Chapter 13: Power born of Desire

"You are getting soft in your age." Had it been anyone else who spoke those words to him, Ragnar would have had their tongues ripped out and then flayed them alive. But in this instance, he just snorts.

"I believe the skulls and trophies I've collected speaks otherwise, old friend," he countered as he poured himself another horn of ale. Opposite him, his oldest companion Halfdan sneered.

"That is not what I mean, and you know it." Then he leaned forward until he was almost eye to eye with his jarl. "That girl, why have you not claimed her already?"

A frown appeared on Ragnar's face, one he quickly hid behind a lazy smile as he leaned back in his chair with an air of nonchalance about him. "Come now, even you must know that love does not work like that. Time and patience are key to winning a woman's heart."

The sneer only got worse on Halfdan's face. "Do not act as if love ever mattered to you. It is her blood, not her heart, you desire."

Ragnar said nothing as he drank from his horn. Truly, Halfdan had grown comfortable in his role as Ragnar's right-hand man and brother in all but blood, for few others would have dared question him so brazenly. Ragnar still remembered those few times in the past where others of the tribe challenged his word, and how those encounters all ended. Even now, he felt his arm twitch as it desired to reach for the sword hanging from his belt.

But he restrained himself and just smiled. Halfdan was a loyal beast, bereft of personal ambition and content to live in Ragnar's shadow. His words, harsh though they may be, came from a desire to advice rather than challenge.

"You are right, of course. It is not Raven herself I desire, but rather what her body may offer me," he admitted.

"Then just claim her already and be done with it. If she proves too unruly in bed, the rope and the whip could surely tame her as easily as any other beast of burden."

Ragnar could not help but shake his head. Loyal he may be, but painfully short-sighted sometimes. "You seem to forget who we are talking about. She is not some mere thrall to mount when my loins stir, but a prized gift with the blood of Daemons coursing through her veins. That is not someone you break at the end of a whip, but someone you entice."

Halfdan's sneer remained, but he leaned back as well. "You treat her far too gently, and the tribe sees this. She's an outsider, and already her beliefs are affecting life in the village. Many are displeased by this."

Now there was nothing hiding Ragnar's frown. That had been an unpleasant surprise about the young sorceress, to have such a strong aversion to not only thralls, but the Norscan way of life. She hid it well, and cleverly disguised her outbursts of compassion as anger at perceived cowardice. But at the end of the day, that was what it still was.

Compassion.

She cared for strangers she had never met before, and tried to protect sniveling wrecks that rightfully served their betters in exchange for life. Signs of weakness that had no place in a true Norscan. It did raise questions about her past, for what manner of half daemon could ever be raised as anything less than the apex predator of her community? More worrisome than that however was the views of the tribe on the matter.

"How bad has it gotten?" he asked as he massaged his brows.

"There are whispers of you being unfit to lead, that this weak southerner has poisoned your mind and made you soft," Halfdan answered, and Ragnar could not help but snort.

"I would hardly call her a southerner, old friend."

Halfdan just shrugged. "She's not a Norscan, and she despises the Old Ways. To the tribe, she's little better than a southerner."

Despite his best efforts, Ragnar could not stop a second sigh from escaping. "In any case, the fact that there are only whispers shows that they at least still remembers who they are dealing with." Then a thoughtful look came across his face. "Perhaps a raid or two will serve to placate them? It's been a while since our warriors got to wet their blades in true combat."

Halfdan shook his head. "That will only delay things, not stop it. Until you put that woman in her place, the tribe's discontent will grow."

A quick bark of laughter erupted out of Ragnar, causing him to spill some of his ale. "So quick to tempt fate, are they? Come, great jarl, take the whip and lash a sorceress with the blood of daemons in her veins, surely mortal muscles will triumph against the wrath of Chaos made manifest!" then his visage turned decidedly dark. "I know the prize I am after, but I also know the cost of failure."

"Or at least you think so," Halfdan interrupted, to Ragnar's great surprise.

"What?" was the most eloquent response he could formulate.

"You speak of this girl as if she possessed some great and terrible power that we stood no chance against, that would swallow us whole should we ever dare to challenge her," Halfdan began, fingers interlocked under his chin. "But where is this power? When has she ever shown herself to be little more than an ashen-skinned girl playing at Godspawn?"

That actually caused a growl to rumble out of Ragnar's chest. "Are you suggesting that I've been played for a fool? That her vaunted power does not exist?"

Halfdan was completely unapologetic in his verdict. "It is a possibility."

Again Ragnar felt his hand drifting towards his blade before he restrained himself. Lashing out at his friend like a spoiled child would not make the words go away, no matter how much he desired otherwise.

"You give me too little credit. Such meager attempts would not work on me," he assured him instead. To Ragnar, it simply was not possible. It could not be possible. Her power was real, and the destiny she promised him had to be real as well. It had to.

"Pardon the interruption, great jarl," a new voice suddenly began, right before the ever enigmatic old man that had begun haunting the village as of late hobbled into view. "But I come bearing grave news."

Ragnar already had an icy feeling in his guts. "Then out with it."

"Your honored guest Raven has been stolen," the old man answered. Ragnar instantly rose from his seat with such force that it sent his chair flying back.

"WHAT?!" his roar could have woken the dead, not that he cared as he snatched up his sword and began storming towards the door. Halfdan quickly fell in line behind him, silent and far more composed than his jarl.

"Who dares to challenge my authority in such a blatant manner?!" Ragnar demanded of the old man, who somehow managed to keep pace with the furious jarl.

"Your rival Rollo. He lingered in the neighbouring woods long after he should have left and caught Raven when she was alone and vulnerable." Ragnar did not even slow down from the old man's revelation, but he did launch into a lengthy tirade of Norscan curses.

"I should have known that old snake was up to something when he came here!" by the time Ragnar's sentences were coherent again, he had already left the longhouse and was making his way towards the gates.

Then he paused to send a glare at Halfdan. "Summon as many warriors as you can in short notice! We cannot allow them to get away!"

"By your will," Halfdan answered before rushing off. And that allowed Ragnar to spot someone else to direct his rage towards.

"You," he snarled as he stalked over to the silent guardian lurking in the shadow of the longhouse. As always, he gave not even the faintest inclination to being aware of his presence.

"I thought your task was to protect her, yet here you stand by yourself. Is that incompetence or cowardice I see?" Ragnar asked with a sneer deforming his face. But the guardian did not as much as flinch at the accusation. Infernal man.

"Perhaps it would be better to save your rage for Rollo and his miscreants?" the old man suggested, and Ragnar was sorely tempted to make him a head shorter. Again though, he stayed his hand. Rollo might be insane enough to gamble with the Gods' wrath, but he was not.

"Do you at least know where they went?" he asked of the old man, and took a wary step back when that infernal white bird returned and landed on the old man's shoulder. Ragnar could not explain this feeling he had, but somehow he had the sense that this bird was more than just some clever pet of the old man.

A fact made all the more obvious by the way the thing was cawing in the man's ear, and yet he was nodding along as if engrossed in a deep conversation.

"As a matter of fact, I do." The old man announced with a satisfied smile. "Though I reckon we need to hurry. Rollo's already got a head-start on us."

Ragnar scowled. "I know that already. But you better be able to keep up with us out there in the wilderness. We can ill afford to have you carried along like an invalid."

The old man's smile sent a chill up Ragnar's spine. "Worry not, mighty jarl. I may be old, but these bones can still carry me onward for many more years."

That assurance did little to put Ragnar's mind at ease, but he chose not to make more of it as he stalked towards the village gates, where a small band was already beginning to congregate as word spread.

Men saluted him as he approached, many shouting oaths of vengeance or promises of victory to show their enthusiasm. Ragnar barely heard them, his mind whirling with dark and foreboding thoughts. I have to get her back, no matter what.

This was more than a loss of face among his tribesmen, more than just showing weakness to other rivals by allowing a prized guest to be snatched out from under his nose. Fuck, this was more than the insufferable beast Rollo striking at him again.

This was his destiny, his very legacy, that was now at stake. He was to be the founder of a bloodline greater than any other, the deeds of not only him but that of his sons being carved into the pages of history in blood. And now that glorious future was at risk of being lost to him forever, and he would not allow it.

Raven is mine, you fucking bastard, mine and mine alone. I will kill anyone that dares try to steal her from me. My destiny will not be denied. I will not be denied!

When they came to take her, Raven fought with all she had. Every step of the way, she fought, refusing to yield all the way to the bitter end and beyond. It was just a shame that without her powers, her acts of bravado amounted to little more than a kitten hissing at a tiger. She left plenty of scratches and bite marks, maybe even succeeded in gouging out an eye, and she had the taste of blood that was most certainly not her own in her mouth.

Rollo and his men had literally laughed at the whole thing before numbers and brute strength brought her down. And now here she was, tossed over Rollo's shoulder like a sack of potatoes with her arms and legs firmly tied up. The rage she felt from this humiliation was powerful enough to drown out any traces of fear she might have otherwise felt.

And this was made all the worse by the sight she was forced to see every step of the journey. Rollo and his thugs had not been content with just Raven, they had also taken the poor girl. She had been no threat to them, and yet still a handful had taken to chance to kick and punch her until she had been curled up crying in the snow.

Now they had the poor thing, tied and leashed like an animal, firmly secured via rope to a marauder's belt as she was forced to trudge along after them lest they simply drag her along the ground. Black thoughts entered her mind whenever she saw the sorry state she was in.

"You'll pay for this," she hissed at Rollo, who for his part merely chuckled.

"You know, for a powerful witch with the blood of Daemons in your veins, you sure do a lot of barking," he taunted. And even though her position on her shoulder only gave her a view of his backside, she just knew that the bastard was smirking at her. "Well go ahead then, strike me down with your immense power for daring to lay my filthy hands upon your magnificent self."

That last challenge was accompanied by a firm slap on her ass, an act which had her letting out a very much startled yelp, to the great amusement of the warband. Raven could feel her cheeks burning with mortification even as she ground her teeth together with such force that you might think she was trying to grind them to dust.

"Nothing to say to that, do you? Hah! And here Ragnar was making a great spectacle of the mighty Raven, she who spawned from the realm of the Gods themselves." Then he suddenly jostled her about, causing metal from his shoulder pad to dig painfully into her stomach. "And yet what do I see? A tiny little weakling, hiding behind an illusion of power."

If she had been able to, she would have spit right in his face. "Brave talk for one who needed ten to one odds to face me."

That earned her another harsh slap to her rear, but this time she was ready and kept her mouth shut.

"Mind your tongue, wench. You're no longer under Ragnar's protection," he growled at her, but she just smiled at his tone.

"Struck a nerve?" her cheek only brought another slap, one hard enough that she could not quite suppress a hiss of pain.

"I see though that your tongue is still as sharp as ever. I'll allow it to run its course, but only so you'll understand what a grave mistake it is to raise my ire once we are back home," he warned.

"Confident you'll make it home." At this point, she really did not care if her thick accent was heard, she was just spitting word after word at this brute. It was all she really could do at this point.

"Fortune favors the bold, little one. And I have been bold indeed, and plan to be bolder still." Something in his tone made Raven's skin crawl, and she suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

"What? Talk me to death?" she snarked at him, trying to not only hide her own anxiety but also provoke a response from him. She was not to be disappointed in that last regard as she was met with a booming laugh.

"Oh, let me assure you. By the time we are done, you'll wish that was what I intended to do to you," he answered, a hand once again landing on her rump. But this one lingered to squeeze and pinch at her flesh through her clothing, accompanied by the jeers and laughter of the other marauders.

Where before her face had burned with mortification at the humiliating treatment, now it turned paler than even her usual complexion as the implication sunk in. Unbidden, images of another appeared in her mind, a beauty unlike anyone else she had ever seen, marred by the naked lust and malice in his eyes as he reached for her and-

With a growl more akin to an animal, Raven renewed her struggles, trashing about for all that she was worth. Rollo merely laughed at that and tightened his hold on her.

"Well, that certainly lit a fire in your soul! Good, wouldn't be any fun if I only brought a piece of limp meat to my bed," he mocked, hand still groping her buttocks.

"Try it. I'll bite your cock off," she snarled at him, pouring all the hate and vitriol that she could into each and every word.

"HAH, that's the spirit! Haven't had a feisty woman like that in ages! I will thoroughly enjoy every moment breaking that spirit of yours." At that moment, all thoughts of moral and righteousness faded away from her mind. The ideals of not only Azerath, but the Titans as well vanished into the darkest recesses of her mind.

When she spoke again, she did it with absolute conviction, fully intending to honor those words no matter what. Even though they stood against everything she believed in.

"Not if I kill you first."

This time, there was no laughter from the marauders, no jeers or lewd comments. This time, there was only silence, as many a nervous look was shared among them. Some even taking a few steps away from her.

"What? A few words from a measly wench and suddenly you're all shaking in your boots like unbloodied whelps?" Rollo barked at them, incensed by their behavior.

"Clearly, they have more sense," Raven snarled at him, expecting another blow to land. This time however, she found herself hoisted off his shoulder and hurled to the ground face-first. Barely had she managed to spit out mouthfuls of snow before a steel-tipped boot slammed into her stomach with enough force to flip her over and leaving her gasping for breath.

"I did warn you, but clearly you are quite eager to begin your tutoring in matters of pain." Those words were accompanied by another kick which had Raven gnashing her teeth together to stop the desire to puke. You won't get that satisfaction from me, you sick fuck.

"What? That all?" she sneered up at him. His boot was raised again, and then Raven's vision was only darkness and pain for a short moment. Then the eyesight was back, but she now had trouble seeing out of her left eye.

"Have anything else you would like to add, oh mighty Godspawn?" Rollo mocked, but Raven did not even need her empathic powers to see the fury just barely hidden behind his current veneer. That alone was enough for her to give him the biggest grin she could muster.

"You hit like a girl." Not her best comeback, to be fair, but it did the trick. The boot came at her again, and now Raven tasted blood in her mouth.

"Just let me know when you've had enough," the three Rollos in her vision spoke to her. Only when they all solidified into a single detestable being again did she open her mouth again.

"I can do this all day." I've definitively spent way too long around Beast Boy. At least that was her own assessment. After all, it was the only explanation why she of all people would think further provoking the guy beating her to within an inch of her life was a good idea.

This time, there was no verbal response from Rollo, just a darkening of his features as he hoisted her up with but a single hand clamped around her throat. She flailed about like a fish caught on a hook, eyes wide in panic as he squeezed her throat. Breathing became hard, and her vision grew dark at the edges.

The pressure suddenly lessened and her back was slammed up against a tree with enough force that a pained gasp escaped her throat. A gasp which turned into a wheeze when she doubled over a fist slammed into her stomach. Then rough fingers were grabbing onto her scalp and yanking her up to stare into Rollo's furious eyes.

"Just beg for mercy, and it will end," he promised, trying to smile even as it felt like he was trying to rip her whole scalp off. Raven just coughed and wheezed, unable to form a reply as she fought to bring precious oxygen back into her lungs. But not once did her own glare of defiance lessen. I've faced bigger things than you, tough guy.

Rollo just scoffed. "Let it not be said that I never gave you the chance to back down." Then the fist slammed into her face again, sending her skull bouncing back against the tree before another blow struck her stomach. This time, there was no holding it back as a mixture of vomit, bile and blood erupted out of her mouth.

But even though her vision refused to stay still, she still had enough awareness to aim straight at Rollo's face. She was promptly hurled aside, bouncing across the ground until coming to a painful stop on yet another tree. Her whole body ached, it was becoming harder to keep her eyesight focused, and she dry-heaved from the vicious blow to her guts.

And yet she still managed to smile at Rollo.

"Looks… good on you," she wheezed out before giving a quick chuckle which swiftly turned into a pained groan when it only aggravated her already tenderized body. Even with her shoddy vision, she could still see that Rollo was now absolutely apoplectic.

"You'll deeply regret that," he vowed before turning to his men. "Hold her down."

After such a beating, she had not the strength to even put up a token resistance, so all she did was hiss and spit at the pair of Marauders that stepped up to press her firmly down into the snow.

"Too wild for you?" she sneered with only half her face visible, the other slowly turning numb from being buried in snow. But Rollo just scoffed before gesturing towards one of his men. Raven's blood turned to ice in her veins when that gesture was accompanied by a female shriek before the girl was hurled at Rollo's feet with a bleeding mouth.

"Since you're so eager to see the full extent of my capabilities, how about I show you some of them first before you decide to crave more?" His intent became all the clearer when he drew a vicious and jagged knife, one big enough that it could almost be called a shortsword. Raven saw red.

"Don't you dare touch her!" her struggles renewed, almost managing to throw off her two captors with a burst of strength they had obviously not expected. But that only lasted for a brief moment before they pressed down on her again, using sheer bodyweight to overpower her petite frame.

Yet that did nothing to stop her struggles, not matter how much her abused body screamed painfully in protest. But her sudden outburst caught Rollo's attention again, as he turned away from the girl and faced Raven again. Four quick strides, and he was in front of her yet again.

"I've killed men and women for decades now, and I've seen plenty of people at their lowest just before death." Crouching down, he gently dragged the tip of his knife against her cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood though, but it still caused Raven to freeze up.

"Most simply beg for their lives, bargaining with whatever they can to save themselves. As if that would make a difference in the end," he continued with his little monologue as he stared deeply into Raven's one good eye, other too swollen to be of much use. And Raven met that stare head-on, refusing to flinch even when the knife drifted dangerously close to her eye.

"Then there are people like you and me, who are unafraid of death and dare to defy it to the bitter end." If it had been his finger rather than his knife currently caressing her face, Raven would have bitten it then and there.

"We're nothing alike," she sneered at him, a reaction that deeply amused him based on his vicious smile.

"We have similarities, that is all." Then he stood back up again, idly twirling his knife between his fingers. "But you're the weak one in the end. Why?"

Now he turned to fully face the other girl again. "Because you care for someone else besides yourself."

Then he began to advance on her, knife brandished with obvious intent. Raven screamed as she fought like a woman possessed to break free. She may as well have been trying to push an elephant off her back.

"Leave her alone! I hurt you, not her!" she roared as she tried to angle her head to glare at Rollo. An act made difficult by the hand now grabbing her hair and forcing her head down into the snow.

"Indeed you did, and now I'm hurting you back in the most painful way I can," he answered without even turning to look at her. "I did warn you that you would come to regret it, now you have no one but yourself to blame for exposing such an obvious weakness."

There was no witty comeback this time, no clever retort or scathing remark. Just a furious shriek as Raven feebly struggled under the weight of her captors. Around her, the men laughed at the display, and she could just barely see the young girl quivering in the snow at Rollo's feet.

Terror was written all across her, yet she made no attempt to flee or even fight back. Instead, she just lay there and waited for what would surely be a painful end.

"LEAVE HER ALONE, BASTARD!" Raven roared, but none even bothered to answer her this time. Least of all Rollo, who grasped the girl by the arm and dragged her up.

"Let's start here." Then the knife was slicing into the flesh of her upper arm. Her agonized screams had the marauders cheering their master on, and Raven nearly dislodged her shoulder in a furious burst of energy to break free.

"Hold still, woman, and just enjoy the show," the man above her sneered into her ear, his grip on her wrist and shoulder tightening further. It did nothing to stop her frantic struggles, which only grew as the screams continued.

No, I can't let it happen! I promised I would keep her safe! But no matter how many times she told herself that, it did nothing to stop the screams, nor the pleads for mercy that quickly followed. Tears began welling up in her eyes, and Raven closed her eyes in a vain attempt to stop them.

Not like this! Dammit, not like this! I can't let it happen!

Her heartbeat was like a frantic drum, beating furiously within her chest.

I'm a Titan, a hero! I can't let this keep going!

She reached within herself for any speck of strength to force her tormentors away, to save the young girl.

Damn you, damn you all to hell! What gives you the right to do this?! What makes you think you can get away with this?!

Something dark stirred within her…

You'll pay for this! All of you! I won't let you get away with this! I won't!

Something thought lost, but only deeply buried.

I'll stop you! I don't care what I have to do, I'll make you pay for this!

Then do it.

That was when Raven grew deathly still, and then she opened her eyes again.

All four of them.

Ragnar's legs ached with every step he forced onward, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Yet he cared not for either of these facts and kept going. Ever since he left the settlement, he had been running at full sprint, never slowing down for even a second.

"Keep up, damn you all!" he roared over his shoulder at the small warband he managed to cobble together on short notice, all of whom were just as exhausted as Ragnar. But they had no stake in this beyond the displeasure of their master, and so their will was already failing. Their pace was slowing, and their grumbling increased. At this rate, he would have to make an example out of one of them to instill the proper motivation.

"We cannot keep going like this, lord!" Halfdan, the only one still capable of running and talking, protested. But even that was done with great strain.

"We have to! I will not allow that snake to get away with such an insult as this!" Ragnar fired back, on the cusp of frothing at the mouth. My ambitions will not end like this! I refuse to let it end like this!

"And he won't, we'll make sure of that! But none of us will be any good for a fight as it stands! Rollo will merely kill us all and leave the victor!" Halfdan's words finally managed to burn through Ragnar's red haze just long enough for him to come to a sudden stop. Relieved groans echoed by the dozens behind him as the warband all but collapsed into the snow.

Feeling the terrible burn in his trembling legs, Ragnar finally admitted that Halfdan was right. If a fight broke out, he stood no chance. But that made the rage flare to life again with even greater intensity. So close, and yet he had no choice but to stand idly by and let the enemy slink away for yet another day.

"Damn it." The words were little more than a whisper as he stumbled over to a tree. "Damn it," then there was strength in his voice and fists again as he struck the tree with his fists. "DAMMIT!"

"Calm yourself, old friend. The chase is far from over," Halfdan assured as he too stumbled over as if his feet had been turned to lead.

"Calm?! How can I possibly be calm right?!" spittle went flying from Ragnar's furious roar. "That sniveling worm has stolen from me, and now makes a mockery of my strength by leaving without any kind of challenge!"

Halfdan remained unmoved in the face of his jarl's rage. "There are many miles between here and Fjirgard. Many days out in the wilderness and away from his seat of power. There will be plenty of time to hunt him down and exact vengeance for his many slights."

For a brief moment, something dark and bestial seemed to come over Ragnar. But then, with a few deep breaths, he began to slowly uncoil.

"You're right, of course," he began, voice far more calm and collected than just a few moments ago. "There is still time. All is not lost."

"Indeed it is not, mighty jarl. In fact, victory is already all but assured." And Ragnar was not even surprised by the third voice that interjected into their conversation.

"Truly, old man, you must have a pair of wings hidden beneath that cloak of yours to move unseen with such speed," he greeted the blind man as he hobbled out from behind a particularly gnarly and crooked tree.

"Hardly, I simply follow the will of the Gods, and their will lead me exactly where I need to be," the old man answered with a secretive smile that made the hairs on Ragnar's neck stand on end.

"Then what would be the Gods' will now, to have led you into a deadly chase between mortal rivals?" Ragnar asked with an arched brow. The old man's smile only grew at the question.

"Simply to make sure that you do not blunder your way into a massacre." And that answer did nothing to quell Ragnar's concerns.

"Rollo may be a fierce foe, and we may be exhausted, but I would hardly call it a massacre," he protested, if for no other reason than to preserve his pride. But that only made the old man chuckle at him, an act which had him visibly bristling.

"Oh naïve man, Rollo is not the danger tonight," the old man explained with great mirth. And before Ragnar could demand a clarification, the quiet night was broken by a cacophony of screams and shouts in the distance. They were swiftly followed by the unmistakable noise of combat.

"What's going on?" Ragnar demanded, hand resting on his axe and ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Around him, the warband forced themselves back up with wary eyes cast to where the noise was coming from.

"Oh, merely young Raven finally losing her temper, and no doubt educating Rollo on the folly of angering his betters," the old man answered, still smiling. Ragnar did not even wait for the others and took off at a rapid sprint. Behind him, Halfdan was calling his name, but Ragnar cared not. He needed to see what was going on. He needed to.

The closer he came, the clearer the noise of battle became. And judging by the purely male screams coming his way, it was a very one-sided battle. An excitement he had not felt in a long time began bubbling to the surface as he drew ever closer. Is this it? Is this when all my dreams will finally be validated?

Then he burst into an open clearing, and beheld a scene of utter carnage. Norscan marauders, some of the strongest and fiercest warriors to have ever prowled the seas and coastlines of the Old World, lay scattered about like toys thrown by a petulant child in the midst of a temper tantrum. Limbs, and sometimes even spines, were bent in odd angles whilst the shattered pieces of shields and axes laid all around them.

Some still lived, moaning in pain or trying to crawl away. Many others did not, with their broken bodies skewered on tree branches or squashed against rocks. And those were the lucky ones, those that died as a warrior should, still clutching their weapons. Others were not as fortunate, their dismembered corpses lying discarded in the snow to simply bleed out.

And there, at the very epicenter of this massacre, stood Raven.

The once petite young sorceress now loomed overhead at a height that would have even towered over trolls. Her face, once so calm and serene, was now twisted into a visage of rage. A visage made all the more unnatural by the four burning eyes of crimson color.

The cloak she always wore had grown with her, swaying and twitching in a nonexistent wind, with only a pitch black void hiding within its folds. And out of the void came tendrils of darkness, many of them already drenched in blood as they circled the lone man who still stood tall against her.

"So there really was a greater power within you, wench! Let's see if it's greater than the strength of man!" even when surrounded on all sides by those tendrils and facing the full wrath of a Godspawn, Rollo still stood tall with axe in hand and a cocksure grin. Fearless to the very end.

"You want to see my power?" Raven hissed, a distorted voice dripping with malice. "I'll make you choke on it!"

Rollo merely brandished his axe at her. "Come on then, let's not waste more time on words then! Let iron and blood speak for us now!"

Then he rushed at her, bellowing a fierce war cry with his axe raised high. He barely made it three steps before the tendrils descended on him from all sides. And like that, mighty Rollo went from a fearsome warrior to a fish caught in a net. He yelled and struggled with all his known ferocity, but the tendrils binding him were like solid steel and refused to budge so much as an inch.

"I warned you, but you didn't listen." The smile that suddenly grew on Raven's face almost seemed to split her face in half. "Spare the rod, spoil the child."

Rollo opened his mouth to spit some defiant last words back at her, but that only allowed her to ram a tendril into said mouth and down his throat. Then another, and another, and another. Rollo quickly went from simply gagging at the intrusion to literally choking on Raven's power as it forced its way deeper and deeper.

He flailed about, valiantly struggling for precious air, but all it did was provoke a delighted laugh from Raven, her voice barely sounding human that that point.

"That's it! Dance for me, little monkey! Dance!" she jeered as she forced more and more into Rollo. Soon enough, even this mighty man's struggles grew weak, and his insides began to inflate at a rapid pace. Ragnar quickly realized what was about to happen, but was too transfixed to do much else but stand there and gawk.

He was rewarded with a front row seat as Rollo's body finally reached its breaking point and burst like a popped bubble, flinging meat, blood and entrails all across the place. Raven became drenched in the viscera, which had her cackling with joy. So great was the force of Rollo's demise that even Ragnar felt some of it splatter onto his face, but he cared not for such a trivial detail. Nor did he care all that much when Halfdan and the others finally caught up.

"By the Gods…" Ragnar knew not who had muttered those words, but he cared not. He could hear the men muttering behind him, but he cared not. That pathetic thrall he gave to Raven as a gift was cowring in the snow not far from him, face drenched in tears as her whole body trembled in fear, but he cared not. No, all he cared about was the sight before him, of a bloodsoaked Raven towering over all like a Goddess in mortal form, her face split in half by a malicious grin even as her four eyes burned with joy at the carnage around her.

And in that moment, she looked more beautiful than ever before, and he could feel his desire stir once more. Is this what it's like to fall in love?