athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

"I'd never allow anyone to drive you away," Ragnar says. "But it would make things increasingly hard, and not in a good way."

"I know. So we keep being careful, and my love for you grows every hour." He drops his head to rest on Ragnar's shoulder. "There are passages in the Bible about it."

"About love between people, not just that of your god?" Ragnar says.

"Yes. It's said to be the greatest virtue. It's in the writings of Saint Paul, one of the fathers of the church, that in the end, three things will endure - faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love."

"And that's for people among each other?" Ragnar says.

He shifts a little on the bracken, and tangles their legs. With his bare foot, he touches Athelstan's.

"Yes. It doesn't mean only lovers, though of course it can." He presses his foot against Ragnar's. "The point is that love, real love - well, as you said, that glow doesn't go away."

Closing his eyes for a moment, he recites from memory a much-loved passage.

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

"Only love makes us people," Ragnar muses, after listening raptly to what Athelstan had been quoting. "You god is wise, for saying such a thing."

He's not going to point out the irony that the worshippers of that god disapprove of all fleshly love so much; from what he remembers of the magic place, that was 'strictly historical circumstances' or some such thing.

"That was from a letter written by one of our saints. But I do believe that though he was a mortal man, at least on that occasion, he heard the voice of God and set it down rightly."

"Were there moments when he was wrong, as a mortal man, and your traditions know about that?" Ragnar asks.

"Oh yes. No mortal man is perfect, and he didn't even come to God until quite late in life."

"But he wrote very beautifully about love," Ragnar says, pulling Athelstan closer and leaning in for a kiss.

"He did." Athelstan kisses him back. "It's perhaps my favourite chapter."

"It is lovely poetry, as beautiful as anything we quote from the Eddas," Ragnar says.

"And it's at the heart of the Christian faith, though you may have seen things to make you doubt that."

Edited 2015-05-31 19:16 (UTC)

"So your Christianity and our love don't contradict each other, just as the priest at the magic place said," Ragnar muses. "We can lie here in the sunshine, and no gods, neither yours nor mine, will strike us down. Mine don't mind anyway."

"If anyone would strike me down", Athelstan says softly, "it's other Christians. And none of them are here."

Ragnar leans in and kisses him. "They'd strike me down as well," he says.

Which none of the Vikings wouldn't even think of, even though they'd readily insult or disrespect Athelstan as ergi.

"They would." He moves over into Ragnar's arms. "But here I'm safe with you."

"Then let us show the sun and the birds and any gods that want to watch just how much we love each other, and what great pleasure we take in being alive together in wide, green Midgard," Ragnar murmurs, starting to pull at Athelstan's shirt.

"Yes", Athelstan says simply, and shifts to let Ragnar loosen and remove his shirt. "This time, we can take all the time we like."

Ragnar undoes Athelstan's belt, then takes off the shirt. He tumbles them over in the bracken to kiss Athelstan's chest and run his hands all over it.

"You know," he pretend-muses, "there's this little thing we tend to neglect far too much most of the time..."

"Is there?" Athelstan asks, eyes wide in mock-innocence as he moves under Ragnar's hands. "And what might that be?"

Reaching Athelstan's lower belly, Ragnar slides his hand into Athelstan's trousers. "I think I found it!" he declares, rough callused fingers sliding along the sensitive flesh of Athelstan's prick, almost teasingly, as if checking for a reaction.

That gets an exaggerated pout, that's quickly disrupted by that reaction.

"...did you - ah! - did you just call it little?"

"It's smaller than mine!" Ragnar says, stroking it in order to get more reactions.