. Athelstan walked carefully, not wanting to wake the sleeping children. Lagertha was already awake though and smiled faintly when Athelstan reached her bed. Wordlessly, she held out a hand. Athelstan stared, his questions still swirling, his heart beating fast.

Perhaps Lagertha did not realise what was showing through in her expression or perhaps she intended for Athelstan to see the sharpness of her pain. "Come and join us, priest."

Athelstan's eyes widened, but he could see that the offer was not the same as before, even if the words were. Lagertha wanted company, she could have asked Siggy or many others, but she had chosen Athelstan. It was a mark of trust and affection and Athelstan's heart warmed in response.

More than anything, he wanted to help bear her burden. His hand slid into hers.

Perhaps one of his questions was being answered after all.

-the end