Catherine sat down on her bed softly, as the battle raged outside.
He would be here soon, she knew, and it was up to her to "convince" him that it was in his best interest to keep her alive.
And sure enough, an impressive figure, clad head-to-toe in extravagant full plate armor strode into her chambers. She smiled mischieviously, and looked down at her bed.
"Ragnar, what happened to our relationship?"
But the figure said nothing, closing the door behind them and silently staring at the Queen. Catherine looked bashfully up, fluttered her eyes, and sighed.
"You threw a feast in my honor once. That was a wonderful night we had. You remember it, don't you?"
Still no words escaped from the warrior. A long, slender blade would be drawn, and leveled at the Queen. Catherine chewed on her lip, finally realizing she was not talking to Ragnar.
"So you are not him, then? I understand..." she began, and her smile widened. Her hands moved to her corset strings, and she layed back on the bed. "Won't you help me with this? It's awfully ti-"
The Knight did not let her finish. She took two steps forward and ran Catherine through, her divine blade piercing the Queen's throat and ending her sentence with a panicked glare and a pathetic gurgle.
Lady Lancelot removed her blade, wiped it clean on the Queen's rapidly reddening bedsheets, and strode out of the room.
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In our dealings with the Queen from the new world, my King Ragnar has finally convinced Boudica to trade their map for ours.
With Lady Lancelot's troops victorious in Russia, we have built a spectacular church to the Lord of Shadows, with stained glass windows to cast the darkness in many colors in Uppsala, where the capitol has been moved. In the interest of saving money the majority of our cities no longer have to take a boat across the Elonan Channel.
Meanwhile, our Lord Ragnar, as well as two of his Generals, have boarded a fleet of ships, our King hand-selecting his best warriors for the Journey to Elona's Garden. I can only pray that they make it back safely, for I do not know what this bustling empire will do without him.
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Never before, had Ragnar seen such a beautiful place stained with so much blood. The nature of his home and every place he had seen in his conquests had been ugly, or merely just decorated.
But here, in Elona's Garden, he had seen true beauty. And at her throat, a desperate deposed King held a knife, threatening to kill the beauty before him. It was the Goddess' daughter, the King had said, and the entire garden would collapse around them if she was to die.
But Ragnar could not allow that to happen, and he had not gotten this far to give up. They had braved the seas, now scourged with fleet upon fleet of pirates.
They had battled viciously through each gate - not even fortification built by the gods could stop Ragnar. Slow, perhaps, but never stop. And they had spilled into the Garden, suffering heavy losses at the hands of the savage men who ruled this land with an Iron Fist. But no fist can stop the falling axe of Ragnar, and these people were no exception.
Ragnar frowned, and that frown turned into a snarl. The snarl turned to a roar, and the Viking King lifted his axe to the sky.
"ELDAAAARRRRIIOOOOOOOOOONNNN!"
The skies rumbled, and the clouds churned...
(to be continued.)