Olivier de Bretagne

"Tomight, she has us," Ragnar says. "She can chew my fingers if her gums hurt."

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"Or our clothing, if she chooses. Whatever makes her feel better."

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"She has a toy horse she likes to chew on." Ermina explains, rising to help them with her. "I can fetch it for you." She gestures at the stairs, ready to go up if they are.

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Ragnar stands, with little Mary still asleep in his arms, shifting the child expertly as he moves.

"I am ready," he says.

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Athelstan sets his knife on his empty plate and stands in turn.

"So am I."

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Olivier leads them upstairs, Mary happily asleep in Ragnar's arms. The room they stayed in last time is ready for them - the bed spread with thick furs and a fire warm in the hearth. A cosy room and a welcoming one.

Ermina joins them a moment later, carrying a soft wool blanket and a little wooden horse rubbed with oil of cloves for her to teat on.

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Ragnar sits on the bet, and tries to kick off his boots without wiggling too much, or using his hands. He doesn't want to wake Mary, after all.

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Athelstan gives him a wry look and comes over to pull them off.

"You'll get nowhere like that."

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Ermina moves to help but realises she will only be in the way.

"I cannot thank you enough, both of you." She kisses their cheeks in turn. "We will be at the end of the hall, should you need us."

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"Thanks," Ragnar says, looking at Athelstan pulling off his boots. "This is a bit awkward without hands."

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"And putting her down might be enough to wake her. I know."

He squeezes Ermina's hand before she leaves.

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"Thank you, my brothers." Olivier says in painfully honest tones. "Thank you."

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"It's no trouble," Ragnar says, lying down with the sleeping little girl in his arms once his boots are gone.

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"Yes. It will be a pleasure to have her here."

Even if she wakes up, because they haven't dealt with it night after night for months.

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Olivier gives them a warm smile and a bow, drawing the door closed and leaving them to it.

{ooc: feel free to tag between you for a bit.}

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"Come here," Ragnar says to Athelstan. "And bring some furs. We should sleep while we can."

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Athelstan nods, studying Mary's face until he's satisfied she's sleeping peacefully.

"It may be a few hours."

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"Or the whole night. Or just some minutes," Ragnar says. "Teeth are nasty that way, and they hurt while they grow."

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"And at Mary's age, children still think their parents can make everything be all right."

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"And parents try and do it, if they can," Ragnar says. "And we'll do our best tonight, too."

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He nods, lying down on the other side of Mary, so she has a presence on either side of her.

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Ragnar reaches out to touch Athelstan's hand, encompassing the little girl between them.

Warm and snug and safe.

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He allows the touch, innocent as it is, and turns his hand to receive it.

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Ragnar murmurs something very incoherent, entwines just two of their fingers each, and finally starts snoring very, very softly.

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