𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 | Ragnar Lothbrok ¹

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

MERCY

   
"King Ecbert will pay the price," Ragnar's words were a menacing threat to Sophie, who stood frozen, caught in a struggle between fight and flight, desperately hoping for someone or something to intervene.

Two words whispered incessantly in the back of her mind like a faint warning: run away. But she couldn't, not when those two glinting blue eyes were fixated on her, momentarily making her wonder if she had been picturing the devil wrong her whole life.

"Don't be afraid, I won't kill you," he assured. "I have greater plans for you."

Sophie glanced around, perhaps hoping for Athelstan or Queen Aslaug to come to her aid, but they were nowhere to be found, assuming they would have intervened.

She was on her own.

"I took good care of his daughter while he slaughtered my people," Ragnar recounted, his gaze hard on Sophie, who maintained a rigid posture. "Tell me, Sophie, what am I supposed to do now?"

"We can fix this," was all she could manage to say. The truth was she wasn't sure if anyone could mend what had been broken. Never had her father made such a grave error, and this time she knew it would cost him dearly.

"My people thirst for blood," King Ragnar declared. "We're Vikings, it's our way."

"There has to be another way," Sophie urged, attempting to keep her voice steady. "You're the king; you can-"

"I'm a Viking king," he interrupted before signalling to someone behind her, prompting Sophie's hand to rest on the sheath of her knife, anticipating whatever was to come next.

She felt two hands seize her, causing her to swiftly spin around and unsheathe her knife, swinging it at her assailants.

It was a potent instinct. Adrenaline poisoned her mind, rendering the man's task almost impossible, as King Ragnar watched his second-favourite Christian fiercely resist. It was a rather entertaining sight.

It didn't take long for another man to join the struggle, aiding his comrade in subduing the defiant girl. They disarmed her, rendering her knife useless, much to Ragnar's slight disappointment.

The two men began dragging her toward a gathering crowd, their faces contorted with murderous intent.

"Princess Sophie," Ragnar called out her name, his voice resonating in the air. She was spun around to face him, still held firmly in place by the two men.

Ragnar sat above everyone on the patio, his sons flanking him, all eyes fixated on her. Not a hint of mercy was shown, especially not from Ubbe, and Ivar couldn't help but grin broadly.

"Why didn't your god protect you?" Ragnar asked, taunting her. "Why did he allow a pagan slave to expose your secrets?" Sophie's eyes followed his gaze, landing on Margrethe, who stood beside Queen Aslaug and Lagertha. Everything suddenly clicked into place.

"Because they are angry at you and your father," Ragnar continued, looking down at a trembling Sophie. "Is there anything you want to say to that?"

"You will pay for this!" Sophie shouted with a shaky voice causing everyone to burst into laughter while she fought the urge to cry. "All of you!"

Ragnar let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand across his face. He then scoffed, motioning to the two men holding Sophie to proceed. "Bring her forward, please," he instructed, and they complied, guiding her until she stood directly below him. He sat up, fixing his gaze on her while she adamantly kept her eyes downcast. "Your people caused our people to suffer... And now, it's your turn to suffer," he declared.

With a casual gesture of his hand, Sophie was once again yanked roughly toward what appeared to be a post. She struggled fiercely, attempting to resist their grip, but her efforts were futile, and that's when she lost control, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I did not do anything!" she shouted in her mother language, the words laced with desperation, as the two men pressed her against the post and proceeded to bind her hands tightly behind her over it.

"Athelstan, please tell him! I did not do anything!" Tears welled up in Sophie's eyes as she pleaded with her sister-in-law's lover to save her. However, Athelstan found himself just as helpless, avoiding her beseeching gaze by staring down at his feet.

Bound to the post, Sophie felt trapped, her fear palpable as if she were a cornered and terrified animal. The accusing gazes bore into her, accompanied by a barrage of scornful words, yet she was rendered speechless and powerless. Despite her desperate desire to defend herself, she couldn't find her voice. It was a harrowing isolation, leaving her feeling utterly alone in that moment.

"Death to the Christians!"

"Death to the Christians!"

The Pagan chants resounded in the air, their fervour evident as they began hurling various objects at her. These items clung to her skin, hair, and foul-smelling garments, making her feel filthy and sick to her stomach. Dizziness and teary eyes overwhelmed her, and she was a complete wreck.

The crowd gradually dispersed upon their King's dismissal, leaving him behind for a moment longer. His troubled gaze remained fixed on her, on her imploring eyes seeking mercy—an elusive mercy he could not grant. With a final glance, he rose, following his son Ubbe, who wore a similar troubled expression.

In the face of King Ragnar's unwavering decision, Sophie turned to Aslaug, finding sorrow mirrored in her eyes. As Aslaug walked away, so did her friends Helen and Yelda, leaving Sophie utterly alone.

Fury surged within Sophie, her rage manifesting through unrelenting tears that blurred her vision. She looked downward until the sound of approaching footsteps compelled her to glance up, revealing Athelstan standing beside her.

"Athelstan," she sobbed.

"I'm truly sorry," Athelstan spoke in their native language.

Sophie struggled to quell her sobs as she spoke once more. "Judith still loves you," she told him unsure of why she felt compelled to share this. Perhaps it was because she never had the chance to tell him who she was, who he was—the father of Alfred, the very Alfred she loved as her true nephew.

At that moment, he was left with tears in his eyes. He gently caressed her face before turning away and walking off.