Being the daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok wasn't easy. Let alone being the sister to the best warriors in all the lands.
Isi grew to be the best shield maiden that ever lived. Even better then Lagertha. Which was surprising because she was a great warri...
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Ivars chariot dragged King Aelle through the dirt, screaming to be helped. Isi and her brothers following swiftly behind, laughing and enjoying the misery of the King.
The rain poured down, as if the gods themselves were watching down upon them. Awaiting the death of king Aelle, Ragnar by their sides. It brung Isi great joy to know that the gods were watching, that her mother and father would have been proud of them.
Soon they came to a large pit in the ground, some type of trap door. At first Isi believed it was an animal trap, but soon realised that it was none of the sort. Instead it had held her fathers dying breaths as he lay at the bottom of the pit.
The siblings and Floki gathered around the large hole, Sigurd taking the responsibility of making sure their prisoner stayed put. Holding his axe to his throat threateningly.
Isi was still in pain from the large wound on her shoulder, Hvitsirk noticing her winces at any sudden movement. He had protested about her joining them for this last part, but she insisted. She was stubborn, anyone knew that, plus she wasn't willing to sit behind and miss the death of her fathers murderer.
"How the little pigs will grunt, when they hear how the old boar suffered" Bjorn spoke, in the strange Saxon language. His eyes on the King.
"How much gold and silver do you want to spare my life?" Aelle pleaded, tears of fear flooding his eyes. "Name your price. Anything you wish"
In some ways Isi felt sympathetic towards the fat man. Dying was something she also feared in life, though the thrill of the battlefield made it all so much easier. It was not the pain she would injure that frightened the girl, No. It was the people she would leave behind.
"You stupid man" Isi answered, surprising her brothers that she spoke the Saxon language. She began walking towards the man before speaking once again. "No amount of riches is enough to spare your pitiful life"
Most brothers furrowed their brows, glancing at one another. Confused. Isi had never been taught the Saxon language. Ivar seemed to be the only one with a smirk on his face, looking proudly at his younger sister. Ivar was evil, everyone knew that. Bloodshed was his pleasure, and from the way Isi was talking it sounded as if there was more to come.
Floki then approached Sigurd, pushing him out of the way so he could grab the prisoner. Floki was just as hurt by Ragnars death as the siblings, he was his best friend, the person Floki loved as equally as his wife.
"I've been told your god is a carpenter. Guess what, so am I" the look on king Aelle's face was pure terror. A smirk etched its way onto the girls face, she was going to enjoy this.
***
That night, King Aelle was crucified. Nailed down onto a wooden cross that Floki had made, just as the stories of his god had been told.
Isi watched from beside Ivar, Aelle's screams echoing through her ears like a sweet lullaby. The smirks of her brothers faces as they held him down, was surprisingly a wonderful sight to Isi.
He sounded in pain. Pain that Isi took great pleasure in watching. She wanted him to suffer, a blood eagle would do just that. Isi was never aloud to blood eagle tortures, mainly because her brothers believed it would be too much for her. Which it probably would have been if it wasn't Aelle being tortured.
Ubbe, Hvitsirk and Sigurd stood back from the crying man, Bjorn being the oldest sibling took charge of performing the torture. Which none of them argued about.
With wide eyes, Isi watched the kings screams grow louder. The flaming hot blade dividing his skin, sizzling as the blood hit the silver. Normally any woman would turn away, but not Isi. She was smiling, laughing even.
Bjorn tarred open his back, the blood covered skin hanging at either side of the man. Drops of blood splashing onto the dirt, Ubbe passing his axe to his older brother to continue.
Isi could hear his bones shatter and break with each swing of the axe. Aelle's bloodcurdling cries now only faint in the girl ears. She was no seer, but Isi knew his death was near, she could feel it.
They all stood in what seemed like a trance, enchanted by the act. The siblings were living up to their legacy, living up to be the children of Ragnar Lothbrok. The most famous Viking to ever live.
With Ivar by her side, Isi slowly approached the man, kneeling down beside him. She watched all emotions drain from his face, his eyes staring into nothing. He was dead.
Her brothers watched her with curiosity, her body moving towards the gruesome view from the back. Shattered bones, guts, blood. It was something from a horror movie. Though she didn't see it that way.
She dipped the tips of her fingers into the mess, blood dripping from them as she wore his blood as war paint. Streaks of blood staining her face from her forehead down to her jaw.
She wore the blood of her fathers killer like a trophy. This was something to be celebrated. But it wasn't yet over.
