Alfred's army marched ever closer to the invader camp. It was unsettlingly slow for Helga, who received reports every day on their approach. She couldn't tell what Alfred was doing. Was he waiting for Halfdan, or was it a scare tactic to try and get a surrender? How long had it been? A week, nearly two now since they spoke. He was close enough to make that distance easily. Was he waiting for her to bend the knee, or was it simple because he couldn't be bothered to attack yet. She didn't know?
A man walked in. Helga recognised him immediately as one of Halfdan's men. Ever since he had his meeting with Alfred, Halfdan had been forced to not have much contact with her, instead relying on messengers. "He said it's finally time."
Helga knew what he meant. It was time to finally kill all the traitors within her camp. Giving a stern nod, she grabbed the wolf pelt at her side and swung it over her shoulders. She gave herself one final look in the mirror and saw she looked perfect for the occasion.
Knut sat in his room, reading a book again. He had slowly learnt the language of the new world and now was able to understand what was written. A commotion outside broke his concentration. He looked up at the door. The sound grew louder as metal clashed with one another, and the sound of flesh being cut could be heard. The pained yells of men rung within the castle walls and they inched closer to his office. Putting the book down, Knut sighed. He knew this time was eventually going to come. When Bo never returned he suspected he had been caught for his treason.
Standing up he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he was going to die. That thought had existed since Erik had. Despite knowing this, he was going to die with the dignity that a King should have. He wouldn't give Helga the satisfaction of screaming and begging before he left this world. The doors swung open. He looked past the small man standing there, flanked by his two large bodyguards. He could see his loyal men's bodies sprawled on the floor, smiling when he saw them take a few down with them.
"Leave us," Halfdan spoke, the two that followed him left closing the door behind them. "It must be strange. You have always been proud of your title as king and yet here we are. A mere Jarl has more power and sway over our people than your title ever brought."
"What is it you want Halfdan? If I am to die, I don't want my last moments to be with you." Knut said in annoyance. He grabbed the bottle of wine next to him drinking its contents. Looking at the small man he threw it over to him. Although he disliked him, drinking alone felt wrong when he could share it with someone.
Halfdan didn't refuse, drinking some of its contents before throwing it back. "We both know that no love will be lost with your death. But I can tell you this. Your people will be safe, I'll see to it," Halfdan said with a rare kindness, "The whole reason for our adventure seems to have been lost for most, but I'll see to it that it works."
"Please don't tell me you're a samaritan now Halfdan." Knut almost choked on his own laughter hearing the words coming from Halfdan's mouth. "I know who you are. I'm sure that my people will live. Don't try and lie to me making it seem like you have a heart now." Knut pushed past Halfdan opening the door. "Can we get this over with? I wish to drink with the Gods, and see my men." Halfdan gave a silent nod. He didn't bother to tie up the fallen King. He could see the man was ready for death, he wouldn't bother to remove the final dignity he had.
Helga stood on the ceremonial platform. She watched as Knut walked through the crowd of people, a path being cleared for him. He walked with unfiltered pride, his chin held high as if spiting her. Her fists clenched seeing his brazen behaviour, but she said nothing, allowing him to walk closer to her.
Being led up the steps of the platform, his legs were kicked, forcing him to his knees. He didn't make a sound, silently watching the crowd that gathered to watch. He recognised some faces. Those not completely taken with Helga looked with worry, sadness or indifference. The others however had smiles plastered on their faces, already sure of his guilt. He could only scoff at the thought, it wasn't as if they would be wrong about it, he already had made his plans.
Helga looked at the man. She could see he was ready to die and it infuriated her. She never expected him to beg, but she had wanted him to show fear. Allow him to be made an example of. Taking a deep breath she calmed herself. Rage for a mortal was unbecoming of her and she knew that in front of the people she couldn't show anything but perfection. That being said it was also her divine role to judge those who were grievous traitors, no matter the punishment.
She would make him hurt. She would force him to scream. To show those who still believed in this false King that he was a human. Helga walked behind Knut. "My people. I say with a heavy heart that we have been betrayed. Betrayed by one who had promised to lead our people to a new future, who had promised to save our people. He conspired with our enemy to throw all your lives away and to kill me, his queen, his God. It is for this great treason that I sentence King Knut to death."
Knut took a deep breath. He knew this was coming but to hear the words still created a seed of fear in him. He took solace in that Helga would swing the sword herself but he was terrified of how she would. It was the reason he didn't give Bo an answer straight away. He was terrified of this exact moment, of being made into a spectacle to feed Helga's crazed thirst for blood. Would she kill him quickly, torture him, eat him? Everything was a possibility and each one terrified him. His word of dying with dignity seemed to be lost in this moment.
Helga looked at the face of the stoic King slowly crumble with the death sentence being given. She took the ceremonial dagger from her belt. Looking at its blade she couldn't help but give it a caring stroke. It had been the start of everything. Her ascension to Godhood and her rise to power. Giving the blade one last stroke she looked at the canvas in front of her.
It was a new thing she wished to try. Grabbing his arms, she tied them up to the top of the support beam. His legs were tied, spreading his body like a star. The dagger cut through his skin but stopped before it would pierce fully. She started on his arms, making sure he wouldn't die instantly.
Knut watched as the blade went through his arm. Slowly he watched her drag it down, slowly and carefully, letting him experience every ounce of pain. His breathing quickened as the pain sent waves through his body. He tried to fight the urge but as he watched his skin be peeled off a blood-curdling scream left his mouth, unable to cope with the situation anymore. The face of the prideful king had crumbled, leaving nothing but a terrified man.
Alfred sat in his tent when his scout ran in. His face was pale and he looked as if he had seen a demon. "Is it done?" He could see the man was tired from riding for so long to arrive here, but there was more, a terror on his face.
Giving a silent nod the scout couldn't even blink. He was a soldier but it didn't mean he liked excessive blood. He was a Unyeilding but even with his rigorous training and lessons it was a sight that broke through. "The Jarl kept his word and got King Knut killed. Flayed alive. I left before it finished." Alfred clasped his hands together giving a small nod.
"Go rest. You deserve it." The man bowed, quickly leaving. Alfred ran his hand through his golden hair, giving a deep sigh. He knew the people he was working with were savages. He shook his head clear of these thoughts. 'If I am to rule over them, I have to become worse than them.' It was a horrid thought to have, but he knew that when he stepped onto this path, he would have to discard his humanity the further he went.
Helga stood behind the flayed body of Knut. Her face was split with a smile fresh out of hell. She looked a the man's exposed muscles. His screams had stopped long ago and now only an eerie silence hung in the courtyard.
She looked at all those watching. Eyes full of fear, eyes full of worship. They were an equal mix and she couldn't help but love both. She had only craved worship before but now, those terrified eyes were also equally as good. She looked down at Halfdan and couldn't help but be shook. Despite everything his eyes still had the same indifference. As if looking at a dead deer he hunted. He was the only thing that would never look at her like the rest of the invading force. She didn't know why it ticked her off so much but it did.
"King Knut, despite his treason was a feverous man. He cared more for the Gods than anyone, and although he disgraced himself in his final days, we can all be sure that he would hope his body would be used for the Gods." She plunged the dagger into his chest, her eyes never leaving Halfdan's. Breaking his ribs, she pulled out the man's heart, which still lightly beat.
With his final breath, he looked at his heart in the hands of a demon. His mind had broken long before his death, but feeling the cold embrace of death, brought him back as he finally realised that the torture had ended.
Helga raised the heart high into the air. "I offer the heart of King Knut as a sacrifice. For the Father Hakon, The God of War Bjorn, The Crow Steffen and The Bringer of the New Age Helga." Speaking the names of the Gods and her own, she took a deep bite into the King's heart, not breaking eye contact with Halfdan. She watched as she consumed every bite with a wave of pleasure for a good sacrifice. She had wanted to see the moment his eyes turned into fear or disgust, anything other than his indifference, but the moment never came. It was something she couldn't understand, something that almost scared her.
How could one man not show even a hint of emotion? Did he have such perfect control over himself or was he truly devoid of it all? Did he not care about watching a man he had known for years and fought with being flayed and devoured right in front of him? Did he only show emotion when it came to his own desires? Would he not even scream if he was flayed, burnt at the stake or cut a thousand times? Was creating a lasting dynasty the only thing that could invoke something in him? Was getting more power the only thing that could make him feel?
In her mind the danger that Halfdan posed to her shot up dramatically. She knew he was dangerous before, but this was something else. This was a threat she had to tame or remove.