Chapter Text
Okay, so I need to take my mind off the finale. This will be an AU, because I can not deal.
Athelstan didn’t know when his fascination started, but it was the first time he saw the men have a friendly fight in the town-square that he came aware of it. They were warriors, and he already had a healthy amount of respect and awe for the way they moved in combat - colored with a lick of fear.
They moved with a violent grace, every strike carrying the promise of death, but that wasn’t what caught his eye; it was the signs on their skin. There were intricate knots, animals, some religious symbols even he recognized, like Thor’s hammer…
They looked stunning. The contrast of the skin and the strong, black lines almost made him believe that there was unseen power behind the designs.
Of course, Floki noticed him staring.
Athelstan had to realize early on, that there were very few things that the ship-maker didn’t notice.
“You are a learned man…” he started, sliding up to him in the crowd, “Ragnar boasted about it, how you had no other work than writing your letters and painting in your books.”
“Yes, I copied codexes and the Holy Bible,” Athelstan replied carefully, he never knew what to think of Floki.
The Norse man hummed, and didn’t talk again for a long while, though the priest noticed that his eyes kept wandering around, not paying attention to the fight. His gaze stopped at a raven sitting at the top of the Thing, it’s head was turned and Athelstan had the uncomfortable feeling that it was watching them.
Floki grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.
“You will come with me, priest.” That was all he said, and the next moment he was dragged out of the crowd, with Floki crying Helga’s name.
The woman found them fast.
“Tell Ragnar I’m taking his slave with me, and then hurry after us,” he told her. She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t object, probably well used to the man’s crazy ideas.
Maybe it was shock that sealed Athelstan’s lips, but he didn’t even think to protest.
By the time night fell, they were at the ship-maker’s house, and Floki was murmuring to himself, rummaging in a chest.
“What are you doing?” he asked him, half weary, half curious.
“Hm… If you think the seer is the only one who can have a peek at the secrets behind the things visible to man, then you’re wrong. I’m a man of many talents, priest. Now, go and chop some wood, we need to build a good fire in here.”
Athelstan did as he was told, though it took him a long time to get it done, and by the time he finished Helga caught up to them.
She just took a look at what Floki was doing - playing with bone-shards that had symbols etched into them, and mixing something in a bowl simultaneously - and gave Athelstan a smile.
“I will make you a drink, priest,” she said.
He knew something wasn’t right, but he learned enough about the heathen’s hospitality of the heathens to know that he couldn’t refuse the horn Helga offered to him. Just as he suspected, it was doctored with something, as after the first few gulps he already felt like he was swinging in time with the blood cursing in his veins.
“Maybe you should lay down,” Floki said, and he was lead to a bed of furs. He didn’t remember when he lost his shirt.
“Do you know what day is today?” the ship-maker asked him, and Athelstan felt strangely disoriented as he shook his head. He lost count of the Lord’s days long ago.
“It’s been a year since you stepped on this land,” Floki said.
Helga forced him to drink some more of that devilish concoction, then rubbed something into his stomach, just under his chest. Even though the ever growing haze covering his mind, Athelstan felt a cold touch of fear around his heart.
“Please, don’t…” His thoughts were in disarray, but he tried to make his body obey and bat her away.
Floki caught his wrists easily while Helga pushed his shoulders back to the bed.
“Tell me, priest, who do you belong to?” he asked, and his voice sounded far away.
“Ragnar Lodbrok,” Athelstan replied without thought, and somehow saying that name calmed him down.
Floki smiled above him.
“Then fear not, little man.”
***
When he woke up the next morning, he had a headache. He tried to remember what happened, but all his mind could come up with was the memory of pain a heat. Just thinking about it made him nauseous.
There were bandages around his torso, and he had the crazy thought that Floki decided to sacrifice him… He carefully pealed the cloth away, and what he found made his heart stop.
“Don’t poke at it,” Helga said from the corner, startling him bad. She came over and put the bandages back with practiced fingers, then pushed a small jar into his hand.
“Use this salve two or three times a day, and don’t scratch,” she ordered “It will take a fortnight to heal. You can go now.”
Athelstan looked at her with wide eyes.
“But… But what does it mean? What have you done to me?”
She gave him a long look.
“Nothing that didn’t need to be done. Now leave, Floki said Ragnar would be angry if you stayed away for too long.”
Athelstan made his way back to Kattegat slowly, his mind was reeling; one moment he felt grateful, horrified the next, but he was overwhelmed either way.
When he finally arrived, it was obvious that Ragnar was angry with him. The earl just took one look at his stooped frame, and ignored him for the rest if the night.
Athelstan didn’t understand what was happening, so he did everything in his power to be useful, but that just seemed to annoy his master even more and even Lagertha wasn’t far behind.
By the end of the week the situation escalated so far, that Ragnar threw a cup at his head at the feast, cutting the skin above his eyebrow.
Athelstan just stood there frozen, until Floki of all people pushed a cloth to his forehead, glaring daggers at his friend.
“Ragnar Lodbrok, I haven’t worked this hard for you to be an ignorant fool. Take your priest to your room, and ask him what you must.”
Ragnar was obviously taken aback, and Athelstan wasn’t sure that it would be wise to be alone with him right now, but when the earl stood and motioned for him to follow, he obeyed.
The room was dim and warm, and the furs on the bed so rich that they reflected the light of the fire.
“Tell me then, priest, how was your night with Floki and Helga?” he asked, his temper obviously back.
Athelstan stared at him dumbly.
“Now, come on! Don’t be shy, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, but maybe I really should know what made you say yes to them, when you refused my and Lagertha’s offer…”
“They drugged me and then Floki draw symbols into my skin,” he said bluntly.
Ragnar dropped his mead and swallowed.
“What?”
“Floki dragged me away and made me drunk on one of your hellish herbs. And then they held me down and draw…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence, because Ragnar was in front of him in two large steps, his eyes burning in the low light.
“Show me,” he ordered, and Athelstan felt himself shiver.
He gingerly lifted his shirt; the tattoo was healing nicely, but it was still sensitive to touch.
Ragnar dropped to his knees and turned him towards the fire with strong hand on his hips to better see.
Athelstan took a shaky breath at their position, but tried desperately to get his wits around him. His master seemed shocked.
“Do you know what they mean? Floki wouldn’t tell me and I was too afraid to ask anyone, not knowing what magic he carved into my skin…”
Ragnar lifted a shaky hand and traced the lines.
“This one,” he said thickly “is Odin’s cross,” he whispered, following the shape of the circle with the equal armed cross in it. “It’s the sign of my father and protector.
“These,” Ragnar counted the four runes in the corners of the cross “are the letters of my people, though they are much more than that. This one is ‘raido’ it means journey. The next is ‘laguz’ - water, that gives life to everything. Under that is ‘gebo’, it means gift and next to it is ‘berkanan’ - birch or light…”
Athelstan felt goosebumps rise on his whole body. Odin was the father of the gods, the deity Ragnar counted as his ancestor, and the runes… Ragnar, Lagertha, Gyda and Björn.
Ragnar rested his forehead against him for a second, then kissed the middle of the cross.
“It means you are ours.”
(A/N: wow this took ages… anyway, I hope you like!)