Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 19: A girl is damaged…

"The Arctic is a truly dangerous place. When we first set sail, young and naive as I was, it was all one big adventure with victory assured. But death lurks in every corner in this inhospitable place. The cold, the weather, the storms. Storms that were, in retrospect, not normal. And let's not even talk about the aggressive fauna. Sometimes I feel the very water itself wanted us dead. But, once again, it would be man itself which would prove to be the most dangerous threat of all."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Tahki had been looking for Sunniva. Though the captain had called for a conference with the expedition members later that day, she had some time left over still for bumming around a bit.

The Kingfisher had been on the move again for a day or two now and, ever since the incident at the Orpheus, Tahki had found herself withdrawing from interacting with the crew or the other expedition members outside of her own family and Sunniva because of what happened to Nymphadora. Truth be told, she had been feeling more and more uneasy on the whole. They were close to the city: Tahki knew it. She felt it. The magic had started to pull on her now and she found it hard to sleep at night because of it. The doctor had given her some potions for it and smoking a little of Nymphadora's 'special stash' mellowed her enough before bed. She only imagined if they'd get even closer the feeling might become overwhelming. It gave the idea of finding the lost city of the ancients a rather frightening dimension.

Thankfully, talking to Sunniva usually calmed her down a tad, even though the Neo-Viking had demons of her own. Tahki found Sunniva sat in the crew lounge, on one of the sofas. The large woman was twisted sideways, eyes pointed at the windows and the snowstorm outside. A snowstorm which hadn't let up for days.

"Ah, there you are!" greeted Tahki. And, for a moment, Sunniva tensed sharply. Her muscles tightened, her jaw gritted and there was a wildness in her eyes. She was a warrior ready for combat, a bow always strung. Though her expression softened into a brief smile of relief quickly enough.

"Whoa there," said Tahki, holding up her hands. "Good people here. Didn't mean to frighten ya, Sunni."

"It is alright," said Sunniva in her accented voice. "I am… ill at ease. There is a fellness in the air."

Tahki took a seat next to her on the sofa, folding in her legs as she leaned against the backrest. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"This snowstorm," said Sunniva while shaking her head. "It's not natural. It's been going on for weeks now, very subtly increasing in power as we travel through it. I fear we are in great danger."

Tahki cocked her head sideways. "I have to ask. Why do the Her… Herska… Hershey… Hersheyprasinner…"

Sunniva threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, Tahki, your pronunciation is atrocious. Herskaprarsynir."

Tahki made a face. "I'd like to hear you try some choice words in the Blackfoot language, thank you very much."

"I apologize," said Sunniva. "You wanted to ask me a question?"

With the wind howling across the bow, a shiver went along Tahki's spine. It was odd. As if the air had gotten colder even though she was sat very much near one of the warmth stones. She shook her head, trying to ignore the feeling. "About your people," she started. "I'm curious why Herskaprarsynir never sail the Canadian Arctic."

"We are currently in the very reason why we do not," said Sunniva. "Our people have been sailing the Arctic since time immemorial. We have sailed, explored and raided coasts as far North as Svalbard and as far south as the Canaries. We travelled to the coasts of the North Americas, be it current day Canada or the States of the United and were the first people from Europe who met your people living along the coastlines. Once we would have no qualms sailing these waters. Until…"

"Until what?"

"Curses started to befall us," said Sunniva. "Our outposts west of Greenland wiped out by draugr. Drakkar disappearing without a trace. Drengr bringing back plagues which wiped out entire villages. Tales of dread Níðhöggr, the dragon, rising from the depths to plague our people. More and more, Loki-spawn forced us to flee from the lands we claimed. It was clear that the gods did not want us to set foot in these lands. Though the great serpent did not follow us further east, we do not wish to stoke his wrath and invite misfortune. For these lands are the seat of Alfheim, the source of all mischief and misfortune."

Tahki rubbed her chin. "Wait… I remember your brother saying that 'we would bring Níðhöggr down on us all' when the Herskaprarsynir captured the Kingfisher."

Sunniva nodded grimly. "My mother had a vision. She explained to us that we needed to intercept a ship… this ship… before it would sail into the Canadian Arctic waters. She spoke that the ship would awaken Níðhöggr and the misery the foul beast would inflict upon our people as its vengeance. She thought it urgent enough to oversee it herself and ordered all clans to provide a drakkar for the chase. My mother wanted the clans to bear witness. And then… she let you go…"

"And banished you," said Tahki.

"The more I think upon it, the less it makes sense," Sunniva shook her head. "Why, after all the doom and gloom she preached, would she suddenly change her mind? Why did she so viciously attack Bellatrix? Why did she say that Hermione would breach the walls of Alfheim? Why would anyone ever go near that accursed place?"

"Alfheim?" asked Tahki. "Is that your term for Hyperborea?"

"You seek the lost city of mages," said Sunniva. "If this is indeed Alfheim, you will find only death and destruction. A second Ragnarok, the fear of which is seared into the mind of very man, woman and child of my people. It is why it surprises me so much that my mother let the Kingfisher go. If it had been up to my brother, you would all have been slaughtered and the Kingfisher scuttled."

"Well, I'm glad it never came to that," shrugged Tahki. "Though… has it ever occurred to you that your mother may have lied about her vision? That she saw something else than she claimed to have seen?"

Sunniva shook her head. "Such deceptions are not honourable and not becoming of one blessed by Odin such as my mother," she replied resolutely.

"Maybe she had reason to," shrugged Tahki.

Sunniva once again regarded the snowstorm outside. "The point is moot. I am here now, I have been shamed and I will join this voyage on whatever path you follow. Even if that path leads to the jaws of Níðhöggr or the horrors of Alfheim."

Curious. Where most wizarding cultures, including her own, spoke of Hyperborea as the birthplace of magic being a city of splendours and luxury where the wizards of old had people current day wizards could only dream of, Sunniva's people described it was a place of horrors steeped in foulness. A place to be feared and avoided to a point that the Neo-Vikings were willing to completely abandon their holdings in the Canadian Arctic. It was a curious contradiction. Tahki was about to continue her line of questioning with she found that Sunniva was staring her in the eyes.

Staring rather… intently. With those piercing blue orbs.

God, Sunniva really was a powerful and beautiful woman with such a striking presence. And yet, there was a great sadness within her. She was a woman whom had lost everything.

Around her neck still dangled the shell-necklace Tahki had given her. "I am glad to have met you," said Sunniva. "It is the one bright spot of my dire predicament. I look forward to our chats. Our friendship means a lot to me. If these are to be my final days, I am glad I could have spent them alongside you."

There was a gentleness to the tall woman's voice which surprised Tahki and, together with that intense stare, made her feel rather… Exhilarated and frightened and everything in between. She didn't know where to look for a moment, with her cheeks feeling red-hot. "Sunni… wow… I…"

Saved by the buzz. Before Tahki could continue her stammering, one of the ship's wasps came flying in. Anchor hovered in front of her, a piece of paper hanging in between his six legs. The paper floated in the air and reshaped into the form of a mouth. The voice of captain Kirk sounded as the mouth started to move. "All expedition members, please report to the passenger deck conference lounge immediately," it said before it folded back into a piece of paper and floated back to the wasp. The wasp immediately took off to find the next expedition member to summon.

"Well, duty calls," said Tahki. "Talk later, Sunni."

Sunniva nodded before resuming her watch through the window, that uneasy posture returning. Meanwhile, Tahki made her way to the conference lounge. Not used all that often for actual conferences anymore as it was the location of the mapping table. The past few weeks, Tahki and Engrim… well, mostly Engrim… had been using the mapping table to plot the course of the ship based on input from Chandra's machines. After plotting the course, it would have been sent to the captain for approval and then sent to the wheelhouse.

The room itself, being at the fore-section of the ship, was long and somewhat narrow, the very edge of the room forming into a tip right behind the figurehead. There were seats around the table, but otherwise the room was sparely decorated. Nymph had once told her that this room and many of the others on the passenger deck could be easily converted into other spaces depending on the type of voyage. As such, there were movable bulkheads stashed on either sides of the room. Light was being let in through windows built into the hull of the ship. Though larger than the portholes of her cabin, they were not as big as the panes of glass in a house would be. This ship was still an icebreaker, after all, and too large a window in the fore section would be a structural weakness. As such, the windows were chest-high and reinforced with large copper rings.

There was, of course, still a snowstorm outside. So it was not as if she could see much through it anyway.

Eleanor, Chandra and Kirk were stood at the table, while Hermione was studying the mapping table closely. Bellatrix, in the meantime, was scribbling in her notebook as usual, likely recording any conversations.

"Ah, and there is our last member," said Kirk. "Miss Black, please take your seat and we can begin."

He waved his hand over the mapping table. Magical energy started to swell and the paper map transformed into a blur of colour. Energy started to rise as Kirk roved over the map with his hand. A three-dimensional image appeared of Price of Wales Island and the Peel Sound, showing accurate heights and even the location of the ship in real time. Some pride swelled in her breast: it was Tahki's people whom had invented this type of magical mapping. By tapping into local lay-lines, it would work as a of radar system. Magic pulses would be sent out, ping against objects and would send a magical pulse back with a different frequency.

Chandra was looking very pleased with herself as she took a pointer and tapped on a small island off the coast of Prince of Wales Island, in a bay surrounded by rocky land tongues.

"We've found the location of the lost city," said Chandra pointing on the map. "Through careful measurement and precise calculations, it is unmistakably on this island. Not only is this island right on top of a massive cross-point of lay-lines, sifting through all the background signatures shows the trace amounts of mundane magic consistent with a magical city, even after ten thousand years."

"The amount of magic flowing through those lay-lines must be staggering," said Hermione.

"No shit," said Tahki. "My entire body is tingling. If it wasn't for the doctor's sleeping potions, I'd be a fucking zombie right now. I think the storm must be related to it too. It's not natural, according to Sunniva."

"I agree with your assessment," said Kirk. "While I haven't sailed the Peel Sound this close to the coast of Price of Wales Island, I've seen my fair share of snowstorms and for one to last this long… let's just say that weather above the Arctic circle is tumultuous and unpredictable. This is not normal."

"You think the city might be causing this?" asked Chandra.

"Weather control would have been an easy feat for the ancient wizards of Hyperborea," said Eleanor. "We are children playing with sticks compared to the wizards of old."

"Perhaps they made a magical weather machine, something like a sanctum stone, only bigger," said Tahki. "Perhaps it went haywire."

"Sheer speculation," Chandra shook her head dismissively. "Which will get us nowhere."

Tahki made a face, pushing back the urge to make a disparaging remark towards Chandra's parentage. Seriously, the woman had been becoming increasingly insufferable with each mile travelled closer to the lost city,

"Regardless," Kirk, ever the diplomat, rubbed his chin. He picked up a pointer of his own and drew a rudimentary course on the map. "That island is in Young Bay, past Pandora island. Quite far off any Arctic shipping routes. Local Inuit always avoid this side of Prince of Wales Island like the bloody plague. In my estimation, we are less than thirty miles away. But don't get too excited yet. Weather conditions are grim and unless it's a particularly warm summer, the waters of Peel Sound are permanently frozen. And it's still winter I might add. We're going to have to fight for every single inch of those last thirty miles."

"Thirty miles… away from the birthplace of wizardkind," said Bellatrix with a smile. "Doesn't that give you goosebumps?"

"It certainly does," Eleanor smiled, a warm smile on the face of a woman who didn't look well at all. "Look here, the twin peak mountains from the Ashodora accounts. The depiction of Pandora island from the Lavender collection's pottery shards. The multiple tales of old who spoke of an arduous journey across the frozen sea, to a land-tongue which can only be Boothia peninsula. Many would have died of exposure on the migration down south, but enough wizards survived to interbreed with local muggles and spread all over the world."

"Yeah," Bellatrix snorted. "I don't think everybody back home will be happy to hear that last bit of your theory."

"They'll just have to deal with it," said Hermione.

Tahki felt something… off. Even moreso than the ever-present raw power of magic emanating from that lone island. Almost instinctively, she looked up only to see even less. For a moment, she thought she was looking at some sort of white-out. It took her a few moments to realize that she was actually looking at a thin white fog just outside the window. Curious. It felt distinctly magical. And not part of the snow storm which was still raging. What on Earth was going on?

"Once we arrive at the island, the real adventure of discovery begins," said Eleanor. "We have enough for a rudimentary excavation. A first exploration."

"We don't exactly have the supplies or resources for a prolonged mission," said Kirk. "It would take a much larger expedition to set up a long-term archaeological operation."

"First things first," smiled Eleanor. "I agree. But we get first crack at exploring the city itself, however cursory, before we have to hand over our adventure to the magical governments which are sure to fight over it."

"It is on Canadian soil," said Tahki. "I fully expect the leafs to try to claim it. 'Ours now. Sorry, ey?'."

"It all depends on what state we'll find the city in," said Hermione. "If it's even navigable at all."

"Optimism, Hermie," Bellatrix said.

"Even finding the location where it once stood is a victory," replied Hermione. "How's that for optimism?"

The door to the conference lounge was opened, startling all occupants. With all eyes on them, in stepped Chiputec to be swiftly followed by Sunniva. The large woman dipped her head slightly to walk underneath the doorframe and looked to be quite agitated.

"Captain," said Chiputec. "Excuse the interruption, but our Neo-Viking friend urgently wants to..."

The South-American sailor had no chance to finish his sentence. "Captain, we are under attack!" Sunniva stressed. "This fog is created by my people when they..."

In that moment, the world exploded. Kirk was knocked off his feet when the entire ship shook. Eleanor yelped out as she hit her head against the table during her fall to the floor while Chandra managed to steady herself against the side of the hull. Both Bellatrix and Hermione ended up sprawled to the floor. It was only a warrior's reflexes that caused Sunniva to remain standing.

Yells and cries could be heard from all around the ship. And when the fire-alarm started blaring from the wheelhouse on deck, it was all but certain that disaster had struck.

Well, shit.

Kirk was someone who always kept calm under pressure, but an explosion on board his ship, for any reason, was something every Arctic seafarer feared. Without a ship in good condition, death lurked from every corner. A thousand thoughts shot through his mind: what was the scale of the damage? Was the fire spreading? How many of his crew had been wounded? What caused the explosion? And, if Sunniva was correct, what was the extend of the threat they would have to deal with?

"CAPTAIN!" Sunniva grabbed him by the arm. "If my people have come this far into the Canadian Arctic seas, they mean to kill you all! Captain. Give me my axe and armour and I will fight for you!"

Kirk narrowed his eyes, doubt clearly etched on his grizzled features. Again the ship shook from a heavy impact from… something.

"I will be as much an enemy to them as you are!" stressed Sunniva, a slight desperation on her voice. "And I have reasons to fight them! Please! Even if I am to die today, let it be with my axe in my hand."

Kirk sighed heavily. He knew his crew. He knew his ship. His crew were not fighters, nor grand wizards. None of them had gone to school and aside from knowing some highly specialized naval magic, they would be utterly useless against Neo-Vikings in a one-to-one fight. They could protect the ship with a shield and they knew how to lob fireballs at ice-floes… if the floes were big as a barn so they could actually hit them. The only real warriors on board were Bellatrix, Hermione and Sunniva. Add to that that this ship was not built for combat and was unlikely to survive continued onslaught from these Neo-Vikings, and the situation was about as hopeless as it could get.

"Hermione!" he turned to the Granger girl. "Keep the lower decks secured!"

Hermione nodded at him, her eyes going dark. The humanity started to ebb from her like he had seen before. He worried about the girl, certainly, but right now the survival of the ship and crew was far more pressing.

"Come on," said Kirk as he ran into the corridor with Sunniva in hot pursuit. They were halfway to the captain's cabin when the ship shook again, throwing the both of them against the hull.

"That hit came from the other side," Sunniva said as she picked herself up. "Two drakkar. Maybe three. It's a wolfpack. My people mean business."

"I definitely got that hint," the captain said grimly as the both of them continued into the captain's quarters. He ran to the safe next to his desk and started to fiddle with the knob. The moment he got it open, Sunniva grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him to the ground. About to curse her for her betrayal, he saw that she had hit the deck as well. Seconds later, the entire cabin was instantly lit up, the source being a massive ball of flaming destruction travelling towards the windows at the aft of the Kingfisher. The threw his head down again just before the entire room was sprayed with shards of broken glass, wood and hot flaming air. The hot air swiftly made way for the cold Arctic blasts as most of the stern of his quarters was now a gaping hole.

"I need to get on deck! Meet me there once you're ready to fight!" shouted Kirk, leaving Sunniva to it after throwing her the key to the safe.

Kirk ran out of the room and rushed up the stairs. When he arrived on deck, it was complete pandemonium. There were little fires everywhere while crew were running around like headless chickens trying to put them out. A massive hole was in the deck, the result of a projectile having hit the closed loading hatch. By some miracle, the sails had not been hit by any of the impacts and sat ablaze. Kirk yelled out, magically enhancing his voice. "OSWALD, ENGRIM, IRRENA!" he shouted. "PROTEGO THE SHIP AGAINST IMPACTS! BEODUL! ROLL UP THE SAILS AND ORGANIZE THE REST OF THE CREW TO PUT OUT THE FIRES! MAST FIRES FIRST, DECK FIRES SECOND!"

His presence now clear, the crew seemed to get back their focus. Beodul was the first to snap out of it. "YOU SCABROUS LOT HEARD THE CAP'N! GET THOSE SAILS FOLDED OR WE BE FUCKED SIDEWAYS!" yelled the goblin.

Their confidence boosted, the crew went along their tasks.

"DRAKKAR AHOY!" sounded Daelia from the crow's nest. "AT 8 AND 7 O'CLOCK!"

Indeed, from the mist two drakkar were looming up, their dragon shaped prow decorations cutting through the waves. He cursed as he realized that both drakkar had been travelling through the Kingfisher's own wake as it had cut through the ice, keeping their distance until they had found the perfect moment to strike. The two drakkar were narrow enough to partially pull alongside the ship and that was exactly what they were going to do.

Boarding parties would be incoming next, he dreaded.

A cry sounded as another fireglobe lobbed from one of the two drakkar slammed against the shield the crew had put up. Even so, the impact should be felt as the ball of liquid flame magics lit up the misty sky overhead as it spread over the shield. It would be a beautiful sight if it wasn't meant to burn the very ship to ash right from under them.

The flames were only meant to soften them up. The Neo-Vikings meant to board the Kingfisher, alright. And, Merlin's Arse, it was going to be a massacre.

"Merlin… Merlin…" Bellatrix muttered, looking around wild-eyed. Hermione knew what was going on: she had been through plenty of situations like this during the war. This was a time to act, not to cower. Swiftly, she grabbed her girl by the arm and hoisted her to her feet.

"Trix," she said, her voice harsh. "Get a hold of yourself, we're under attack and we need to act! This is no time for fear and doubt! Act or die!"

Harsh. Harsher than she perhaps should have been, but she loved Trix so much she wanted to protect her by any means necessary. If that meant she had to be cruel to her, then so be it. Fortunately, it seemed to have had the desired effect. Bellatrix nodded grimly and held tightly to her wand. With Bellatrix sorted, she looked around the room. Tahki was visibly unnerved, but ready for anything. Chandra was tending to Eleanor, who had a nasty cut on her forehead. Hermione held her own wand tightly in her silver hand. Again the ship shook. More cries filled her ears and the smell of fire tickled her nostrils. For a moment, she was back at Hogwarts during the Death Eater assault. Cries of the crew blended together with the cries of students. The smell of fire mixed with the smell of burning flesh. Imagines of a giant ripping the limbs off of a screaming fifth-year started floating in her vision, images of friends she had known for almost seven years lying dead or bleeding out on the soil taxed her sanity. She was there again, a girl just nineteen years old surrounded by the sights of death and destruction nobody should ever have to see and experience.

She remembered being as scared back then as Bellatrix was now. Stone walls of a castle once offering the safety of a home away from home, where she had studied, loved, read, worked and lived. A place of comfort and joy. A castle that was now ON FIRE as its walls echoed the screams of the injured and dying. Screams of people who were far too young to be injured and dying. It was the final moment where Hermione had lost the last vestiges of her innocence. When all the terrors she had suffered through had culminated. The moment which had turned her into a killer.

And now it was happening again. AGAIN!

Stone walls and wooden walls were not so different. Like at Hogwarts, she felt the heat of the fires, tasted blood in the air, smelled death and burning flesh. Was… this even happening? Were these memories blending with reality? Did it even matter?

No. All that mattered now was survival. Everything else was secondary. She took a deep breath and let the adrenalin wash over her.

Fight now, cry later.

Hermione steeled herself, raised her hand and slapped Bellatrix against the cheek. Not the gentle kind of slap one would give out as a joke or when having a little fun in bed. No. Hermione glared at Bellatrix harshly when the curly-haired girl returned her look with a shocked expression while an angry red welt started to form on the pale skin of her cheek. Bellatrix' lip trembled a little when she raised her hand to feel her obviously stinging cheek.

"Come on, you two!" menaced Hermione to Bellatrix and Tahki. "The captain needs us to secure the passenger deck! And we will do it!"

"We need to go above deck," yelled Bellatrix. "Help out the others!"

"No!" Hermione returned with a harsh hiss. "Captain Kirk ordered us to secure the passenger deck!"

"What's the point of that?!" Bellatrix returned. "The fight's upstairs! They're our friends and they need our help!"

Hermione grabbed her girlfriend by the shoulders and pushed her. "If the Neo-Vikings get through here they could do anything. Let's start with them killing Chandra, Eleanor, Haema and Nymph. Or perhaps they will blast a hole in the hull from underneath the waterline to sink the ship! We do as McGonagall told us! Guard the stairs from the upper deck down into the ship and hold the line!"

"M-McGonagall?" Bellatrix furrowed her brow.

Hermione pursed her lips. Why the hell was Bellatrix being so bloody difficult at a time like this? "You heard me!" she shouted back. "Captain McGonagall ordered us to hold this staircase, so we hold this staircase!"

Another explosion rocked the ship, this one much closer than they'd were comfortable with. Behind them, closer to midship, a second explosion followed. Wood splinters blasted inward into the corridors along with a rush of cold Arctic air. The hole in the hull it had created was large. Large enough for the boarding party that entered through it swiftly.

"They made their own goddamn door!" shouted Tahki, but Hermione barely heard a word of what she said. All she was focused on were the barbarians smashing their way into the ship, their angry and certainly intimidating war-cries resounding through the corridors. Up on deck, the situation wouldn't be much better.

There were five of them. Three men, two women, all wielding those massive axes brimming with magic. Their dress was hardly fitting for the weather, leaving much skin exposed. Though their innate magical protection from cold would help them there, their choice of armour was meant for maximum mobility rather than protection. Two of the boarders headed in their direction, while the other three ran deeper into the ship.

Hermione immediately sprang to action. With wand raised, she stuck to the walls. Of course, the Neo-Vikings saw her first. One of the boarders, a younger man with long hair sprouting from underneath a leather helmet, shouted and started raising his axe to unleash a thunder-storm upon her. Unfortunately for him, while their axes were undeniably powerful, the Neo-Vikings wielded them much slower than they would have a wand. As the boy swiftly and painfully found out when Hermione got her spells in the air first with deadly and merciless aim. Magic shredded through his torso and any warcry he had tried to unleash died on his lips.

The young man dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A nasty burn of magic on his sternum, Hermione had just narrowed missed the heart she'd been aiming for. No quick death for him then, but Hermione didn't much care at this point. The other Neo-Viking was an older man with a knotty wild beard and long dark hair. Muscular and angry, he literally stepped over the body of his comrade and reached Hermione before she could get another spell off. Rather than going in with magic, he swung his axe in a sideways arc. A bellow emerged from his lips and Hermione just narrowly avoided getting an axe buried into her brain by willing her magic to flit her body slightly to the left. The man was a capable warrior, as he had anticipated this possibility. A sharply raised padded knee met Hermione's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. The handle of said axe was then quickly slammed against her chest, knocking her backwards with her wand clattering to the floor.

"HERMIE!" was shouted and a blast of magic flashed over her shoulder, right into the Viking's eyes. Hermione didn't hesitate and fell back to her other remaining weapon: her silver hand. She lashed out and locked it around first bodypart she could grab in a viselike grip, which was the Viking's left forearm. And then she unleashed the full force of her prosthetic hand upon the hapless warrior. Screams of horrifying pain and shock filled her ears as the Viking started to try to pull away. It was to no avail. The silver metal crushed bone and flesh alike as it dug into his arm. The man was on his knees now, unleashing a bellow which was part anger, part agony and part plea.

"Jesus, Hermione!" yelled Tahki, horrified

"I have it under control," whispered Hermione coldly, taking a moment to cough the blood out of her mouth as she looked down upon the man. Literally, as he was now writhing on the floor nearly delirious with agony as Hermione's hand continued to crush ever more of his arm. "Go," she told the other girls. "Situation has changed. The crew needs your help. I will deal with the other Death Eaters."

"Hermie…" Bellatrix started. Her girl was hesitant, looking at the downed men and then further into the corridor. "You took out these two, but can you take the other three without us?"

"Go," Hermione smiled, trying to be encouraging. "I'll be fine."

Bellatrix hesitated again for a moment, but then rushed forward and kissed her roughly on the lips. "Don't you dare die to something stupid."

"I won't," Hermione smiled briefly. One more look at the two girls ran back into the corridor, towards the stairs.

She watched the two girls go and was briefly distracted. Distracted enough to notice just in time that the shouting man was reaching for his axe. Immediately, she released him. His mangled forearm was nothing more than a dangling bit of flesh which looked to have just come out of the business end of a butcher's meat grinder. Her silver hand swiftly wrapped around the top of the man's skull and she increased the pressure. The scream that followed didn't even sound human. Hermione's breathing went heavier from the effort. But even now there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind, asking her what the hell she was doing. She had killed on the battlefield before, that was true. But that was different. That was war and defending herself or her friends. This man was already out of the fight. Take his axe away and it would be over. Good people did not kill downed combatants. Death Eaters did that. Yet every instinct within her kept yelling at her to kill this man.

No.

She released the Viking and left him to whimper on the floor. Now, to look for her wand.

Hermione would be quick to release the depth of her mistake. Unexpectedly, the gravely wounded Viking lashed out to her, his whimpering of pain replaced with cries of anger. Her tackled her to the floor, pinning her down. His good hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed so tightly it shocked Hermione. She started flailing her arms against the heavy bulk of the Viking, lamely slapping against him while fighting for precious breath.

"You're soft and weak. Pathetic. You should have finished the job. You didn't press on because you couldn't. Because you haven't got what it takes to be a raider," he spoke with accented voice from a reeking maw. "Ragnar promised us the pick of the women on this ship. And I'll pick you. I'll take you to our drakkar. That was your girl, right? The one who kissed you? Well, we're gonna take her too. And on the way back to Thule, I'm going to rape you. Again. And again. And again. And then we're going make you watch as we take turns with that lovely black-haired girl of yours. And when your body is black and blue and you're begging for death, we're going to cut your still living flesh into pieces and feed you to the fish bit by bit. She first. Then you."

Ah, there it was. For all their bluster about honour and glory in combat, the Neo-Vikings still allowed this barbaric thuggery within their mid. Upon hearing the atrocities he was planning to commit against her and the girl she loved, Hermione was seeing red, driven by pure anger. So when her silver hand finally grabbed something, which happened to be the man's good wrist, she once again applied full force without sparing a second thought.

More cries. More sounds of bones being crushed and flesh being torn. The grip on Hermione's neck loosened and she took in a deep tug of air. The man in front of her was broken. And yet she took no risk. "You stupid son of a bitch," Hermione shook her head, voice low. "You have to be dealt with…"

The Viking's eyes grew wider. He knew. He saw in her eyes that Hermione was going to kill him.

"A-axe… A-xe…" he muttered, reaching for it with a hand which no longer responded to his brain's input due to the sheer amount of tissue damage.

"What? This?" said Hermione as she picked up the axe. It was heavy and oddly plain. The head was not as beautifully crafted at the one Sunniva had. Perhaps he simply hadn't earned a better axe or couldn't afford a better one, though the wood was finely carved into runic patterns. Without a second thought, Hermione threw it to her side and through the hole of the hull where it met the sea with resounded and, to the Viking, terrifying splash. "Oh dear," Hermione couldn't help but smirk cruelly. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. No more axe to hold in your hand. You're about to die a disgraced warrior. No seat at Odin's table for you."

Whatever religious bullshit this man apparently believed in was enough to make him nearly piss his pants as Hermione stood over him. And she relished it. "Say hi to Hel from Hermione," she added. Just to rub a little more salt in the wound. It was only meant to kick the man while he was down, as 'payment' for his vile threats. It almost ended there.

Almost.

She took another look at the man as he lay there in agony and despair. This man, whom had promised to do unspeakable things to her and Trix. In that moment, she was back on the floor at Malfoy Manor. Bleeding. Broken. Defeated. In agony. In despair. It was hard to breathe. Every inch of movement hurt. She tasted blood on her lips. The poker clattered to the ground. Rodolphus Lestrange leered over her. She could smell his foul breath on her cheek. "I'll give you over to the snatchers. They know how to have fun with little mudblood girls like you," he had whispered gleefully in her ear. Hermione remembered how terrified she was. So terrified that she almost revealed everything she knew. But that was then. Then, she had been unable to protect herself and those she loved. But today was different. She was stronger now. Infinitely stronger.

So strong that she lashed out with her silver hand, wrapped it around the side of Rodolphus' skull and squeezed with all her might. His skull popped like an egg and silver fingers moved through bone and brain effortlessly. It was all over before she had even blinked.

And when she opened her eyes, she was in the same position Rodolphus had been when he had been over her. The maimed viking was lay dead, his skull crushed to a pulp and its contents spilled over the deck and her hand. Hermione raised her now bloodied silver hand and looked at her own palm incredulously. Rivulets of blood rolled across the metal. She watched them, being in her own world for a moment. Trying to understand what she had just done.

A gasp sounded near her. The young Neo-Viking she had downed had a burn on his chest; her spell had pierced his body and burned one of his lungs from the inside out. It was a miracle he was still alive. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him grasping his axe and instinct took over. The bloodied silver hand lashed out and clamped around the boy's neck like a vise. A snarl came to Hermione's lips when she started squeezing tightly. The young Viking fought for breath and held onto the handle of his axe with desperation, though he made no move to fight her. It was only when Hermione saw the fear in his eyes that she finally let go of him.

He was in no shape to fight. He was not a threat. He only held on to his axe because he was afraid that Hermione would take it away from him before his death and rob him of his promised seat at Odin's table like she had robbed his companion of it.

God, what had she become?

"Well," sighed Hermione as she finally found her wand after wiping all the brain matter and blood off her prosthetic with a cloth, addressing the whimpering warboy. "That's another ten years of therapy ahead of me…"

That almost sounded funny to her. It was anything but.

Hermione carefully glanced outside of the hole and found the drakkar to be empty, held in place by harpoons on rope slammed into the Kingfisher's hull. So, either there were only five crew on the drakkar and they were now on board of the Kingfisher, or there were more boarders who were now topside. Whatever the case, there was no expected danger from the drakkar. Above her, sounds to heavy fighting, cries and shouts were easily heard, while magic itself was heavy in the air.

However, she still had three Vikings to deal with below deck. If any one of those were like the one she had fought, Hermione feared she might have bit off a little more than she could chew. So she carefully made her way to the other side of the ship, towards the conference lounge where the other three had been headed. With every step, her senses betrayed her as her memories blended together with the present. Wooden walls turned to stone walls, screams coming from people Hermione knew to be dead resounded through her mind. Part of her wanted to roll up into a ball then and there and cry until it was all over. Another part of her cried out for more blood and death, to inflict all the things done to her onto others as an empty promise for relief of her burdens. And whatever was left of Hermione's sanity was deftly caught in the middle and assaulted by both. Hermione heard a sob and never quite realized it had just come from her own mouth.

When rounding about the corner she was met with a gruesome sight. One of the Neo-Vikings, a red-haired female in a fur-lined scale-mail bikini, hung limply in the vice-like grip of Dr. Big-Mouth. The vampire had apparently snuck up from behind and grabbed her. Grumpy and mild-mannered, the ship's doctor looked rather monstrous with his fangs sunk in the neck of the Viking. Her pale skin, now even paler, showed that she had been nearly drained of all blood. Apparently accepting her fate, the Viking's eyes looked dull and lifeless and her lips moved to form words which never came. Her muscles in her axe-hand were tense as she desperately tried to hold on to her weapon.

Almost on instinct, Hermione rushed forward, her silver hand gently wrapping around the woman's hand to hold the axe in place.

The woman looked up, a moment of gratitude flashing through her green eyes right before light went out of them. The vampire lay down her body in one fluent motion before he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "First decent meal in months," muttered the vampire. "The other two went into the conference lounge."

"Shit," Hermione muttered. "That's where Chandra and Eleanor are!"

The two of them rushed to the lounge and burst inside, expecting the worst. But while the expected worst definitely came into view, the surprise was that the worst had happened to two unexpected targets. The lounge was unrecognizable compared to only a few moments ago. All glass panes had been blown out, furniture had been smashed and broken while the floor and walls were scorched. Little fires here and there endured blasts of cold air coming through the broken windows. It looked as if a bomb had gone off and, considering the damage done to the two Neo-Vikings lain on the floor, it might very well have. One Neo-Viking had borne the brunt of the explosion and had been mostly left has a charred limbless husk. Near him lay a Neo-Viking, a woman. Her entire right side had been burned to a crisp from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Whatever little armour she'd been wearing had been fused with her skin. Miraculously, the woman was still alive and moaned softly. The vampire doctor knelt down to examine her.

Of more immediate concern were Eleanor and Chandra. Eleanor was still unconscious, but Chandra? She sat next to Eleanor, huddled against the wall having folded herself into a ball. Her hands were shivering, her eyes were wild. Hermione took care to approach her without making any sudden movement, kneeling down beside her to gentle take the wand out of her trembling hand. Chandra turned her head towards Hermione, puzzled. Her lip trembled as if her brain wasn't really registering what had been going on. Pupils dilated, Chandra looked as if she'd been hit with a stunner. Curious, that. Hermione wasn't expecting the Neo-Viking to use non-lethal spells. The Neo-Viking in the hallways said Ragnar had promised them to have 'pick of the women'. Perhaps they were trying to stun her to capture her?

"I… I…" Chandra stammered, her words a jumble. Her body was still feeling the effects of her stun. "They… just… came at me and… then… I… the spell I used…"

Bombarda Maxima. The effect of such a spell on the human body was disastrous to say the least. God, the smell was beyond awful.

"You did good," said Hermione as Chandra slowly wrapped her arms around her in search for comfort. "You did what you had to do."

A loud crack sounded. Still holding on to Chandra, Hermione turned her head to see that the vampire doctor had used his vampiric strength to swiftly break the female Viking's neck.

"Too far gone," said the vampire, shaking his head. "And I'm not going to waste precious resources on this barbarian when our own people are sure to need them more!"

Something happened. Above them. She felt a wave magic course through the entire ship, making the hairs on her body stand up from the sheer static energy in the air. Sometime had happened on deck. Instinctively, Hermione raised her head, her heart constricting with worry. Trix was up there, in the thick of it.

"Go help the others on deck!" the vampire pressed. "I will see to their safety."

Hermione nodded, forcing Chandra to let go of her and rushed into the corridor. She could only hope to see people she loved people still alive.

Bellatrix acted on pure instinct the moment she stepped on deck. Though she wore no parka and the cold hit her body as if she had run straight into a wall, she had no time to shiver. Her wand aimed at the nearest Neo-Viking, a young man who was way too close for her comfort. Two shouts later and the man was launched into the air to fly backwards over the railing. Judging from the bonk and the sound of a splash, he had hit the drakkar next to the ship and bounced off right into the water below.

Good: though they could stand the cold surprisingly well, she hoped that would at least take him out of commission for a bit. Tahki followed suit as Bellatrix took in the pandemonium. Lots of fires on deck, railings and decking were riddled with enough holes that she would have to watch her footing. In total there were four Neo-Vikings on deck, spread out. The crew was still putting up a fight, but they were clearly losing. Irrena was down, clutching her wounded stomach. Chiputec was nursing an arm with an ugly looking axe-wound. Engrim was unconscious. And…

"Oh, shit, no!" Tahki exclaimed. Riggere. Rum-dum Riggere, the muscular man from the west-Indies whom had treated them all with flirty kindness… more than flirty in Tahki's case… lay on the deck. In a bisected state. Bellatrix could that Tahki was more than a little upset… her cousin was starting to heave and hyperventilate. Just what they didn't need.

"Don't look at him!" Bellatrix said, pushed Tahki to face another direction and pushing her against the side of the wheelhouse.

Heavy fighting was still going on: Kirk and Beodul were holding the wheelhouse on the other side, fighting the hulking brute she had seen before, Ragnar was his name. He seemed even bigger than before, swinging his axe with sadistic fervour.

Copperhead was holding his own against a female Neo-Viking, helped by some extra bombardment from Daelia up in the crow's nest. Angry buzzing was clearly heard among the snow-laden winds whipping around them, the three ship's wasps and Zipper flying back and forth to take any opportunity to sting and harass any Neo-Viking they came across. Even so, they were on the losing side of a war of attrition. That much was clear.

"BELLA!" Tahki pushed her to the side moments before a bolt of lightning burst through the misty sky and strike the very part of the deck she'd been standing. Two of the Neo-Vikings, a smaller-framed red-haired female and a larger muscular brute, turned their axes to them now. Tahki rushed forward, zig-zagging in between the bolts travelling across the deck again and again. Bellatrix almost laughed when she saw the frustration on the Neo-Vikings' faces. Her cousin had always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with her own abilities as a savant, but it obvious that it had its positive points too. With Bellatrix now having her hands free, she unleashed the Slytherin within; fighting mean, dirty and cleverly. Copperhead, fuelled by anger, kept a raven-haired Neo-Viking busy enough for Bellatrix to attack her from behind. The woman let out a yelp as she was blasted off her feet and, with a wave of her wand, Bellatrix accio'd the axe right into her hand. The woman was far from defenceless, however, as she pulled a smaller hand-axe from her belt and swiftly threw it at her with such a speed that she could barely bring up her shield again in time to block it.

"That's not fair!" Bellatrix yelled out indignantly, following it up with a curse to slam the woman with her back against the mast. Now downed and without her axe, the woman screamed in pain when she was quickly swarmed by four giant wasps with ten inch-long stingers. Bellatrix quite approved of this: her wasp friends were Slytherin enough to see an opportunity and exploit it.

"We're doing it!" yelled Tahki. "We're turning the tide!"

That was a jinx, as it turned out. The next thing Bellatrix saw and heard were the cries of a goblin yelling obscenities after having been punted across the deck. Kirk lay propped against the side of the wheelhouse holding his bleeding side while the brute Ragnar let a wave of lighting blast over the deck. Everybody, friend and foe, felt the static power bear down upon them. Pain was acute and immediate.

"YOU CALL YOURSELF DRENGR?!" roared Ragnar. "You are brought low by peasants, pests and LITTLE GIRLS!"

Bellatrix hissed as she forced herself to her feet, facing down the hulking brute of a man as he strode towards her playfully swinging his massive axe from side to side. "Bring it," Bellatrix hissed through the pain.

"HAH!" Ragnar let out a hearty laugh. "So at least one of you has a measure of spirit. I look forward to breaking it, little wench!"

"Who are you calling little?" Bellatrix spat back, raising her wand.

"This ship and everything aboard it is mine," grinned Ragnar. "That includes you, my sweet little future thrall. How good are you at serving food to hungry warriors?"

Bellatrix smirked, still aiming her wand at Ragnar. "I'll have you know as I was top of my potioneering class. I excel at poison-making especially. Colourless. Odourless. Undetectable."

Ragnar snorted again. "Then perhaps I should just kill you and let the sea swallow your corpse whole…"

The air was split with the sound of a horn being blown. All heads turned towards the staircase leading below decks. At the top of which, now stood Sunniva. Clad in full armour, midriff and arms bare, she held her two-handed axe in one hand and a warhorn in the other. Her cloak billowed around her in the wind, her piercing blue eyes peering out from under her horned helmet. She made an altogether striking regal presence. Whoever was still fighting stopped in their tracks.

"Yes!" Tahki fist-pumped in the air.

Sunniva stepped out onto deck, her boots making heavy sounds as she stood to face Ragnar.

"Sister!" greeted the man. "And here I thought these peasants had thrown your overboard. What a pity that you are still alive."

"I CALL A HOLMGANG!" Sunniva roared, her voice intense and angry. "ANSWER MY CHALLENGE, RAGNAR EALDWYNNSON!"

Immediately, Ragnar's expression changed. "You no longer have the right to call a holmgang! You are no longer one of us!"

Sunniva turned to the raven-haired Neo-Viking woman Copperhead had been fighting and then to the red-head whom had attacked Tahki. "Svari? Gudrun?" she spoke softly before turning back to Ragnar. "YOU PIT MY OWN JOMSVIKINGR AGAINST ME?!"

"Whatever was yours is now mine!" Ragnar chuckled. "Our own queen has decreed such."

The raven-haired Neo-Viking known as Svari, her body covered with deep wounds from the multitude of wasp-stings, hung her head low. "Forgive us, Sunniva," she spoke softly. "We were honour-bound…"

"Silence, wench!" Ragnar spoke. "Like I said, the Queen has decreed your properties, lands, ships and crews seized and given to me. Oh, how that must sting, dear sister."

"It was also the queen's decree to leave this ship and crew be," said Sunniva, the two of them now circling each other. "And yet here you are, in an act of honourless defiance."

Ragnar snorted. "It was our queen who was honourless! The very All-father himself has decreed that the waters around Alfheim must never be entered on pain of death and destruction to our people! Our queen has failed to perform her duty to the gods! She is old and feeble! I will return to our homeland with the heads of these interlopers and their women as our thralls! Then our people will know that I carry the favour of Odin as their rightful king!"

"You're even madder than I thought," snarled Sunniva. "Raise your axe and fight me in honourable holmgang, if you are so convinced of your own righteousness!"

Ragnar raised his axe. The holmgang was on. Just as the two of them started circling each other, Hermione ran up the stairs with wand in hand. Bellatrix was swift to intercept her, holding on to her. "Hermie, wait!" she said and quickly explained what had just been happening. Though apparently sceptical, Hermione fell in line and decided to provide some first aid to the fallen crew instead, being helped by Copperhead. Bellatrix turned their attention to the warriors. So far it was only posturing, but it was then that Sunniva made the first move that the holmgang began in earnest. With a bellow, the female warrior took a step forward and cleft her axe through the air. Axe met axe in a shower of sparks, both born of metal and clashing lightning magics. The very air between them hummed with power. Sunniva withdrew, twirled around her axis to deliver a heavy blow which was swiftly blocked by the hulking brute Ragnar. Ragnar didn't hesitate and smashed the handle of his axe into Sunniva's face. The woman spit out some blood on the floor and snarled briefly.

"Was that first blood?" Tahki whispered to her. "I think it technically was."

Bellatrix didn't answer, but watched in fascination as the two of them continued to dance. Axe slammed into axe as both warriors fought with fury, until Sunniva's armour started to pulsate. A massive bolt of lightning leapt from her axe and slammed into Ragnar, the other warrior using a shield made from lightning to catch the bolt. Ragnar retaliated by throwing three balls of concentrated lightning in the air. Sunniva deftly dodged one of the slow-moving balls and then used her own axe to seemingly capture it… charging her weapon with pure magical power in the process. It seemed as if she then used this power to negate the third incoming ball of power.

Fascinating: Bellatrix concluded that Ragnar and Sunniva were actually attempting to reverse polarities of each other's attack to effectively try to cancel it out. She'd never seen this type of martial magic before.

Sunniva let out a roar and jumped in the air with her axe held over her head in both hands. Ragnar barely managed to roll out of the way before the axe buried into the wood of the deck where she stood. He got very little reprieve as she swung out immediately and nicked his arm in the process.

"I think that was proper first blood," said Bellatrix to Tahki.

More sparks flew when their axes met again. A boot met Sunniva's stomach, though she quickly recovered. With their axe-handle locked against each other, the muscles in both their arms strained as they pushed against each other. "She always favoured you more!" Ragnar spat in Sunniva's face. "No longer!"

"Is that was this is about, Ragnar?" Sunniva snorted. "It's not as if mother showed me much love either!"

"It was always you she praised! Always you she adored! Always you she doted on!" Ragnar roared. "All my accomplishments, all my conquests, all my efforts… all ignored!"

Ahah. Having siblings herself, Bellatrix had some experience in this field. Though they had an unbreakable bond, there had also always been friendly competition between her and her two sisters. Especially when these were less than three chocolates left in a box, their friendly competition could get especially brutal. Still, turning each other into toads to get their hands on that most coveted last chocolate rather paled in comparison to wanting to kill each other with lightning charged axes. Somewhere along the line, the competition between Sunniva and her brother Ragnar had turned sour and bitter.

Bellatrix was no fool: she realized quite well that this fight would decide the fate of the crew. Though Sunniva was undoubtedly an incredible fighter, the Slytherin in her would not allow her to put her ultimate fate in the hands of what was essentially chance. Even the best of fighters could slip up, after all. And one slip up was all it would take.

So, carefully as to not arise suspicion, Bellatrix inched to the side of the battle bit by bit. Soon she would be in a position where she was stood behind the Neo-Viking Ragnar and the moment it would seem as if Sunniva was about to lose the fight, she would hit him right in the back with the most devastating spells she could think of in rapid succession. Though she had never cast the killing curse and likely never would, she found that a lot of dark wizard used it like a crutch; certain spells could be just as deadly if applied in the right… or wrong… way.

Bellatrix tensed up, stood at the ready with her wand clutched in her hand. She knew enough simple 'household' spells to creatively shred Ragnar's body to pieces if she'd have to. Sure, there'd still be other Neo-Vikings to deal with, but by now they were decidedly outnumbered and once the biggest tree fell, the rest of the forest was sure to follow.

So far, nobody had noticed her yet, as they were either too focused on watching the holmgang or tending to the wounded. With one exception. Hermione gave her an almost imperceptible nod and clutched her wand a little tighter in her silver hand. Of course her girl would notice what she was doing. Bellatrix took a chance and pushed her luck a little further, finding a spot a bit further along so that both she and Hermione would have a chance to sideswipe Ragnar if need be.

During the continuing holmgang, Sunniva snarled and pushed back, staggering the man and finishing it by slamming the handle against his chin. Ragnar flew backwards and that was all the opening Sunniva needed. The axe-head was brought down upon his shoulder. Blood spurted and muscle tore. Ragnar roared in agony and punched his sister in the face. Sunniva responded by butting her helmeted head against his with staggering speed and strength. Ragnar's nose was swiftly crushed and he sprawled onto the ground again. A shiver went through Bellatrix when Sunniva brought her axe down on Ragnar's left hand, severing four fingers. Though the fight looked to be over, she remained wary.

Bellatrix felt Zipper land on her head, unusually tense and focused. She could feel the extended stringer against her curly hair, meaning that Zipper was at the ready to fly right at Ragnar and stab the hell out of him. Zipper was, as usual, a smart, good and protective boy.

"URGH! BITCH!" Ragnar shouted as he sat and heaved.

Sunniva stood over him, shaking her head. "I loved you as a brother, Ragnar. It was always you who spurned me. It was always you sought competition. It was always you who acted without honour. It was always you whose cruelty knew no bounds."

Bellatrix tensed again, cursing under her breath: this was no time for speeches or to work through your childhood trauma. Don't speech when you need to kill!

Ragnar grit his teeth, his good hand hovering near his boot. "Perhaps… perhaps things could be as they once were." he heaved through ragged breaths, holding out his damaged hand.

Sunniva's expression softened slightly. "Perhaps, in the end, you can find your honour. And we can finally be the siblings we were meant to be all our lives," she said, her tone slightly hopeful.

Bellatrix couldn't help but groan and think upon just how much of a complete and utter naive idiot Sunniva really was.

Several things happened at once. Tahki cried out for Sunniva to watch out. Hermione stepped forward to intervene. Bellatrix gasped and raised her wand. All while Ragnar fished a knife from his boot and, with the speed of a striking thought, swung it out and buried it deeply into Sunniva's exposed thigh. The blonde warrior woman let out a surprised yelp and lost her footing, crying out once more first after falling on the knife, then again when Ragnar ripped the knife from her flesh and prepared to thrust it right into her chest with a cruel and powerful downward arc. Hermione and Bellatrix both started whispering words of power aimed at Ragnar's back at the same time to swiftly take him out.

A loud bang sounded.

Ragnar's stab never came. Spells were never cast. Instead the knife fell from his hand. A look of surprise was etched on Ragnar's bearded face. He slowly looked down to see a round hole in his bare chest oozing blood. The source of said hole?

Tahki Black was stood with both her hands wrapped around the handgrip of her grandfather's revolver, smoke still coming from the barrel. Bellatrix grimaced, her ears still ringing. Apparently, Tahki had had the same idea as she had, just a difference in execution. Bloody hell, that shooting iron was loud…

Tahki seemed surprised herself for a moment, until her expression changed. With gritted teeth, she took aim again.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Followed by clicking.

Five more blood-oozing holes appeared on Ragnar's chest, the man growing ever more incredulous. All time seemed to have stopped. No sound could be heard other than the ragged breaths of those still living amid the howling of the snow-laden winds. That is, until someone picked up the knife Ragnar had dropped. Only to slam it point-first through the top of Ragnar's skull. Copperhead, the gruff erstwhile sailor, stood over Ragnar and took a moment to spit in his face. "That's for Seagull, you fucking bastard!" spat Copperhead.

Hah! Another one with the same idea she had. Bellatrix almost chuckled. It felt good to be surrounded by people with a proper Slytherin mindset.

And yet still the man clung to life. With blood oozing down his body and his mouth gaping open and close like a fish on dry land due to a large piece of metal stuck in his brain, the man was a sorry sight. It was Sunniva who ended it all: her axe cleft through the air, meat and bone with a satisfying arc to sever Ragnar's head clean off his body. It landed on the deck where it rolled until it fell down the hole in the loading hatch. The body itself fell to the deck, spurting out blood. It was finally over.

The raven-haired Neo-Viking Svari stepped forward. "The holmgang is over with Sunniva Ealdwynnsdottir being the uncontested victor! We answer to you and you alone!"

"Oh, shut your cake-hole, you half-naked barmy bint!" Copperhead shot back. "Do us all a favour and throw yourself overboard while you're at it!"

Though the female Neo-viking seemed momentarily shocked at the outburst, the other Neo-Vikings still standing dropped their axes to the deck.

Bellatrix let out a sigh of relief when Zipper landed in her arms to see if she was doing alright. Tahki knelt down next to the fallen Sunniva to try to help her stem the bleeding. It looked like the fight was over. And just in time, judging from the cries of pain and anguish all around them. She'd be hard pressed to find a crewmember here who wasn't in any way injured or harmed. Kirk had staggered to his feet, his clothes drenched in blood from the axe wound to his side where Ragnar had clipped him. He started barking orders and yelling at Neo-Vikings to get the hell off his ship. Meanwhile, now that the adrenalin was starting to run its course, she became acutely aware that she had stepped right into the Arctic polar winds without a parka and just how chilled to the bone she was.

On the way to the stairs leading below decks, she almost bumped into Nymphadora whom had run up onto deck and looked around with an incredulous look on her face. "Okay, what the bloody hell is going on?!" Nymphadora yelled. "Why were there explosions and why did a severed head just drop down onto the orlop deck?! Wha… why is everybody injured? Vikings? Here?! You fucking what, mate?!"