Ghost • Klaus Mikaleson

18. Blood Eagle

It was a hell of a way to die.

The drums were being played the song of death. Fires and torches were being held by the people who were decorated in braids and fur coats. Skulls were arranged to form an aisle toward the wooden platform the prisoner was on.

His blonde matted hair hung in his face as he was kneeling on the wooden platform be looked upon like a wild animal with a deadly reputation. The crowd remained inaudible, the only thing that could be sensed were the executioner's steps behind the so-called ruthless victim.

"Thring." His voice echoed in his head full of guilt. His voice went in like an icy blade forged by giants. "You have been sentenced to death."

Thring, the guilty victim of this execution gave a low rumbling grunt, that came deep in from his chest. He spoke none, not regretting what he has done for his family. He could feel the gazes his brother and nephew, Fridleif were giving him.

Thring looked out to the crowd in hopes to feel the rush that would always come to him when he gazed upon her clear eyes and dark blonde hair. He knew he wouldn't have to look far, knowing she would be nearly on the block with him. Their eyes met for a brief second before Thring had to look away, in shame. He knew he had failed as a man.

"You have raided us, burned our crops, and tried to take my wife and daughter from me!" The executioner bellowed. "We are supposed to be allies, friends."

Thring said nothing knowing nothing would change the Viking King's mind. His fate was set because he has failed. The blood eagle would be upon him in only a few moments.

"Do you have nothing to say to this?"

Thring only continued to look at the shieldmaiden named Lagertha that he fought so desperately to have. But her eyes were upon that of her husbands, the executioner; the Viking King. The small girl attached to Lagertha's hip looked into his eyes that looked so similar to hers.

"You will speak!" The Viking King, Ragnar screamed. "You will tell me why!"

Thring held a small smile on his face, as the Ragna, the King's daughter, his biological daughter looked up at him great concern. It was at the moment he realised she would measure up to something significant. He was just flustered that he wouldn't be there to see it.

"Do it already brother,"Thring spoke in a hushed tone.

"I am no brother of your's," Ragnar growled.

Lagertha patted the young girl's shoulder afraid that she and Thring's daughter would become afraid of the gore that was about to come. But Ragna couldn't peel her eyes off of the scene of her father Ragnar and her Uncle Thring.

"You do know what execution we kings get don't you?" Ragnar asked.

"Do it."

Ragnar smirked before picking up the sword that was in his belt. "You have betrayed us Thring Lothbroke! You have brought shame to your people and our family!" With his final words, Ragnar brought the sharpened blade down on his back, but not hard enough to fully penetrate his body.

Thring winced in pain as Ragnar began skinning the back of the flesh on his body, cutting through tissue and muscle, until his spine and ribs were displayed.

Thring began silently crying as he prayed to the Gods for his immediate end. He shuddered as he could hear the flesh being cut away from his body that once carried a village.

Lagertha watched the man who loved her and the real father of her child die the slowest painful deaths one could ever come to face. She remained calm, knowing that Ragnar had no idea of the affair and the real parentage of her beloved daughter Ragna.

Ragnar then began to cut away at his ribs, causing him to scream out in pain. Ragnar was covered in blood as it leaked through the giant opening on Thring's back. He began hacking allowing his blood to splatter everywhere, including Ragnar. Thring, seeing the sight of his daughter covered in his blood brought the most damage on him.

Thring soon became limp but very much conscious of his surroundings. He could hear his bones being hacked upon he being thrown on the wooden platform he was on. He could feel the blood leave his body, he had never felt more vulnerable.

Lagertha watched with a small frown as Ragna reached deep in Thring's ribless back pulling out a chief organ needed to survive, his lungs.

Thring's head hung low and he soon began to choke up the blood. His body felt tense, he no longer could breathe without the lungs that were pulled from his body. Soon he felt the sticky, warm, dense feeling. He imagined they would feel like this, maybe a little heavier. Ragnar placed his lungs upon his back, making it look like a pair of wings.

Thring became grey as blood poured from his back and mouth, but that didn't stop him from looking at his daughter one last time.

She looked upon her known uncle with an expressionless face. She was not filled with any emotion. She didn't look away from the bloody scene in front of her like a normal small child would do. She kept her head up and looked in the face of a dying man, her dying biological father.

Soon death came over Thring, and he became limp upon his pedestal. Ragnar threw his tools down to the ground and looked gazing upon the sky only to be met with a soaring eagle above them, flying around the deathly scene.

"Ragna, magical things can happen even in death," Lagertha whispered to her daughter, not daring to take her eyes off of her husband and eldest son. "Don't let the death effect you that much, it's all a part of life."

Ragna looked up at her mother with a small frown. Lagertha sighed and began to wipe the blood off of her face. "But something tells me you already knew that didn't you?"

Ragna nodded as here eyes gazed upon a woman standing by the platform. Her skin was a sickly pale, and her face shrunken in, exposing her high cheek bones. Her hair was no more, as it was thin and white. This woman looked like a dead woman. Her eyes were attached to Ragna with curiosity , but she was there for one job only. That was to collect the dead.

The eagle that appeared in the sky after the execution swooped down and it transformed into Frig, who was now standing by the sickly women. Ragna with her blue eyes looked at her real father once more before a cloud of smoke dissolved him and the women.

Ragna remained calm, looking around. She sensed no other person saw what she saw. In that moment, Ragna knew she was different, and that she always would be.