Sands of Time (Hellsing•AU)

Violence at The Inn (14)

•Extreme violence
•Gore

Vlad pulled the horse up, kicked his stirrups loose and slid down the side of the horse. As his feet touched the ground, in a swift motion, he grabbed Ylva from the saddle. She slid so fast, she was forced to grab his shoulders coming down or land hard on the ground.

She was starting to get quite angry with his antics. He had no reason to manhandle her! She had not resisted since being captured. 'Wait, unless he has an "itch" but I am too disgusting to him to fix, not that I would fix that itch anyway.' thought... Let him get 'blue balls' and try to ride the horse back. Serves him right!

Maybe it would make him do a stupid action and she could elude him quickly. Men seem to lose reason when they become too 'horny'. This definitely could be an advantage for her to use.

Vlad put Ylva in front and shoved her through the door, he had just opened. She of course came to a learching stop. There was some laughter from the customers and one man piped up in a loud voice, "I see you have finally come back to get your stuff. The boys and I already have a buyer for the sword."

Vlad then took the moment to reveal it was him behind her but that didn't matter to Ylva. Her body tightened and she stood up straight. She bared her teeth and growled like a wolf. "That is an old family sword, that you don't even have the class, to polish it!"

Ylva entered farther into the room, she would need the room to do combat in. She eyed her sword pommel sticking out of a leather shoulder bag. It was fifteen feet away and the men were in her way. She knew Vlad was standing behind with an arming sword at his waist. She slowly spun around, with pretend tears pooling in her eyes and looked him in the eyes. Her left hand settled in the middle of his chest palm open.

'She was going to beg for her life' Vlad thought.

Then it happened so quick.

The Prince felt Ylva push hard with her hand resting on his chest and the scraping sound, of a sword being pulled. The motion of pushing off Vlad, freed the sword from the sheath and with a pivot of the waist, the woman sliced the man's windpipe. She continued to turn at the waist as the rest of her body followed the motion. The man leaned forward to grab his throat thinking that it would help reconnect his windpipe. All could be heard was a squeak as the air entered and then was pushed out before entering the lungs.

At the same time Ylva raised her arms, left hand on the hilt of the one handed knight arming sword and right hand cupped over the left. Vlad held his breath, as the sword came down and with such force, sliced through the point of the shoulder and stopped in his abdominal cavity. The man was dead and stood only because the woman had not cleared his body from Vlad's sword. She leaned a little back and raised her foot to shove the dead man off the sword.

Ylva now raised the Prince's arming sword to examine it. She looked down the blade, flipped it over and then studied the blood ril. It was a well made sword and she let a small smile across her lips. It was a style of sword the Norse used with shields. She knelt down and cleaned the blade with her ill fitting dress. When she felt it was clean enough, she pivoted to face the Prince and raised the sword high in her hands with a bowed head. She never looked up but when the sword's weight left her hands, finished the bow. Her freed hands grasped her long, now blood stained hair and pulled it over her head to reveal her exposed neck. It was going to hurt as the floor didn't make such a great chopping block. It may take the Impaler King two or three chops to lop her head from her body.

Decapitation was honorable and only the most worthy were allowed, decapitation by sword.

Ylva closed her eyes and did controlled breathing, her hands fisted in her hair and clenched hard. The wait was terrible and she just wanted him to hurry up!

She finally heard the sound of the sword moving through the air and soon her head would be rolling on the floor. She had seen executions enough to know what happened. Her head didn't roll off at all, the blade stopped and settled across her, where the neck enters at the shoulders. She felt Vlad slightly twist the sword as to only leave a partial deep cut across. She choked on her spit so as not to scream from the pain, but the cut was far from deadly if kept clean. As for her, it would heal quicker than humanly possible.

The Knightly Prince walked around her prone body and headed for her supposed leather bag. She took in a huge breath, as one does from being underwater too long and gasped, her adrenaline was racing.

She had to get out of the inn now!

Ylva threw the door open and ran a little ways from the establishment. Her whole body shook and she started to bite her lips viciously. Her eyes had a glazed look but she was fully aware. She was entering 'tunnel vision' and fought to keep the bloodlust from taking over. Ylva fought it hard, as usually you simply let the bloodlust roll and go berserker. Now was not a good time to be an Úlfhéðnar, with the King of Impalement around.

Vlad strolled out of the inn expecting the woman to be in a daze or on her knees crying. She was going to beg for mercy. Very few things made Vlad's blood run cold anymore but the sounds coming from the woman were horrendous. She was standing hunched over and fists clenching and unclenching. It sounded like some animal was trying to climb out of Ylva's body. All of the sounds stopped suddenly except for heavy breaths and her body still shaking slightly.

The woman finally, slowly, turned. Her hair was disheveled and blood with drool, ran down her lips and on top of her dress. The Prince knew that look all too well, the pull of bloodlust and not able to quench its thirst. When he thought it was safe enough, as he had just seen her dispatch a large man with his sword, he approached. She didn't lift her head and just let the blood stained hair, be a curtain to hide her face. Ylva just waited for the Prince to do what he was going to do now.

Vlad lifted her downed head and stared into those deep green eyes, like emeralds. She was not crying like most women or wailing to be spared. She had killed a man in cold blood and stood to accept her punishment. He slid her leather bag off his shoulder and handed it to her.

"The sword stays with me until I am sure your blood rage is completely gone. I am being quite lenient to you already..." Vlad stated quietly. "Let us go."

Ylva followed along, behind the Prince.

He waited for her to mount the horse and then he followed up, landing just behind the saddle. It is not a comfortable spot but he wanted to show her, he now had a dash of respect for her. Ylva made sure the Prince was well placed on the horse, though confused as to why she had the saddle and was controlling the horse. The young woman was going to make sure the horse didn't spook or buck. She didn't want to be the one to explain why Prince Vlad Ţepeş no longer had functioning "family jewels".

"Let those who do not understand me,
Fear me."

"Let those who do understand me
Fear themselves."
~ Ivar the Boneless