deep breath, deep breath
haha I can't not write Cellach angst. I was going for pure familial fluff and then this happened.
This is kind of covering for the times that I said that Brendan was gone for only a decade.
Sorry for being so slow on this and on Wolf Ascending. I'm working on something else that's taking longer than I predicted…
Secret of Kells © Cartoon Saloon
You pride yourself on being calm (it's a miracle that you came out so well, with the decidedly less-than-calm Aidan being your mentor for so long) but you wonder if you'd been too calm. It isn't every day you come across someone you thought dead for…
…has it really been eighteen years? Yes. Yes, it has. You were only twelve when you were forced to flee.
It hasn't really hit you yet. That you're back. You can't quite consider it home, though—you've lived with Aidan in the house-scriptorium by the ocean for so long, and everything in Kells has changed. From the people—so few left!—to the jagged remnants of the wall.
"Brendan…"
You turn from the window and glance at your uncle, but stop yourself from speaking. He's still asleep. (You should be asleep, you haven't slept in nearly two days…)
He's curled up under the blanket, shivering. It isn't particularly cold, especially for late spring.
"Brendan," he calls out again. You know he's having a nightmare, but you find yourself frozen. You know you should wake him up, reassure him, because he's crying, he's crying for you. He's begging for you to come back, that he's sorry, that it's all his fault, and his grip hasn't loosened on that paper.
It's horrifying an a whole different level than what you're used to. Simply thinking of his body on the snowy ground wasn't this awful, because at least then, you once thought, his soul is resting in the kingdom of heaven.
But this—he's…he's so broken. Even when you'd wandered the land, showing the Book to the many victims of the Viking's attacks, you seldom saw a soul this shattered.
He isn't speaking anymore, but he's still crying silently.
It's clear the long years have been an unending nightmare, a living hell.
You press your hand to his shoulder.
His eyes take a few long seconds to open, and he flinches when he sees you. The tiny movement is unexpectedly painful.
He looks lost and terrified and exhilarated all at once. (A tiny part of you wonders if that's what you looked like the first time you went into the forest.)
He says your name again, or tries to—either his voice or your ears fail, you can't tell. Outwardly you're composed as you've ever been, but you don't know what to do next.
The Abbot gingerly reaches over and grips your arm.
'Are you really here?' he whispers, or maybe you just think it. He's still lying on his side, and even though you see that he can still tower over you he looks so tiny and so old… you feel like he's going to fall apart right in front of you.
He's silent—waiting for you to do something.
Are you really there?
Very gently, you wrap your hands around his.
Your voice is soft, but it shatters the silence all the same.
"I'm here." He tightens his grip on your shoulder.
"…I'm so tired…" he whispers.
"I know. I'm here, Uncle. Rest. I won't leave…I promise."