Author's note: Oh to be young and pagan. I do love Denmark so much, but history hasn't given him easy relations with the other Nords for very long and he's such a contrast to Su and Nor. I think this chapter really lays out how, in my headcanon, their relationships started, compared to what it becomes in the next chapter. Or next 1000 years.

I tried my best to research northern thoughts on sex at the time but couldn't find much (plus my computer hates the things I research at this point, you have no idea what I now know), so I wrote the best I could to how beloved Sweden would have thought of sex between men. Whole changing world and all, you know. I state this only so you remember that his thoughts make sense in the historical period. Clearly he'll think different things later on. ;D

Also learned lots and lots about the Scandinavian countries circa 1000 CE so if you're interested as to an illusion made here let me know and I'll reply with some specifics. More unions were found to write about! I cannot friggin wait! And fyi from this point on Norway shows up whenever he wants because he can. And because he's fun to write.

Five Loves for Berwald Oxenstierna

2. Ketill of Danmǫrk

In an effort to keep power his ætt had told the new king of Björn's seeming immortality. While his secret was revealed against his will, the Swede had gone willingly on this last voyage, knowing it would help his clan to continue to prosper. And Olof Skötkonung, the first king of Svealand and Götaland, had treated him fair enough. When he had suggested the trip his reasoning was sound and so the immortal bear, who had never left his beloved Mälaren Valley for longer than two years, found himself now in his fourth year in this foreign land.

Here Sweyn, king of the Danes, had introduced him to his own immortal, a young and lively Viking by the name of Ketill. Some days Björn appreciates the company, the camaraderie that comes from being two fixed points in a world of death and destruction. Other days he wants to kill the annoying man.

But on days like these, spent sitting by the harbor, the sun warm as the summer presses on, Björn is content with his companion. Well, maybe more than content as Ketill leans into him, Björn shifting to wrap one arm around the slightly-smaller man's shoulders. The sun isn't the only thing warming him.

"They say we will go to battle," Ketill comments. Björn grunts in response, too tired to try and say much. "Against those who try to unite in the north. My king says yours will fight with us. Will you fight with me?"

"Of course." Björn has never been one to shy from battle.

Blue eyes look up at him, and after a while he can no longer ignore them, looking down at the Dane who is now smiling stupidly at him. "Björn," he murmurs, and there's something there that Björn both wants and despises.

Trying desperately to find something to say, afraid of why his heart is beating so fast, the Swede says, "I hear they have an immortal as well, in Nóregr. Do you know of him?" Here, in the Danes' land, they have their theories as to why people like Björn and Ketill never age. They have part of the answer, more than his family has ever found, but the question is still there for him.

"I have seen him," Ketill murmurs, his head under Björn's chin, "at a distance. He is very beautiful, like a woman. I would like very much for him to be my property, such a pretty thing. I would never tire of him."

Björn's mouth betrays his heart, the Swede asking, "Do you want him, more than you want me?" Ketill sits up at that, his face changing to one of concern and seriousness. He strokes the side of his fellow warrior's face, fingers lingering, before wrapping his arms about Björn's chest. Björn can do nothing but reciprocate, his arms around his sole friend's shoulders, inhaling deeply the smell of his Danish hair. Having already said too much he sees no harm in continuing. "I do not want you to want him more than me. Please don't tire of me."

They are both physical beings, and though perhaps Ketill could have found words to soothe Björn's worries, his actual actions suffice: their eyes are locked on each other's until the last moment, when their lips meet, muscles moving together. Then they meet again, something growing in their eagerness, Ketill's arms removing themselves from around that torso to instead run his hands up and down it. Björn pulls him even closer, tilting the Dane's head back for better access to that mouth that is warm and inviting and it's been too long for Björn to deny himself this any more, not when Ketill too is immortal.

Both men are breathless, watching the other pant, when they break the kiss. Ketill smiles, speaking first. "Stay with me tonight?"

Against his chest Ketill's back shifts. Their chemises are forgotten somewhere on the floor, just as they are most nights in their fits of passion and kisses and bare skin to explore.

Not that they've ever- and Björn pushes the thought away. No, they've never done that. They're men, and though they kiss and touch and lick and rub, they've never done that, because he loves Ketill too much. Sometimes he can tell the Dane wants to try, because he's never done it with a man; most of those times the Dane is drunk. Björn knows a sober Ketill would never want to be the receiving partner, that they are both too dominant and that to finally consummate whatever it is they have would mean one of them is dominant and one is submissive. Björn has no intention of being the submissive partner; were they to, hmm, have sex, he is aware that he would probably win the dominant role. But that would mean Ketill would be the submissive partner and he just can't do that. Something in him, the ideals he's attached to his strong Danish immortal, hold him back from that.

Because they are equals.

And he loves Ketill.

And he knows he would not be gentle with a man like this.

The alcohol is flowing once more, a harsh storm raging outside. Ketill is, unsurprisingly, drunk off his ass as he lays on his bed. While he continuously rolls off it, hitting the floor with a loud thump, Björn had figured it is still better than having him be the one lounging on the fur before the fireplace. No point letting the Dane light himself on fire. Again.

"You!" Ketill shouts, slurring his Norse. "You!" he shouts again, pointing at Björn who smiles lopsidedly, deciding to play along.

"Me? What about me?"

"You! You are-" and he hiccups before finishing with some vague gesture that involves sliding his hand down his chest, under his pants, to grab his cock before falling off the bed and slapping his ass suggestively.

"Am I?" Björn replies lazily. This is both amusing and normal, a perfect example of what any given day spent with his Danish love is like.

"But you! You won't fuck me Björn! Why won't you fuck me?"

"Because," he starts slowly, the sight of Ketill crawling on hands and knees to him stiffening his cock, "you are drunk. And I am not that cruel."

"Want you!" and he grabs the front of Björn's shirt haphazardly, pulling the Swede down with him to tangle their limbs together before the roaring fire, lips and teeth gnashing and fighting before Björn finds himself on top, looking down at his Ketill. He strokes the side of his face lovingly.

"Perhaps it is time for bed?"

"No!" the Dane shouts. "I am the king, I do not go to bed!"

"You are the king?" he teases, his lips falling to Ketill's ear as he rubs their groins together. "What are you king of? Tell me, for I want to be your subject."

The man beneath him laughs, his whole body shaking with the beautiful sound, before he kisses the Swede passionately. "I am king of the immortal beings! I can have any being I want!"

"And which do you want now?" Ketill's face betrays his sudden confusion at being asked a question before changing, pleasingly, to one of sexual desire.

"You. Only you. I want you Björn."

Their lips meet in another crushing kiss, Björn pressing down onto the man beneath him because he knows he can take the weight, likes the friction it creates when the Dane thrusts up against him. He tastes like alcohol, smells like it too, and it's a scent that now always reminds Björn of his first immortal love.

Which tends to remind him of his first mortal love.

Ketill's eyes are closed, his mouth open, but Björn's heart just isn't in it anymore as his mind drifts back to those earlier days. The moment is lost.

"Not tonight Ketill," Björn sighs, kissing at his lover's neck before making to stand to help them both return to the large bed.

Eyes snap up to look at him and maybe Ketill's not as drunk as he thought he was. "Why? You always do this, I want to know why!" The Swede is about to ask what he means when he sits up, Ketill's face hardening as he continues. "Who was he? Huh? You still love him, I know you do! What did he do that I do not? I bet you never loved him the way you love me! I am better than all the other-"

That's when something in Björn snaps, the Swede launching himself at the Dane who puts up a good fight but is simply not as strong or large as the angered immortal. Björn's done playing nice, done listening to Ketill blabber on as if he knows what it's like to still love someone who died two hundred years ago. Ketill doesn't love anyone but himself, no matter what Björn's tried to convince himself. Ketill will always love himself the most, and Björn hates him because he loves him despite that selfishness. He loves Ketill for Ketill, but the stupid fucking Dane cannot just love Björn for Björn.

Large hands flip the man, yanking down his pants. He tries to escape those hands but Björn's lost it, his grip tight as he frees himself from his own pants. "You want sex?" he growls, low, leaning over Ketill's back to whisper in his ear. The Dane stills, nodding, and he notices that he's holding his breath beneath the Swedish body holding him captive, pressing into it. "Fine. Learn to shut up Ketill."

You don't know anything, his head screams over and over as he pounds into the Dane who does nothing to resist, whimpering and moaning beneath him. It's nothing like the love he used to make with Unna, slow and gentle and loving. Björn takes and takes, not caring what Ketill is feeling, his head screaming over and over that it's all Björn's fault, he should have done something more, he could have saved her. You don't know anything Ketill! You don't know anything!

In the morning there is nothing but regret and an empty bed, the fire having gone out. Björn's never wanted so much to crawl into the harsh snow and die, except maybe for the day he lost Unna.

The next night Björn returns to his own room, not wanting to intrude on Ketill. He does not seek out the one he was once so gentle with, instead silently berating himself in the dark of night. He shouldn't have done that, he shouldn't have lost control. He is not an animal, Ketill did not deserve that. It was his first time, Björn knew it was his first time, and he paid Ketill no attention. Didn't prepare him. Didn't bother to notice if he came.

As September comes they set off for battle, Björn trying desperately to avoid contact with Ketill. He's sure the Dane is doing this on purpose, trying to fill him with more guilt, by standing closer and closer to him, shouting to him. Can't he see what the Swede is going through without his added taunts and jeers? He just wants to be forgotten, lost in time, like the woman he had once loved so much.

When he comes to it takes several minutes to figure out where he is, his last memory having been killing the man he had been fighting in hand-to-hand combat on an enemy's ship. The room becomes familiar as he blinks; Ketill's room, and he's in his bed. But the small man leaning over him, tending him, is unfamiliar. He's pale and blonde and wearing a face of utter disgust and contempt, wiping at Björn's face with a cloth.

"Who-" Björn starts, but then a voice rings out from beside the crackling fire.

"Finally come back to join us?" Ketill jokes lightly. "Took you long enough Swede." At the word the new man both flinches and sneers.

"Ketill?" Björn manages, realizing how dry his throat is. "What happened?"

"Well," the Dane starts joyously, bounding over to sit beside Björn. The third man moves, going to sit on the floor and stare at the wall. "When you finished killing that man during the battle, you were shot in the head with an arrow, and then someone stabbed you from behind. It was quite impressive." His eyes are happy, playful. Immediately it makes Björn feel all his guilt again for what he did to the jovial man. Seeming to sense this, the Dane swallows and smiles sheepishly. "Björn," he whispers, leaning down so that their faces are next to each other, "stop. That night, it was not your fault. You did nothing wrong."

"Yes I did."

"No," then he leans down and kisses the Swede more gently than he deserves, holding the side of his face as he deepens the kiss, beginning to pant. "I riled you up, I knew what I was doing. You need to forgive yourself, because I miss you. I love you," he whispers low into Björn's ear, and something in his chest tightens in response to those words and the truth in them. He's never said it to Björn before.

"I love you too," is all he can manage in response, winning another kiss.

"Good, because now we have a new play thing!" Ketill settles in, moving over Björn's body to lay beside him. "Is he not as beautiful as I told you he was? And now he is all ours dearest, Swedish Björn."

Björn lets his head fall to the side, Danish kisses warming his neck. The man is small, much smaller than Ketill and Björn, but now he can see it, something about him that says he is immortal. His hair is lighter than theirs, his eyes darker. His skin is like snow, seemingly unknown to the sun that gives them life. He's eyeing them suspiciously, his face blank, but Björn can tell there's fear underlying his expression, along with something else. It somehow excites Björn.

"So beautiful," he murmurs in agreement, Ketill's hands on his chest.

Now this new religion is spreading farther than it ever has in their land, with more converts each day. Björn puts little stock in it, feeling nothing but contempt as he watches the procession before him. "Are you one of them?" he grunts, watching Christians make their way to church. Such stupid people.

"Yes," the Norwegian replies. For years he has only given one word replies to the Swede, though it's still better than the silence he only ever gives the Dane.

"And is your new god better than the old ones?" He lets his head roll to one side, lazily eyeing the man sitting beside him. He'd like to think that he treats the prisoner better than Ketill does. Ketill takes what he wants greedily from the Norwegian, and though Björn tells him to stop it is only ever done half-heartily; it's quite impossible to stop Ketill once he gets an idea in that thick skull of his. But Björn has never done those things to the Norwegian because something about him draws the Swede to him, something he can almost relate to.

"Yes." Indigo eyes are still trained forward.

"You have a new name then?"

"Yes."

"What was your old one?"

The man blinks, looking down at his hands, before up at Björn curiously. He does this, every once and a while, betrays some emotion in his face. But only for Björn, he's noticed, only the Swede gets to see any expression. Slowly, as if trying to recall something long forgotten, he whispers, "Leifr."

"And your new one?"

At that there is no hesitation. "Lukas."

Björn looks out over the harsh landscape, the sea so close, the smell of salt water filling his nostrils. He considers the two names, rolling them around in his mind, before making his decision. "Lukas is a much better name."

"Is it?" Immediately the Norwegian looks away as if disgusted with himself. Those were two words, the longest response he has ever given.

"Yes," Björn murmurs, not wanting to tease the man for his slip-up. "Lukas is a beautiful name for a beautiful man, like you. It suits you more."

Their eyes meet, lock in some silent battle for a long time. Then the one named Lukas leans up, his hands resting on one of Björn's thighs as his face draws close to Björn's. A wave crashes against the nearby cliffs.

"Do you know what my new god does to men like you?"

"Pagans?" Björn quips, leaning down to call the man's bluff. But Lukas only scoffs, his eyes narrowing in frustration, and Björn's mind turns to find the correct answer if that is not what he had meant by his question. "What do you-"

"Ask him," Lukas says. "Ask your precious Ketill. He knows now."

Their naked bodies lay together under a blanket, soft fur beneath them, the fire roaring beside them. Ketill's breathing is slowing down as he drifts to sleep, but Lukas's words will not stop ringing in Björn's mind. There was something more to them, something Björn didn't miss, that second meaning.

"What does the Christian god do to men like us Ketill?" Sleepily the Dane turns over in his arms, bringing them face to face. Shadows play across his body as Björn takes in the sight, his heart beating quickly in love and lust.

Ketill sneers for a moment before asking, "What did Lukas say?"

It's almost like confirmation of what Björn had been dreading. "So you are one of them? You are Christian now?" How could he have not noticed?

"Not yet," Ketill whispers. "But soon, yes." His expression is hard to read at that, though his tone is almost daring. He should have seen it coming.

There's a few minutes of silence before Björn asks, "Will you change your name too Ketill? Will you no longer be mine?" In his curiosity Björn had gone to the church, reading what scripture the priest there had had. He had known the answer to the question before he'd asked, knew Lukas had meant that they were sodomites. It made him hate this new religion more, because what he feels for Ketill is surely the purest, most perfect thing there is. How could it be wrong?

There's a soft smile, Danish lips stealing his for a moment, before Ketill answers his questions. "Yes I will change my name, but I will still be your Dane Björn. I will forever be your Dane, forever your Christian. Forever yours," and he punctuates those two words with a kiss each.

"Forever mine," Björn growls, rolling them over to feed their lust. Ketill meets him willingly as they let the night consume them.

He couldn't bring himself to leave his homeland to watch Ketill be baptized. Instead news came in a letter written by his former lover that Björn can no longer pass each night with, a sea between their countries. Christen, the letter says his new name is, because he had promised to be his Christian.

They had promised each other forever.