Despite the fact that Ragnar was on the verge of death, he couldn't seem to bring himself to care. He didn't want to fight it.
Blood soaked his clothes and the ground where he lay, the crimson river flowing from the stab wound in his chest. He felt cold.
He couldn't feel the wound anymore. It wasn't painful. There was just a vague cold feeling stemming from his chest outward. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, he could feel himself dying. However, instead of being afraid, which if he were sane, he would be, he felt happy. Almost happier than he had ever felt in his entire life. Almost.
Yes, he was leaving his family. Yes, he felt a twinge of guilt and regret. Yes, he knew that his people would mourn his death. Especially his children... Especially Lagertha.
He lay on that cold ground, weak and alone. Except he wasn't alone, no, not really. He still had the one object that made him feel safe. That made him feel less alone... made him feel.
Athelstan's cross. It still hung around his neck even after all these years. It was the only connection he had left to the monk. The only connection he had to his purpose, really. And he would be dammed if he was going to leave without it.
Said cross was clutched in his hand, the metal going warm in his fist. He looked up, watching as the crows flew ahead, waiting. The sky was covered in dark clouds. He could tell a storm was coming. The only part of the sky that wasn't covered in clouds seemed to be right above him. The sun was peeking through and sending rays of sunlight down upon him. It was like it was calling to him. I know you're tired. Just close your eyes. It will all be over soon, I promise.
He could feel the metal cutting into his skin, reminding him that no, it wasn't over yet. He was still here.
The only thing Ragnar was really worried about was where he would go. Would he go to Valhalla with his family and friends? He was born a Northman... would he die one too? Would Odin keep him there, in that great hall with all of the other heroes, or would he cast him out? Would he send him out the great gates to find his own way? Or, would he go to Heaven with Athelstan? He was unsure.
Dark spots were popping up in his vision now, letting him know that the end was near. Once the life left his body, he would cease to exist. Only the memory of the great king would remain... and his legacy would be carried on by his many sons. Bjorn would surely become a powerful influence in the Viking communities. Perhaps he would even claim the throne and lead the Northmen into many glorious battles and sieges.
The ominous cold was in his fingertips now. Small sparks zapped in his fingers but he could barely feel them through the cold. He knew it was close. The void was getting closer, and while he didn't know what was waiting for him on the other side, he knew he would be happier there.
It would only be another minute or two now. His time was almost up.
Instead of fighting it, the king embraced it. He smiled as he saw Death coming for him. He smiled up at the sky, cross clutched tightly in his hand. Death was here now, hand on his shoulder, scythe held in the other.
And as he closed his eyes for a final time, he smiled at the sky.
I'm coming, Athelstan.
~~~~
White mist. Thats all Ragnar could see for miles around him. Nothing less, nothing more. The tendrils swirled around him, licking at his skin. Where was he?
He looked around, watching as the mist curled in the air. This doesn't look like Valhalla. This doesn't look like anything. And yet as he stood there, he could feel a presence. He didn't know how but he could feel it... and it felt familiar.
He looked down at himself and was surprised to see that he was no longer covered in dirt and blood. No longer wearing any of the signs of battle... save his scars, of course.
He wasn't cold anymore either. He felt pleasantly warm, like he was lying in the sand on a nice Summers day.
In the distance before him, Ragnar could see a figure appearing, walking forward. Who was it?
The mist parted as the figure got closer and Ragnar smiled, realising who it was.
"We meet again, my old friend," the man said.
Athelstan smiled, taking in the person before him.
"I have waited a long time for this," Ragnar croaked out. His eyes started to water. He had waited years to see him again.
"You left me. I was lost without you," Ragnar said. Athelstan merely smiled.
"It was my time. My Lord told me so. I accepted my death just as you have."
"You left me too soon. We had so much more to talk about. So much more to do together. We were going to sail the world."
The mist was still swirling around them, curling around their bodies like a snake would around its victim.
"It wasn't meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. God has a plan for everything."
Ragnar listened to every word his friend was saying. He listened with every fibre of his being because it was the first time he had heard the monk's voice in years. He looked happy.
His hair was long, like when they sailed to Wessex together and his skin was almost glowing.
"I hated you for leaving me... For a long time I couldn't forgive myself. I had failed you, Athelstan, and for that I am truly sorry," Ragnar's voice was cracking.
Suddenly, he was overwhelmed, like the fact that Athelstan was standing before him finally hit home. He was really here, with him. And they were finally together again. This time, there would be no one to stand between them. For they are inseparable and they have a bond that is not to be reckoned with.
As Ragnar stepped forward and embraced Athelstan, he knew. He knew that no matter what, as long as Athelstan was by his side, everything would be alright.
A/n: let me know what you guys think? This gave me so many feels. Also, the beautiful cover was made by the most talented hyperparadise. Check out her stories, they are amazing.
