GRACEFUL ━ VIKINGS

━━ EIGHTEEN

[ act ii - burn the kingdoms down ]
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
( she will have her revenge )

HER REVENGE WAS GOING TO BE SWEET, AS SWEET AS as the ale they drank. She was going to kill the one who truly orchestrated this whole thing and she did not give one damn about anyone else who wanted the one who did this dead. She was going to have her revenge and no one, not even Odin could stop her. Her rage ran deep for this person who took the one person she never thought would mean so much to her.

Since the death of her husband, she took her rage out against anyone, especially the Saxons they waged a war against. They were supposed to return home but instead, she pushed it back as she had some unfinished anger to get rid of. She had already sent some of her army home before her, only those who no longer wished to be here.

Her sword struck any man down and she became even more feared by the men and women in the great heathen army. Her heart had slowly turned cold and icy. Slowly but surely, her heart turned desolate. Her mind truly only wanted one thing at that moment, revenge.

Althea would get a taste of sweet, sweet revenge that she has wanted from the first moment she was threatened by them. She had a plan though and had to make sure that it panned out the way she wanted. Her sword plunged into the chest of a Saxon man. She belted out a war cry. Her face was covered in blood, her hair soaked in the blood of her enemies, but not the enemy she wanted.

Soon, she would get what she wanted. Her body collided with another and ended up on top of him. Her ax making contact with his face, she screamed out as she continued to bring her ax down, over and over again. The men not only of the heathen army stopped but so did the Saxons close to her and watched. Pure fear etched onto their faces.

She stood up and looked around, not even a bit out of breath, "Who's next?"

Althea's arms raised up into the air an ax in one and her sword in the other, "WHO'S NEXT?" She shouted, her words echoing around the battlefield. Her smile was sinister. The next man who raised his sword or shield to her would be dead in an instant. She watched as the Saxon men dropped their weapons.

Out of complete fear of her. They had never seen anything like it, a woman so lost yet so here at the same time. Her smirk was devilish as if the goddess Hel was here herself. The goddess of death. The Saxons had surrendered and Althea was not about to take any prisoners.

"You should have kept fighting." Her voice rang out, "Kill them." She ordered her men and they did. They slaughtered each and every Saxon that had laid siege to the Heathen army that day.

Maximus had watched his Princess and he knew deep inside that she was hurting. She was different. She was starting to become cruel, not to her people but to those that were once his people. Maximus still remembered the day he was taken from his home and brought to her.