Kill the King •Ivar the Boneless• [ON HIATUS]

12 - Two Years of Conquering

England

Two Years Later

England had been conquered. Wessex had fallen with little effort, but still a well-deserved victory from the years of warring they had faced. Asher and Ivar's armies were drunkenly celebrating their newest victory. Asher was sat upon the English king's throne deep in thought. She knew that she should be joyful, England had been defeated and she was now a ruler of it. But, she couldn't help the feeling of utter hopelessness and agony. Something was wrong, the scar that was buried across her chest so long ago burned. She felt as if Mosseus was trying to tell her something from the grave. She had obtained this mutilated flesh in the same battle that her master had died. This was one of the few things that still connected her to him. That is why she felt as if he was warning her of something bad to come. This victory was too easy, she knew something was up, but she wasn't sure what it was. She knew that she alone could not produce the answer to her curiosity.

She could hear Ivar, the Viking's, and Ironcrawlers cheering of this wanted victory throughout the kingdom. She couldn't trust him or his people, maybe that is what Mosseus was trying to remind her, warn her of. She felt alone, even if she had her people. It seemed as if even they had turned to the Vikings side and had abandoned her. She felt like she was losing it, her mind was swarmed with thoughts and visions of betrayal. She had to kill them before they killed her. 

She moved from her Christian seat, moving towards the door. She quietly entered the hall, traveling to the end where a window stood. She looked down upon the people who continued to drink to their victory. Why could she not be careless like them? Why was she so worried about a future betrayal? Why did she feel the burden of leadership so heavy upon her shoulders now, after so many years? Was she really cut out to be their leader? Mosseus was only a man, he could have chosen wrongly. Maybe he chose the wrong person to be his heir, her brothers, strong and intelligent, seemed to be the better choices. But, for some reason, Mosseus had chosen her out of every man and woman he had ever known.

She wished Mosseus was still alive so that he could answer all her questions that pestered her mind. She wished to be free of them, their answers to be freely told to her questioning mind. Unfortunately, nothing is that easy and no answer will appear before her in her depressed state. She frowned, disgusted at the drinking bastards below her. She turned away from the window, moving back down the hall to the staircase that led to the dungeons. In this last raid, they had captured Wessex which, at the time they fought, held the king, Alfred the Great, his mother, Judith, and brother, Aethelred. They were to be held as prisoners until Ivar, and Asher, decided what to do with them.

Asher, from previous experiences with Ivar's foul temper and lack of respect for her, knew that she would never have a decision in what happened to them. She knew now was the only time she'd ever have to speak to these Christians. With every step she took closer to their cell, she became wearier of what to say. She didn't know what had made her travel down to them, but she had amounted it to Mosseus guiding her. The burning of her scar had lessened with each step-down and so she thought she was doing something right for a change.

When she made it to their cell door she nodded to the standing guards, one an Ironcrawler, the other a Viking. They nodded back to her, opening the door for her to enter. Upon entering she was met with three sets of glaring eyes. Their blue eyes glazed over with fear and confusion as she entered their chambers. She mockingly bowed to the three prisoners, letting out a small laugh. The pain in her scar had become a light ache, she felt a bit more like herself once again. Confidence radiated off of her in waves, even these royals could feel her pridefully poised personality.

"King Alfred," she spoke connivingly, though a sound of sweetness floated with her voice. "I assume that this is not the end of you. To be captured so easily, it was almost too easy. There were not half the men I have seen the other times I have visited here. I know that they have not all died from some disease or fled for fear of death. So there must have been some plan you hatched up well before we arrived here. It was no secret that we were coming. Word had spread the moment our first victory came that we were coming for Wessex, though you were not to know when we would come. But, I guess, that it would take a simpleton to realize that you were all that was left after the last village fell. So you sent away half your army to what I assume is a retrieval team of some sorts. They are to come back for you three."

She smiled at the glaring English royals, "Oh what a joy. I get to shed more blood in only a little time."

King Alfred cleared his throat, "Is this all you have come to say? To tell me that you know of plans that may or may not be true?"

Asher smiled a mischievous smile, "Do not get me wrong, dear king. I do not care if you have an army ready to save you from our devilish grasps. In fact, I welcome it. I can see that you have much greatness ahead of you. I would not stand in the way of such things. I would gladly let you walk out of her now, but unfortunately, my ally does not see it that way. For him, it is better to kill anything that may rear its head at a later date and ruin future plans of victory. He doesn't see the fun in having a continuous enemy, the thrill of a possible attack at any moment. I am glad that you have come up with this plan to save you. I can't wait to see your future kingdom. I can't wait to see you take over England once again and hunt down all who have opposed you. I will be joyously waiting for that battle one day."

Alfred looked surprised by Asher's confession, but he also seemed to radiate a new confidence in him. He knew he was going to get out of here. He knew he would survive. He was excited for what was to come. If she could see greatness in him, then he was almost sure that something great was to happen in his lifetime. While he thought of this, he failed to notice the Ironcrawler guard that entered.

"Leader," the Ironcrawler spoke, "we have an enemy coming. They surround us. Ivar demands your presence." With those words, the Ironcrawler left.

Asher put a finger to her lips, a smile showing behind it as she silenced them.

"Don't talk about this conversations or I shall have all your heads."

She turned, leaving the dungeon. Up the stairs, she went until she stood before a door that led to the outside. When she opened it the screaming hit her. They demanded that everyone become ready for battle. The English were coming and they needed to fight. As Asher looked out to the horizon sat upon a distant hill, she noticed the tall figure stood at the head of the army. A wide smiled found its way on her astonished features. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

He was alive.