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

18 - A Beloved's Hatred

England

"You can't always go by actions because some people will act like they love you just to get what they want from you." 

-Sonya Parker-  

He had had time to think about everything that had happened. He had taken his time in finally calming himself and coming up with a plan. He knew what he was going to do. Even if Asher acted like a beast, an entirely different person, he still knew that the old her had to be there somewhere. He had to draw it back out, he had to make her remember what she felt for him only a year prior. Ivar was blind to his faults, seeming to entirely forget his attempt to murder her, something he thought only hours previous to have been effective.

He sat upon his makeshift throne, staring at the doors before him. He needed a plan to take down Asher's army but spare her. If he knew anything about her, he knew that she loved to be in the middle of a battle. She loved to see the fear in others eyes up close, something that he had decided would be her downfall. He would use this cold-blooded, sadistic need to see others suffer to his advantage. He would capture her and make her his again, even if it meant imprisoning her for the rest of her life.

Asher watched the castle from the hill, sat upon her three-legged stead, she thought of the times she had spent there before her attempted assassination. She no longer was blinded by a foolish love, she could see clearly now. The way he had treated was not filled with love, but a venomous treachery. She longed to drown him in the same tube he had tried to take her life. This only fueled her goal to take back what was rightfully hers. This kingdom would be beneath her feet once again, its people would bow before her again.

A day passed before Ivar emerged from the English kingdom once more. Behind was a mighty force, far more powerful than most. The Ironcrawlers's, however, were also a force to be reckoned with. Asher and Ivar glared in the others direction with hate before announcing their calls to begin this battle between previous allies.

"FORWARD!" Asher yelled, unsheathing her sword and slicing it in the direction of the Northman. Her stead standing upon its hind legs with a grunt and neigh, also ready for this annoyance of a battle to begin. It looked at the enemy through cold, dark eyes, ready for what was to come. It was loyal, willing to sacrifice itself for its compassionate mistress. 

Ivar uttered a similar call, his men racing forward to meet hers, both killing one another. They secretly mourned for their fallen brothers they stepped over to continue to slaughter their past friends.

Asher, unlike herself at all, stayed to the back of the fight, killing many. She was more cautious around Ivar and his men than before. She was unwilling to fall into a trap, she wanted this victory, needed it. She wasn't willing to compromise that for anything. In this gesture, she avoided being captured by Ivar's men.

By midday, much of Ivar's army had been slaughtered. Asher's army still pushing forward toward Ivar, in hopes of making him pay for what he had done to their leader. At this point, Ivar knew that his army was going to be completely, but who was he to stop them from Valhalla. So, with a head filled with his enemies bloody corpses, he rushed into the midst of battle, sentencing himself to death.

Within the hour, he and the few survivors left were captured by the Ironcrawlers. They were sat before their enemy general, Asher having no care for them.

"Asher," Ivar spoke, his wicked plan still in mind, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I loved you, I love you. Can't we go back to the way it was."

 He sounded like a child, naive and stupid. She glared down on him, not sparing him from her anger, but before she could let it all out, she stopped herself, calming down. She looked upon them all with cold eyes and with a weightless heart passed judgment, giving her men free reign to do as they wished with the prisoners. All of those left were tortured, left to scream till their larynx burst. Many were dead within hours, but Ivar and a few of his men remained.

Asher once again was forced to pass another punishment, let them live and suffer with their wounds for all eternity or kill them. Asher, wanting Ivar to feel the pain she felt a year prior, decided that death would be their punishment. Much like she had so many years ago, she lay this young king on a cross, nailing his wrists and legs to the wood. She watched as they lined the bodies, some still living and some dead along the main road leading to the castle. Showing all who dared come to this kingdom that if they dared oppose their ruler, they would surely suffer the consequences. Their half-dead body would also line this very road, establishing it, The Road to Hell.