silverhera
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Whether his feelings are returned or not, Ragnar will always be there.
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Right now Ragnar appeared serious, wielding his practice sword against Athelstan’s far less experienced hand. He looked serious, but Athelstan knew that was only because he was concentrating so hard on not hurting him.
Really they were playing. Playing at war. Playing at love. Playing at faith and religion. Skirting around all these things that defined people. Waiting for one of them to decide to define the other, both cautious to make the first serious move.
So instead they played.
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The day before he died, they slept together. Ragnar came to his place in the middle of the night; his eyes were wild and he faintly reeked of ale and silent rage, and for once, Athelstan did not ask questions.
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Ragnar: Viking warriorAthelstan: Christian monk
One, a man of blood and steel. The other, a man of knowledge and peace. Together, they find love in the delicate space between their different languages, different gods, and different lives.
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The smoldering fire between Ragnar and Athelstan finally explodes.