This is the love story between Ragnar Lathbrok and Athelstan, from the History Channels: Vikings: it seems obvious that there is more to these two men's relationship then the show portrays. This is my version hope you like it, BEWARE M/M sex, 18 and older, characters are not my own and blah blah blah, I made all this shit up. This is a re-write of previous work.

Chapter One

Athelstan

God, faith, sacrifice, servitude. Those were the words I repeated in my head in times of need, reminding myself over and over when I would get bored or restless with this simple life. Please do not think of me badly, I was a good priest. My faith was strong, I believed; the books and scrolls all told the story. Why would anyone ever bother writing all these things down if they were not the truth and ment for us to follow; to live our life as best we could in their image.

Within the folds of the monastery, I could live in peace. Not be harassed by the populous. I felt safe within the monastery walls; I was naïve. My world as I knew it was soon to be shattered, everything I thought was true would be tested; my faith, my loyalty, my identity.

I was just nineteen when the Vikings came to my monastery. They killed everyone I knew; men I had spent over two years with, praying, eating, living together, my mentors and friends. Slaughtered them as I watched, I cannot even think of it now, my heart clenches with grief and guilt. Why was I was spared? The horror of what I had witnessed only moments ago; flashing before me when I would blink. Who were these men? What will they want from me? I am a no-body, a monk of no particular interest. These people did not understand: they would get nothing from using me. I was unimportant.

I huddled in a corner, clutching my bible as the savages upturned tables, ripping the tapestry off the walls. I close my eyes and mumble prayer after prayer, chanting to keep myself from screaming. I am yanked out of my trance by my hair and thrown into the middle of the room. I land on my back, looking up at a circle of savages, my fellow brothers blood splattered across their faces and bodies.

"We should kill them all, they are weak men." I hear as a huge man lifts me off the ground by my hair. My legs are sliding on the floor frantically trying to make it to my knees. I hold on to his forearm with both hands trying to release the tension in my scalp. He shakes my head violently lifting me farther up off the ground just enough to tuck my knees in. I still myself; kneeling at his legs with my head bowed; waiting to die, wanting to die; join my brotherhood in the afterlife.

"I think he may be useful." I hear one say and look up to see who said it. Why would he think I would be useful? He stares at me, his brilliant blue eyes boring into me. He was unlike any man I have ever seen. His body was pure muscle, his chest and arms looked like they were made out of rock. He wore his hair in a rope down the middle of his head. All other hair shaved off clean, like the top of my own head. He had markings on the skin of his head and neck, he looked like a savage. He could kill me with one blow.

"Do you understand our language?" He questions as he squats down and moves towards me till he was squatting eye level to me. I shake my head No and he begins to laugh. A great howl came from him, scaring me back and onto my butt as I am released from the others grasp. They both stare down at me as I grasp what I had done by nodding, he knew I understood.

"Oh he will be very useful." They both nod and stare down at me.

Ragnar

I spare the boy with the dark curls and the blue eyes, he is called Athelstan. He had skin that looked as if it never seen the sun, what kind of man stays indoors? He wore his hair in a strange manner, he looked silly. I tug on one of his curls and he tucks himself away like a rabbit. How strange these men were in their women's clothing. Maybe he is a woman? He had skin like a woman, hands. I grab his ankles and pull him closer to me, wrapping my arm around him as we ride the waves. I reach under his dress and feel between his legs. Ah he was a man; a very pretty man. I stare into his eyes as I fondle him, my face so close our noses would touch with the rocking of the ship. He does not fight me but I can hear his rapid breathing, I feel it on my face. I reach between his legs and rub my finger on where I would enter him. He gasps and I kiss him, eating his mouth like meat. It had been a long time at sea, I could take him quick and hard, right here in front of my crew. I look up at them and see them all staring back at me, watching me, hunger in their eyes. It had been a long trip for us all. If I fucked the priest I would have to let all the men fuck him. I look down at him and see the questioning look on his face. He was a smart man, he could read the tension of the men, see their stares. I think the gods have led me to him, I think I wanted to keep him all to myself.

"Let us drink to our conquest!" I yell over the shouts of my men as I jump up from the priest, leaving him to huddle alone. He would be useful; he spoke our language and knew our enemy. Yes, I wanted to keep him all to myself.