Athelstan felt a moment of visceral fear when Ragnar slammed him into the wall. It's different from the earlier time and he has very rarely if ever been the target of Ragnar's anger. Then again, he has always been on Ragnar's side like a faithful dog.
He's reeling for a moment when Ragnar is suddenly going toward the stairs but then he stumbles after him and grabs his wrist.
"Don't you dare." Whether he meant leave or go after Dodger, he's not even sure. The truth is somewhere in the middle.
He immediately pulled his hand away, his anger nearly shifted back to Athelstan, pausing and narrowing his eyes at the monk at the order.
"What? You think you can just say something like that and I should do nothing?!" His blood dripped on the floor from something, all the commotion opening up one of his cuts, though he had no idea which one, nor did he care.
He took a moment, his thoughts very obviously elsewhere for a moment and then once again turned to calmly go down the stairs.
"Is staying with me nothing?" Athelstan doesn't think before he speaks and he's following Ragnar.
"What do you hope to accomplish, Ragnar? I shouldn't have told you."
It'd been eating at him even before today and there'd been something in what he'd heard that had made it worse. But he didn't think Ragnar doing whatever was in his mind in his current state would help anyone least of all the Viking.
"From everything you have just said, you have made it sound like staying with you is the last thing you want from me right now," He says over his shoulder as he gets down the stairs and grabs his axe before heading to the front door.
Having to grab his axe ended up putting Athelstan, as he came down the stairs after him, between himself and the door, forcing him to stop and actually face the monk.
"If nothing else, he will not be drugging anyone else. Move, Athelstan."
"What did I say that would make you think that?" Athelstan is genuinely perplexed. There's more hesitation in Athelstan's movements, still remembering being shoved into the wall. Had that been but that had nothing to do with what he would want.
"He didn't force me to drink it. He didn't force me to do anything, Ragnar," it's true and at the same time there's still the part of him that is bothered by it all, bothered by Dodger. "Isn't it just as much my fault? Ragnar, please..." he needs him to stay but the words are caught. Ragnar's angry at him already and now he's really made the situation worse for everyone.
"Then why... bring it up at all?" He glared at Athelstan, tried to, but he found his eyes stinging annoying. It made him angry all over again. How dare any other emotion try to creep its way in aside from anger.
Honestly, he just felt tired. Drained. Done. Between Ivar, Athelstan and Dodger today, he was just done.
He was silent, the muscle on his jaw flexing visibly.
"Fine," He suddenly looked as tired and worn out as he felt. Setting the axe down, he brushed past Athelstan, going back up the stairs without a word.
Athelstan felt immensely guilty then, more than he had before. He could barely be relieved that Ragnar relented. He followed him once more. He's always following him but before he got too far when they got up the stairs he grabs his arm, holding tightly. It wouldn't be hard to force him to let go, Ragnar can easily force his arm away.
"Ragnar," his voice is soft and he's trying to focus through how handicapped his focus is with the alcohol in his system. He doesn't know how to explain that he's not okay with everything that had happened but that he also didn't think he or Ragnar had any right to blame Dodger. Athelstan should have known better. He'd been stupid and then he'd been too weak to resist temptation when it called and he's ashamed of that. And now Ragnar is ... angry and he's sad? He's bleeding and in need of a decent bathing. Athelstan is lost.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm thinking," he tries to keep his voice steady and calm but Ragnar probably knows him too well for it to work. He's sure he's being selfish, that from the moment Ragnar came home he's been selfish. The urge to tell Ragnar that he needs him is there, the words right on the tip of his tongue but he lets go of his arm instead. "I'm sorry for everything."
Athelstan and this mystery drink only further complicated this already messy situation. Athelstan's involvement at all was expected, necessary, but aggravating.
He thought he'd had things figured out, more figured out, and now it felt like he was back at the beginning. He needed to think. Alone. Athelstan was making it very obvious that he thought differently.
"Don't," He stated firmly, once again pushing out of Athelstan's grasp, prickling. His initial apology is met with another eyeroll, Ragnar looking anywhere but at Athelstan, his arms not so much crossed over his chest as hugging himself, "Then you should go back to sleep."
His second apology is met with something between a glare, confusion, and doubt.
"I do not know what you are apologizing for," He stated simply. It almost sounded like a warning, or a plea. If Athelstan had actually done something wrong, he just wanted to hear it now. The day had already been terrible, what was one more thing?
Athelstan looks at Ragnar but then he can't seem to when Ragnar wouldn't look at him. "I shouldn't have said anything about Ivar or Dodger," he says quietly. "And I should have known better about the stupid drink in the first place." Does any of this really matter? He doesn't know anymore. He wants to touch Ragnar but he's learned his lesson and he won't make him pull away again. There's more things he's sorry for but nothing that Ragnar would want to hear and nothing that is immediately relevant.
"Take your own bed," Athelstan says then, motioning toward the room they usually share but it's really Ragnar's. He pushes down the things he wants and needs just then, even drunk there's only so much rope he'll give himself.
"It does not matter," Ragnar seemed to accidentally pick up on, and voice, Athelstan's thoughts, "You must have wanted to say those things, or you would not have. So why apologize now? It is just like you Christians. You do something that you know you should not and think you can just apologize for it after. You did it. And that is it.
Maybe you are actually sorry that I took it the way I did. Perhaps you thought you would make me feel guilty. About Ivar. About Dodger. But I do not. I did what I did and there is no reason and no point in apologizing for it. It changes nothing one way or the other."
Was he even talking to Athelstan anymore? Some of what he was saying was meant for him, a lot wasn't.
He glanced towards his room, almost puzzled. He was so used to 'being in the wrong' and thus the one to be kicked out and forced to sleep on the spare straw mats that he hadn't even considered sleeping in his own bed while Athelstan took the spare.
"If you think that I had in mind to manipulate or trick you then maybe you do not know me at all," Athelstan bites out, this time he's the one that's angry but that's the only show of it. "That you can never understand the value of an apology is a weakness, Ragnar Lothbrok."
"I did not say you were manipulating me. Or tricking me. I did not say that at all! Simply, that you said exactly what you meant to," He said, now his turn to follow Athelstan as he went to the stairs, "That your apology is empty. The only thing that you are sorry for is that I am not."
It was a little ironic that he was claiming not to feel guilty, sorry or that he regretted anything when he was clearly both angry and fighting a multitude of other more painful emotions that were threatening to break through.
"Do you realize how stupid that sounds? You just asserted that I might have done so to make you feel guilty, what else would you call that?" Athelstan snapped. "I am sorry for what I said because I had no right to say any of it. But your son loves you and you don't know when to bend before you break something even if it is your own child, even if it is yourself. He is too much like you and you do not know how to deal with a mirror. It is frustrating to witness. You're never the one to deal with the wreck you make of the people who love you."
Athelstan's hands clench before he continues. "I had no right to tell you it was Dodger but you are..." he looks lost for the word. "You're my friend, who else do I have to tell what weighs on my heart? It's incredibly selfish of me, though. I regret it but I had no ulterior motive and I do not care that you are not sorry. I learned long ago that even if you are, the person you are sorry toward will never know because you are too prideful to show even the smallest amount of remorse."
"Bend? Bend to what? My own son coming to my home to throw knives at me, furious at me for... for what? For something I was not aware of, some idiotic rivalry?
And you... you're acting as if I did something to him to cause this.
But. Apparently that is exactly what I deserve according to you. According to him. So why should I be surprised?" His eyes were getting red and glassy again, but he refused to let his emotions get the better of him.
"It did not hurt so much coming from him. He is a child. An angry child. My fault as well apparently.
But from you, Athelstan..." He bit his lip, shaking his head free of the train of thoughts that crowded it, "As for you and Dodger, I only wish you had said so sooner."
He turned away, heading into the kitchen. If nothing else, he could just follow Athelstan's example and drink this all away.
Athelstan looks tired when Ragnar doesn't really understand the nuance of what he said. He supposes that he can hardly fault him for that. He's not sure he would be doing much better if he were sober but if he were sober he likely would have said very little about any of this at all. Athelstan wanted to just continue to leave, to go to where his art supplies are and try to pray though, what is heavy on him are not things that his God would give him the answers that he really wishes to have.
He waits until Ragnar is done talking, having watched him throughout it. He's quiet for several long seconds while the other is apparently going for alcohol as well.
"He is a child, Ragnar. He is worried and probably with very good reason. You saw only his anger because that's the only way he knew how to react but he is sad, pained and worried. I think there is something more than a simple idiotic rivalry and he needs you more than either of you are willing to admit. What brought him to this state may not be your fault but if you had or would bend to give him some emapthy and some of that compassion I know you are capable of then you two might be able to understand each other if nothing else. But you had to be stubborn, cocky and right. You made him feel as if you didn't care, Ragnar."
There's a tired sigh before he continues and he knows that he won't leave yet and so he sits on the sofa that had provided partial coverage to Ragnar earlier. His fingers idly toy with the bracelet on his wrist. There's so much of his true feelings that he hides from Ragnar, maybe first and foremost how deeply he loves him and perhaps secondly the deep insecurity that he will disappoint or be inadequate even before things had become intimate.
"What would it have mattered if I had? I feel guilty and ashamed enough without you having a target to attack and more blood on my hands because of words I've said to you. I thought... it would be easy to avoid because when would I have to hear of him again?"
After grabbing a bottle of whiskey, a drink that had been recommended to him, and a glass, he sat down heavily at the kitchen table and poured himself a little bit, knocking it back with a grimace. While Athelstan spoke, he began to pour himself another helping, but decided just to take a drag straight from the bottle. Fuck it.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose and once again dragged his hand over his face. He would eventually speak to Ivar once both of them had calmed down a little bit, but meeting accusations and knives with empathy and compassion hadn't been an option.
"Well. When he cares to speak to me like an adult, I will treat him as one and listen to what he has to say. And, if he continues to act like he did, then I do not care what he has to say. Mostly, because it is all insults," He paused to take another drink, "Or perhaps you overheard an argument I was not present for."
He made a face, frustration welling up again, but for the moment he was taking it out on the label of the bottle, scratching little pieces of it off with his thumb.
"It matters to me. As you said. I am your friend. You were taken advantage of, whether you believe it or not. Perhaps we both would have avoided him..." He didn't know how true those words were. He had no idea what knowing what Dodger had done would've changed things and it was pointless to try to think about them now.
Athelstan sighs because it feels as if Ragnar is still missing the point or perhaps is being deliberately obtuse about what he is trying to say. So he leaves the subject alone, perhaps things will work themselves out but knowing Ragnar it will be in the most painful and inefficient way for everyone but Ragnar.
"You would not have. If you want him, you will have him. Ragnar, I know you too well," he says softly. "I need it to not matter. There is enough to bear without that." He carries it anyway but not admitting it helps, he thinks.
His voice is even quieter, almost a murmur, perhaps more to himself and wishing that Ragnar wouldn't hear the words that wouldn't stay inside, as he says, "I knew there would always be someone else, I just thought it would be a woman."
"Knowing such a thing can change how desirable a person is," It had certainly given him doubts about Dodger. More doubts. Part of him knew he was to blame. He'd known Dodger wasn't a good person and he'd tried to overlook it.
He tore through more of the sticker, gritting his teeth.
He hated himself.
Of course, in the oppressive silence, it's almost impossible not to hear Athelstan's mumbling.
"What difference does that make?" He's genuinely asking. Did Athelstan's permission to love anyone he wanted only apply to women?
Athelstan doesn't comment because he doesn't really see how it makes much of a difference and he's too tired to belabor the point.
His hand switches to the crucifix but neither symbols really are providing him much comfort. One is attached to the source of his pain and the other a reminder that his pain is caused by broken vows.
He shook his head at the question and it's hard to find an answer that is honest without revealing more than he is willing to.
"It doesn't matter, Ragnar," he finally says. It's close enough to the truth. He thinks, perhaps, he really understands why Lagertha had to leave. It is hard to love Ragnar, to be with him. It would have been easier to have never kissed him to have been repressed and while denied those moments of thrilling true happiness he could have saved himself this particular burden.
"Athelstan..." He sighed, somewhere between desperate and hopeless.
He leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face. Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way into the living room and sat down on the floor in front of the couch so he could finally look Athelstan in the eye.
His lips parted, but he ended up sighing again and rolling his eyes at himself, at all of this. It was all so frustrating.
"How can I know what you want from me, if you will not tell me," He gave him a pleading look, though it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt being this open and vulnerable. He studied his finger for a moment, the blood caked under his fingersnails, and then looked back up at Athelstan, searching his face.
"You said before... that... you did not care," He went to reach for Athelstan's hand, but stopped himself, instead he started toying with the seam of the couch cushion, "Talk to me. I do not want to lose you and my son in one night... Please..."
Athelstan finds it difficult to look at Ragnar directly but it's just as difficult not to. He remembers the surge of joy when they first kiss and it's now colored by a feeling that somehow he's broken and he doesn't know how he got this way. When did he start wanting so much that he could feel like this? His throat feels tight because Ragnar's face does something to him.
"I won't ask things of you that you cannot give. I know how that turns out for people," Athelstan whispers and he's thinking of Lagertha again. He reaches to take his hand. Somehow it aches to do so.
He forces a smile then. "You can never lose me. I'm always by your side, I'll always follow you. I always choose you. And you only lose your son if you're too big a fool to right things no matter who's at fault or who's childish."
Another frustrated sigh. He raises his hands in a brief shrug before going back to tugging at the seam on the cushion. Slowly, he lets Athelstan take his hand, curling his fingers around the monk's.
"Maybe you should let me judge what I can or cannot give up," He pointed out quietly. He wasn't certain, about anything, but he knew he didn't like seeing Athelstan like this, "You are obviously not happy..."
The smile Athelstan attempts is more than enough proof, though he believes every word Athelstan says.
Athelstan squeezed Ragnar's hand slightly. The smile becomes more genuine if not more melancholy in a way. Perhaps the worst of this will pass on it's own. After all, Athelstan is used to denial, to holding back and not fully experiencing everything he desires. This is really not much different.
"If I told you, I would either always wonder if you'd come to resent me or I would be... I would know that you couldn't," the correct words are hard to find but he does his best. "My happiness is not your responsibility. Some questions are better left unasked and unanswered. Doesn't the seer always warn about too much knowledge?
He didn't return the squeeze, waiting hopefully for an answer, to be given a task that wasn't impossible. Instead, Athelstan was Athelstan.
With a quiet exhale, he eased backward to lay down, closing his eyes for a beat before opening them to stare up at the dark ceiling.
"The knowledge of what your lover expects in your relationship?" He asked with a sigh, at least his tone was light, almost teasing. At this point, he didn't know what to do, "No, Athelstan, the Seer has never warned me of such things."
His happiness was not Ragnar's responsibility... then why did it feel like his unhappiness was his fault?
The word choices stick to Athelstan and he can't help but think that they do not mean the same things to him as they did to Ragnar. He pulls his hand up, kissing the knuckles softly and pressing his hand to his cheek as he studies him.
"Wouldn't it pain you if I asked more of you than you could give?" Athelstan says softly. "Know that my desire for you is never quenched, my l-... my affection immeasurable and my ability to vex you is unceasing and infinite."
He finishes with a slow smile. In a way, he has honestly told Ragnar what he wants, just not in terms that force a decision or that require the acknowledgment that a question had even been asked.
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He's reeling for a moment when Ragnar is suddenly going toward the stairs but then he stumbles after him and grabs his wrist.
"Don't you dare." Whether he meant leave or go after Dodger, he's not even sure. The truth is somewhere in the middle.
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"What? You think you can just say something like that and I should do nothing?!" His blood dripped on the floor from something, all the commotion opening up one of his cuts, though he had no idea which one, nor did he care.
He took a moment, his thoughts very obviously elsewhere for a moment and then once again turned to calmly go down the stairs.
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"What do you hope to accomplish, Ragnar? I shouldn't have told you."
It'd been eating at him even before today and there'd been something in what he'd heard that had made it worse. But he didn't think Ragnar doing whatever was in his mind in his current state would help anyone least of all the Viking.
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Having to grab his axe ended up putting Athelstan, as he came down the stairs after him, between himself and the door, forcing him to stop and actually face the monk.
"If nothing else, he will not be drugging anyone else. Move, Athelstan."
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"He didn't force me to drink it. He didn't force me to do anything, Ragnar," it's true and at the same time there's still the part of him that is bothered by it all, bothered by Dodger. "Isn't it just as much my fault? Ragnar, please..." he needs him to stay but the words are caught. Ragnar's angry at him already and now he's really made the situation worse for everyone.
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Honestly, he just felt tired. Drained. Done. Between Ivar, Athelstan and Dodger today, he was just done.
He was silent, the muscle on his jaw flexing visibly.
"Fine," He suddenly looked as tired and worn out as he felt. Setting the axe down, he brushed past Athelstan, going back up the stairs without a word.
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"Ragnar," his voice is soft and he's trying to focus through how handicapped his focus is with the alcohol in his system. He doesn't know how to explain that he's not okay with everything that had happened but that he also didn't think he or Ragnar had any right to blame Dodger. Athelstan should have known better. He'd been stupid and then he'd been too weak to resist temptation when it called and he's ashamed of that. And now Ragnar is ... angry and he's sad? He's bleeding and in need of a decent bathing. Athelstan is lost.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm thinking," he tries to keep his voice steady and calm but Ragnar probably knows him too well for it to work. He's sure he's being selfish, that from the moment Ragnar came home he's been selfish. The urge to tell Ragnar that he needs him is there, the words right on the tip of his tongue but he lets go of his arm instead. "I'm sorry for everything."
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He thought he'd had things figured out, more figured out, and now it felt like he was back at the beginning. He needed to think. Alone. Athelstan was making it very obvious that he thought differently.
"Don't," He stated firmly, once again pushing out of Athelstan's grasp, prickling. His initial apology is met with another eyeroll, Ragnar looking anywhere but at Athelstan, his arms not so much crossed over his chest as hugging himself, "Then you should go back to sleep."
His second apology is met with something between a glare, confusion, and doubt.
"I do not know what you are apologizing for," He stated simply. It almost sounded like a warning, or a plea. If Athelstan had actually done something wrong, he just wanted to hear it now. The day had already been terrible, what was one more thing?
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"Take your own bed," Athelstan says then, motioning toward the room they usually share but it's really Ragnar's. He pushes down the things he wants and needs just then, even drunk there's only so much rope he'll give himself.
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Maybe you are actually sorry that I took it the way I did. Perhaps you thought you would make me feel guilty. About Ivar. About Dodger. But I do not. I did what I did and there is no reason and no point in apologizing for it. It changes nothing one way or the other."
Was he even talking to Athelstan anymore? Some of what he was saying was meant for him, a lot wasn't.
He glanced towards his room, almost puzzled. He was so used to 'being in the wrong' and thus the one to be kicked out and forced to sleep on the spare straw mats that he hadn't even considered sleeping in his own bed while Athelstan took the spare.
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He turns then hastening down the stairs.
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It was a little ironic that he was claiming not to feel guilty, sorry or that he regretted anything when he was clearly both angry and fighting a multitude of other more painful emotions that were threatening to break through.
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Athelstan's hands clench before he continues. "I had no right to tell you it was Dodger but you are..." he looks lost for the word. "You're my friend, who else do I have to tell what weighs on my heart? It's incredibly selfish of me, though. I regret it but I had no ulterior motive and I do not care that you are not sorry. I learned long ago that even if you are, the person you are sorry toward will never know because you are too prideful to show even the smallest amount of remorse."
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And you... you're acting as if I did something to him to cause this.
But. Apparently that is exactly what I deserve according to you. According to him. So why should I be surprised?" His eyes were getting red and glassy again, but he refused to let his emotions get the better of him.
"It did not hurt so much coming from him. He is a child. An angry child. My fault as well apparently.
But from you, Athelstan..." He bit his lip, shaking his head free of the train of thoughts that crowded it, "As for you and Dodger, I only wish you had said so sooner."
He turned away, heading into the kitchen. If nothing else, he could just follow Athelstan's example and drink this all away.
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He waits until Ragnar is done talking, having watched him throughout it. He's quiet for several long seconds while the other is apparently going for alcohol as well.
"He is a child, Ragnar. He is worried and probably with very good reason. You saw only his anger because that's the only way he knew how to react but he is sad, pained and worried. I think there is something more than a simple idiotic rivalry and he needs you more than either of you are willing to admit. What brought him to this state may not be your fault but if you had or would bend to give him some emapthy and some of that compassion I know you are capable of then you two might be able to understand each other if nothing else. But you had to be stubborn, cocky and right. You made him feel as if you didn't care, Ragnar."
There's a tired sigh before he continues and he knows that he won't leave yet and so he sits on the sofa that had provided partial coverage to Ragnar earlier. His fingers idly toy with the bracelet on his wrist. There's so much of his true feelings that he hides from Ragnar, maybe first and foremost how deeply he loves him and perhaps secondly the deep insecurity that he will disappoint or be inadequate even before things had become intimate.
"What would it have mattered if I had? I feel guilty and ashamed enough without you having a target to attack and more blood on my hands because of words I've said to you. I thought... it would be easy to avoid because when would I have to hear of him again?"
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He squeezed the bridge of his nose and once again dragged his hand over his face. He would eventually speak to Ivar once both of them had calmed down a little bit, but meeting accusations and knives with empathy and compassion hadn't been an option.
"Well. When he cares to speak to me like an adult, I will treat him as one and listen to what he has to say. And, if he continues to act like he did, then I do not care what he has to say. Mostly, because it is all insults," He paused to take another drink, "Or perhaps you overheard an argument I was not present for."
He made a face, frustration welling up again, but for the moment he was taking it out on the label of the bottle, scratching little pieces of it off with his thumb.
"It matters to me. As you said. I am your friend. You were taken advantage of, whether you believe it or not. Perhaps we both would have avoided him..." He didn't know how true those words were. He had no idea what knowing what Dodger had done would've changed things and it was pointless to try to think about them now.
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"You would not have. If you want him, you will have him. Ragnar, I know you too well," he says softly. "I need it to not matter. There is enough to bear without that." He carries it anyway but not admitting it helps, he thinks.
His voice is even quieter, almost a murmur, perhaps more to himself and wishing that Ragnar wouldn't hear the words that wouldn't stay inside, as he says, "I knew there would always be someone else, I just thought it would be a woman."
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He tore through more of the sticker, gritting his teeth.
He hated himself.
Of course, in the oppressive silence, it's almost impossible not to hear Athelstan's mumbling.
"What difference does that make?" He's genuinely asking. Did Athelstan's permission to love anyone he wanted only apply to women?
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His hand switches to the crucifix but neither symbols really are providing him much comfort. One is attached to the source of his pain and the other a reminder that his pain is caused by broken vows.
He shook his head at the question and it's hard to find an answer that is honest without revealing more than he is willing to.
"It doesn't matter, Ragnar," he finally says. It's close enough to the truth. He thinks, perhaps, he really understands why Lagertha had to leave. It is hard to love Ragnar, to be with him. It would have been easier to have never kissed him to have been repressed and while denied those moments of thrilling true happiness he could have saved himself this particular burden.
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He leaned back in his chair, dragging both hands down his face. Pushing himself to his feet, he made his way into the living room and sat down on the floor in front of the couch so he could finally look Athelstan in the eye.
His lips parted, but he ended up sighing again and rolling his eyes at himself, at all of this. It was all so frustrating.
"How can I know what you want from me, if you will not tell me," He gave him a pleading look, though it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt being this open and vulnerable. He studied his finger for a moment, the blood caked under his fingersnails, and then looked back up at Athelstan, searching his face.
"You said before... that... you did not care," He went to reach for Athelstan's hand, but stopped himself, instead he started toying with the seam of the couch cushion, "Talk to me. I do not want to lose you and my son in one night... Please..."
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"I won't ask things of you that you cannot give. I know how that turns out for people," Athelstan whispers and he's thinking of Lagertha again. He reaches to take his hand. Somehow it aches to do so.
He forces a smile then. "You can never lose me. I'm always by your side, I'll always follow you. I always choose you. And you only lose your son if you're too big a fool to right things no matter who's at fault or who's childish."
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"Maybe you should let me judge what I can or cannot give up," He pointed out quietly. He wasn't certain, about anything, but he knew he didn't like seeing Athelstan like this, "You are obviously not happy..."
The smile Athelstan attempts is more than enough proof, though he believes every word Athelstan says.
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"If I told you, I would either always wonder if you'd come to resent me or I would be... I would know that you couldn't," the correct words are hard to find but he does his best. "My happiness is not your responsibility. Some questions are better left unasked and unanswered. Doesn't the seer always warn about too much knowledge?
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With a quiet exhale, he eased backward to lay down, closing his eyes for a beat before opening them to stare up at the dark ceiling.
"The knowledge of what your lover expects in your relationship?" He asked with a sigh, at least his tone was light, almost teasing. At this point, he didn't know what to do, "No, Athelstan, the Seer has never warned me of such things."
His happiness was not Ragnar's responsibility... then why did it feel like his unhappiness was his fault?
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"Wouldn't it pain you if I asked more of you than you could give?" Athelstan says softly. "Know that my desire for you is never quenched, my l-... my affection immeasurable and my ability to vex you is unceasing and infinite."
He finishes with a slow smile. In a way, he has honestly told Ragnar what he wants, just not in terms that force a decision or that require the acknowledgment that a question had even been asked.
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