The Weight of Mercy
Anglo-Saxon Cycle — c. 430 AD
The iron did not bite like rope, it did not burn like flame. But it held him tight and boy did he fight out. As Thunorric lay upon the narrow bed, breath shallow, wrists secured in worn leather straps. Not tight enough to wound, not loose enough to escape. The restraints were not the work of enemies. They were the work of those who knew him best.
The room was quiet the quiet you hear a pin drop. A strange stillness came where there was no chains that rattled with each slight move. He saw no priests stood and whispered condemnation. No soldiers watched with hungry satisfaction. as he looked around he only saw the stone. By the dim candlelight. To his left sat his oldest brother Daegen.
He sat beside the bed. His elbows rested upon his knees. His hands were clasped before his mouth as though he alone held the fragile balance between mercy and cruelty. Thun had not truly woken. As he lay half asleep just staring into the old abyss of the stone cell he had found himself in.
His body lived. His breath endured. But his mind walked elsewhere. As he drifted the fragments slipped from him in broken murmurs. The names long buried, and memories of battles long lost. Wars of resistance against the Romans and tyrants. Brothers lost in the battle of the arena many slaves like him. The lions roar as he fought three large fierce hungry beasts. Finally the Voices belonging to the dead men he fought in arenas and pits even in wars plagued his mind.
Daegen heard them all as well each word a wound time refused to close. But as he watched his baby brother he like the others knew one thing. Thy didn’t know the true horrors the little one had grown up under. They’d catch a glimpse f the scars from whips and various other instruments designed for use on slaves. The scars of crucifixion and hangings Thunoric had been through. As the estate beyond the chamber walls stirred in uneasy silence.
Men moved along the ramparts, sharpening blades that would never be sharp enough. Refugees gathered in corners and shadow, clinging to the illusion that walls protect them from kings. But the War approached fast, like wars always did faster than anyone had time to recover. A man many called a hero lay strapped down. Thunorric was lost in his state of mind. He willingly sacrificed himself to save entire kingdoms. But at what cost?
Stall man stood about 5 feet tall. He was slim of build with black hair. He was a brother to Daegen and Thunoric. Leofric stood in the doorway, silent as winter frost.
“He asked for water,” he said quietly.
“He asked for Rome.” Daegen did not look up from his younger brothers still form
as the words settled heavily between them.
“He is not there,” Daegen replied.
Leofric said nothing.
Because both of them knew the truth, he was. His body was confined but thun’s fingers twitched. Albeit A small movement barely visible, it was a sign of hope that thunorric had started to rejoin them. Daegen leaned ahead promptly.
“Thun.”. No answer.
Only breath.
Only distance.
“I know you hear me.”
A long silence passed.
Then, broken and hoarse:
“…Don’t.” The word tore itself free from a throat that had known rope and blade and fire.
Daegen froze.
“Don’t what?”
Thun’s eyes opened. They were wrong, but not in shape and definitely not in colour. Yet, in distance, a far-off lost look in Thun’s eyes had dimmed the bright storm grey he’d always had. Both brothers looked at him as though he stood at the far end of centuries.
“…Don’t make me stay.”
“You are not well.” Daegen swallowed.
“I’ve never been well, not since the clan abandoned me and I slept against wolves.” A faint tired resigned smile touched Thun’s lips.
The candle flickered as wind pressed against the shutters, Thun’s body tensed. His muscles pulled instinctively against the restraints. The leather creaked as he pulled against it.
“Easy,” Daegen whispered.
Thun did not hear him.
“…They’re coming,” Thun murmured.
“No one is here.”
“They always come.”
Thuns hands clenched into tight fists but Daegen placed his hand over his brother’s wrist. Daegens Firm yet steady grip as if trying to root his brother in reality.
“You are safe.”
“I’ve never been safe.” Thun laughed softly but it broke halfway through.
“He is reliving it,” he said quietly.Leofric stepped closer.
“I know.” Daegen answered pain not only in his eyes but his voice
“You can’t let him leave this room.”
“I know.”
“…He will hate you.”. Leofric hesitated
Daegen closed his eyes briefly.
“I know.”
Thun’s voice came again but this time softer more like a Childs.
“…Dae.”
The name had not passed his lips in centuries.
Daegen leaned closer.
“I am here.”
“…Don’t let them take me.”. His voice trembled.
Daegen rested his hand upon his shoulder.
“I won’t.” DAaegan looked to leofric, then Thunorric. He silently swore, not this time. Not ever again. If he stopped it, he would. But Outside, a horn sounded this time Closer now. The War testing its voice, Leofric turned toward the narrow window.
“They test the walls.”
“Let them.” Daegen did not move as his gaze never left his brother. The burden his parents never knew, Thunorric was his responsibility, just like the other siblings. Thunnorric was at his mercy. As Thun’s breathing steadied slowly. He wasn’t healed. He wasn’t whole, but at least for now he was resting. Daegen remained beside him he would not leave. Not unless he had to because he understood now what he had neglected to understand before. The world would never stop trying to break Thun. So Daegen would have to become stronger than the world even if it meant becoming something his brother feared. Daegen rested his hand against Thun’s shoulder.
A promise.
A prison.
A sanctuary.
All at once.
“One day we will understand what happend to him, why he’s like this” leofric stated
“He’s a weapon, conditioned over centuries. He was forged through fire. I saw him in Rome as a gladiator. He defeated everything they put him against. I wasn’t his lanista but that man was harsh a brute. ” Ignacious spoke up looking to his brothers “it would be a merciful act if the gods allowed him to die”
“He’s not a man to the high kings, he’s a weapon now that they know he can’t die. ” Isolde said. She brushed the hair from her younger brother’s face. “My darling brother, we’ve got you. We will anchor you. I’m so sorry” she said as she heard thuns children shouting for him.
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