Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set after episode 2x09. The fic's title is also the title of a Christian worship song by Brian Doerksen.

EVERLASTING TO EVERLASTING

Aslaug was regal and strong in the presence of her husband's people. She was a princess and acted accordingly. She expected her husband to heed her words because she was a völva, a soothsayer, and because she was his wife. Ragnar expected her body to be open to him, for her to mother his children. He listened to her because she saw what others did not and because a wise man listened to everyone around him before weighing his choices.

In public, it was fools who perceived her as weak, as something to be possessed, used for power and reputation. Without a man, what harm could she bring? She didn't even wield a sword. But Athelstan had met Princess Kwenthrith of Mercia who had murdered her own brother and he knew Aslaug, daughter of a dragon slayer, wife of a great jarl, mother of great sons, weaver and völva. Athelstan was no fool.

So in the privacy of their chambers, he anointed the tenderness of her chest with soft kisses. He lay her back and gazed in adoration at the fine shape of her eyes, the pleasing lines of her body, the unique and gifted spirit that occupied them. He was always silent with disbelief and awe because he was not only permitted to do such things but encouraged.

He kissed her mouth with reverence, then her graceful neck. He was sweet between her legs, fingers and mouth worshipping her, bringing pleasure and no other demands. Lagertha did the same for her and Athelstan felt and heard Aslaug's answering shudders. Between him and Lagertha, Aslaug relaxed, knowing that there were no threads to hold with them, nothing to second-guess. The fact that she so obviously felt this with Athelstan made him warm from within. He pressed a kiss to her palm, he always wanted to bring her heights without the danger of a fall. He could not slay dragons, but he could do this.

Lagertha could not always be with them. She was Jarl Ingstad, beloved by her people and fiercely protective of them. She was Ragnar's equal, a fact that he didn't always fully acknowledge because he was used to things being a certain way. Aslaug treated her as a jarl, dipping her head to Lagertha with respect and affection.

Athelstan had missed Lagertha a great deal, both when she had left Kattegat and when he had been in Wessex. There was nobody quite like Lagertha, Rollo still looked at her with longing and Aslaug smiled whenever women professed to want to be like her predecessor. She wasn't offended though and agreed that Lagertha was a fine aim to strive for.

Lagertha played with Aslaug's sons and only sometimes did this seem to weigh her down. She was a woman who could no longer any man such a blessing, the gods would not allow it. She was proud of Björn of course, of Björn Ironside the man who had come through battle unscathed, the man who knew how to talk to princesses and who had fallen in love with a servant. But she still looked grey sometimes when she gazed at Aslaug's sons.

Athelstan suckled at her breast, his hunger raw. She held him with firm wanting hands. If for just one moment she laid down her burdens then Athelstan was content. She always drew pleasure out of him, restraining him until she was satisfied that he should peak. She rode him with abandon, searching out release as though long denied it. Athelstan was always mesmerised by her. She kissed him and smiled in a way that few got to witness. She was a shieldmaiden and she was a weaver, she was a jarl and she was a mother, no longer a wife. But she always returned to Kattegat, to visit Björn and her friends, to talk to the Seer, to lie with those she loved.

Ragnar was impatient and restless. He was blessed by the gods, he had many sons who the Seer foretold would be great, and he was jarl of Kattegat but he was not complacent. King Horik was now not to be fully trusted and Floki had not asked for Ragnar's blessing before marrying. There were ants burrowing under the calm surface.

Ragnar had asked Athelstan to return to Kattegat, Athelstan who had been among his people again, among Christians. Ragnar had asked, he had not demanded. He had placed a metal ring around Athelstan's wrist like a promise and he had said that they would see each other again. As much as Athelstan had enjoyed King Ecbert's company, as much as he had loved writing again and hearing the Word of God, his thoughts had never truly strayed far from Kattegat. He had seen a raven at the window and had always known, on some level, the inevitability of his path.

Ragnar had not demanded that Athelstan should renounce his Christian God, so unlike how the Christians of Wesssex had judged him and nailed him to a cross for his pagan sins. Athelstan could never forget that contrast. Ragnar wished that their gods could be friends and Athelstan wished it so too. He thought of his talks with King Ecbert, of how similar some stories could be. He still heard Thor in the thunder and God in the gentle rain, he talked to both and Ragnar did not force him to choose. Nobody did.

Aslaug curled up at the head of the bed, her thighs a pillow for Athelstan's head as Ragnar kissed his way down Athelstan's body. Ragnar's possessive satisfaction could be felt in the curl of his lips against soft skin when Athelstan confirmed that he'd lain with nobody while in Wessex. Aslaug ran her fingers through Athelstan's hair.

"Of course he didn't."

She was so sure, sharing a look with Ragnar before he oiled his fingers and began working Athelstan open. Athelstan gasped, words of praise and prayer falling from his lips. Aslaug bent to kiss and consume his words as Ragnar bit the meat of Athelstan's thigh, a selfish greedy claim. Aslaug tangled her fingers with Athelstan's, she never needed to mark him. Neither did Lagertha as Athelstan so often felt the ghost of both their touches across his ribs and mouth, most especially when Lagertha was absent from Kattegat. She would be with them again soon. Athelstan thanked gods in two different languages, he bore their names deep in his bones. Aslaug, Lagertha, and Ragnar were under his skin too, they burned and he enjoyed the flames.

-the end