"An eye for an eye. A knife for the ribs. It is only fair."

chapter IX, final act ✧ 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆

the raspy sound that left her throat, one armored man ran to her, blade pointed towards the sky.

Spit fell from her mouth when she laughed at the scene. Following her instincts, she ducked and tackled the man, her knives digging into his back with her dangerous embrace as their bodies collided with the hard floor.

Two down. Five more to go.

She indeed appreciated how they were taking turns.

Nero gathered herself and managed to get on all fours, pulling her knives out of the corpse and cracking her knuckles.

Without warning, another warrior sprinted to her. Looking at him move from the corners of her eyes, the wolf picked at her nails and hurled her knife. Her precision impeccable as it found its way right in the bridge of his nose.

Three down. Four more to go.

Her head tilted up and found the glare of a man who stood just in front of her, with a sweet smile she stood up.

His eyes followed her every movement as her chest touched his. The Christians could swear her presence made the air around seem almost suffocating. They felt absolutely unable to move, fear was striking them in ways they never thought possible.

Slowly, she reached to cup his cheek, underneath the heavy, iron helmet. Odin, how she hated those things. Once her warm, bloodied hand touched his face, the man leaned into her, almost entranced by the touch. Shaking her head slowly and making a 'tsk'ing sound, she brought her other hand underneath his chin, completely digging her dagger into his head.

Four down. Three more to go.

As the corpse she held fell into her arms, she retrieved his sword. The girl swung her newly acquired weapon over her shoulder, opening one of her arms and daring the fighters to come at her.

Roaring, the biggest of the warriors charged at her. His built physique made her tremble, if he was to get the first blow, she would be done for. With a sharp intake of breath, the girl turned on her feet, her arms swinging the sword at the running man's neck as, who surprised by her move, brought down his own blade.

In the midst of all confusion and blood, Nero fell to the floor along with her enemy's head. Her arms strained of all energy as she made a clean cut through his neck.

Yet not all blood was his. In his death and shock, he lowered his weapon, striking her left outer thigh. As her knees hit the hard stone floor, the other two Christians seized the opportunity to flee.

"I'm Ivar the Boneless! You can't kill me!" her husband's voice seemed to echo in her ears. How she had missed the sound.

Her head shot up, eyes gleaming dangerously, a smirk playing on her lips as she for a brief moment forgot what he had done. In a bloodlust induced trance, she crawled to her shaking feet, using the sword that laid on the floor by her for support.

Soon after, Ubbe's warcry was heard. It was time. Ignoring the searing pain in her leg, she tried her best to run, thanking the gods for the blade to not have ended her ability to walk.

Still using her makeshift walking stick, she followed the grunts that indicated bloodshed. As soon as she turned a corner that led to the center of York, she saw the battle.

The wolf's smile widened and she skimmed through her people and her enemies until her eyes fell upon the one Christian who seemed to fight more fiercely than all others. Athelwulf wasn't the leader.

This man was.

She raised her head high and held onto his glare, straightening her back.

A pity, really, he could be famous and loved by the Viking Gods if he wasn't so set on defending his spineless one.

"There are wolves who fight among sheep," she barked at her warriors, urging them on, "and there are wolves who fight among wolves!" her voice thundered against the walls of the stone cabins that surrounded all.

Ubbe and Hvitserk, from their posts, roared at her words, making all Vikings roar along. The Christians were drowning in fear, their bones freezing over. Nero's eyes not for a mere moment left the bishop.

Nobody touched any of them. The two were meant for each other. They were meant to tear each other's limbs apart.

She threw her head back, exposing the silky skin of her neck. The man-made no effort to reach her, his fear amused her, angered her, "Lidet er om den mans vrede, som ingen vurder."

If you cannot bite, never show your teeth.

Heahmund was staring at the Devil's eyes, and he was determined to finish what his God had started. At her cursed words, in her cursed language, his body responded. He had to finish what his God had started.

Their weapons clashed and but they finally found worthy opponents. None of them got the upper hand until Nero locked her sword with his and threw both of their blades to the ground.

She would not win that fight without a blade.

Cursing, she unsheathed her last knife, the one she never dared to use in war. In a daze, her hand followed her gut and she aimed the blade at her opponent's forehead, but this time, he took her by surprise.

The Saxon, with a sharp breath and clenched lids, wrapped his gloved fingers around the sharp end of her knife, blood seeping through and with agility and strength, drove the not-so-dull end inside the wolf's eye.

At last, the Christians were successful. What one had not been able to do many years before, had now been done. The followers of the spineless god had blinded her.

Nero's knife had turned against her in war. Such omen wouldn't go by unnoticed, such omen would never mean good, could never mean good. Baffled at her gods for such doing, she refused to give up. Her body trembled as her last strand of adrenaline kicked in.

Saliva pooled inside her mouth.

She tilted her face down and with her performing eye, she watched blood and spit drip to the floor.

Recovering from the blow somehow, she elbowed Heahmund's stomach, who had been standing close to her claiming victory. Unforgivingly, she pulled away and raised her knee, her vision fully blurred as she allowed herself to trust her instincts and only her instincts to guide her.

Breathing in, she kicked and her strike made the man fall to the ground, she had managed to properly aim her kick.

The bishop, completely baffled at the fact that she was still fighting, allowed his faith in his God to falter for a second. How could she, with a dagger dug in her eye, still stand? Once again, there was only one reason for such and all other Vikings knew of: she was blessed in war.

His back made contact with the floor and she wasted no time in standing over him, placing her left foot over his chest and pressing down, his gasps for air seemed to drown out all other sounds.

She suddenly leaned down. Tilting her face from one side to the other dangerously, graciously. As she neared him, so did the sharp edge of the dagger that stuck to her, she seemed partially unfazed. Gods knew how much pain she would be in once she realized the damage.

Her unharmed eye was sunken into its socket, it's usually bright green replaced by a dull brown.

Her skin looked whiter than possible, her undertones were not the 'lively' reds or yellows, but leaned on the blues.

Her hair was no longer black but crimson. It was hard to tell if that was good or bad in the midst of it all.

Now the wound... the wound couldn't be described as anything but gross.

Her eyelid was completely pushed inside her head along with the butt of the dagger. Her eye socket had swollen to the point that it looked to have swallowed part of the material inside.

Blood and tears and sweat gathered in the crevices of the wound and trailed down her chin and onto the tip of the knife.

That was the devil. Had to be. That was no human and Heahmund was fucking terrified.

He clenched his eyes shut and hoped she would disappear, she made no sound, no movement. The only indicator of her presence was the blood that dripped from the dagger to his forehead, slowly, one drop at a time.

He for a moment thought of asking for death. Nero was no longer Nero at that moment, there was no wolf, there was only evil and power. Maybe one of her gods helped her as her hands found their way to his neck and she pressed down.

Just as quickly as it came, whatever had helped left, and her mind went completely blank. Adrenaline was gone. The wound had finally kicked in.

Nero's dark strands hung loosely from her braid. Her skin got even paler... and paler. Her eyes... eye that once held fury now held... nothing, emptiness.

Noticing she wouldn't be able to finish the man off, she shakily stood.

Her upper body leaned back and she was standing in a curved backward position. The sight was sickening, something out of nightmares. Something not reserved for human eyes.

Her legs held off. As people fought, dust specks floated around harmlessly, fogging the vision of all which bled and made bleed. The buildings around seemed to disappear, no one cared about the heavy stone-built cabins that encircled them.

She fell back and the sounds were drowned. Her form seemed anything but angelic. Her fall was cushioned by her braid, her head tilted to the side as a small pool of blood formed. Her features surprisingly were soft... relaxed.

𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔, 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓-𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆...

Yep, it is over, I am very sorry if you believe this ended abruptly, but at the end of the day, it is my fic, and I thought it was rather suitable to end it this way. Life unfortunately, does not always have happy endings, but the journey can be happy!

I am very glad you read up until here, you have a very dear place in my heart! Thank you for supporting me.