Work Text:
"You had your scrolls, ink and feather. You had food and a soft warm bed. The king was your," Ragnar paused. His voice fairly dripped with disdain when he finished. "Your friend. Why did you leave?”
Athelstan took his arm. “I lived for those things, yes. I love ink and quill and the dust of ancient people. In a way, I love Ecbert, too.”
Ragnar pulled free and made to walk away, but Athelstan threw himself at his back. He circled the man’s neck and pressed his face into the marked skin behind Ragnar’s ear. "I left those things because I lived for them, but with you, Ragnar," he pressed a kiss there, on the eye of the raven, "I am alive.”
Ragnar froze.
"I would trade all the treasures of Rome and England, all the works of pagan and Christian scholars alike, for even the briefest moments with you."
For a moment, Athelstan feared he had said too much. Or not enough. Would it ever be enough?
But then Ragnar turned in his hold and clutched him close. “You have gone mad!” he said, his lips moving over temple to jaw to throat.
Athelstan opened his mouth to laugh and found his joy tasted, breathed, swallowed by Ragnar. It only lasted a moment for Ragnar pulled away. “You told me once that without the word of your god there was only darkness. Will you stay with me, even in the dark?”
"I read the words of a man named Plato, an ancient philosopher much admired by King Ecbert. He bade me copy them many times and I can recall them very easily," Athelstan answered. He gazed into Ragnar’s eyes. "He whom love touches not walks in darkness.”
Ragnar stroked his cheek.
"I would walk with you, Ragnar. If you will let me."