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Slipping behind him, I drop down and cut the backs of his knees. He lets out a pained yell, choking off his rant mid-word, and falls forward. I stand slowly and walk around him until I am positioned at his front. He looks up at me, his face murderous.

“You are nothing. You are a fucking slave. A fucking toy, you won’t kill me!

” he screams as blood starts to puddle beneath him.

I hear the throne room doors open and spare it a short look to see the rest of the clan making their way in.

I see some familiar eyes, but I don’t know everyone so I need to do this fast. He turns and screams at them to stop me, but not one person steps forward.

Some are probably wondering what I will do, some don’t care, and the others want his death. I can see it in their eyes.

Turning back to Ivar, I see the moment he realises the truth. “They don’t care. You lost their respect, you lost your right as King, and I am going to make you pay for everything you did.”

He turns back to me, his face turning purple in his anger. “Even if you kill me, you will still be a broken slave girl,” he spits, and I grin again.

“That’s where you are wrong. I was never broken, but you are.” With that, I get bored of talking and I grip my sword tighter. He starts to rant, insult after insult pouring out of his mouth as I bring my sword up.

“Ivar The Destroyer, traitor to the Berserker clan, I sentence you to death,” I say casually, and I drop the sword, aiming for his neck.

I hack and yell, letting everything out.

All the years of pain and suffering, all the heartache and loss, I let it guide my blade as I chop through his neck.

Like this, I can see how weak he is, relying on other’s strengths to protect him, but when it came down to it…

he was nothing more than a man. Blood splatters, and still I keep going until his head rolls away from his body.

His eyes staring at me, still filled with dimming anger and his mouth formed in a silent yell, it still isn’t enough.

He deserved so much more. Reaching down I grab his head and turn to face the silent crowd.

They are all waiting to see what I will do now.

Severed head and crown in one hand, bloody sword in the other, I stand on the raised platform with my chest heaving and blood dripping from my many wounds.

I let out a wordless triumphant shout as I raise the head of their leader.

I watch as they drop their weapons, confusion on their faces as they try to decide what to do now.

They look to each other, and the brands and braids littering the steps to the throne, testaments to my kills.

I wait for them to come, ready to take them all on, when the door bursts open and Dray storms in with an army of Seekers and scavs behind him.

He looks like the devil incarnate, a snarl twisting his lips, madness shining in his eyes, an axe in one hand and a sword in the other. He stops at the door, scanning the room until his gaze lands on me. He lets out a crazed laugh and saunters to me, even as I see the relief bloom in his cold eyes.

I look behind him, glad to see him but confused, he stops close to me, eyeing me like a cornered animal.

“Where are they?” I ask, knowing they wouldn’t have let him come alone. They would have been right there with him, ready to fight to the death through a sea of Berserkers to get to me, it’s the thought that got me through it. Seeing them again, holding them.

I watch his eye twitch for only a moment before his face turns blank and cold, but it doesn’t scare me anymore. “Dray,” I growl, stepping into his space, forgetting I am still holding the severed head of Ivar.

“Gone,” he says, clenching his jaw. I blink stupidly; I must have heard him wrong…

“Gone?” I question.

“The city took them, guards stormed The Summit with guns. Took one look at the bloodbath left behind and panicked. We had only just got there. The guards recognised them and took them, not without a fight, but I couldn’t stop them.”

“Why?” I scream in his face, panic exploding in my chest.

He gets in my face, a snarl on his lips.

“Because they would have killed me, then I couldn’t have come for you.

I’m not fucking sorry; I would have done much worse to get here.

Even if it means you hate me.” I can see the truth in his eyes, he’s not sorry.

He let them take them, didn’t even fight it, because he knew they would kill him and he wanted to save me.

“I didn’t need you to save me,” I point out numbly, my whole body frozen.

“I can see that, never doubted you,” he says, losing the snarl. His eyes are cold still and glittering with something, something that should scare me, but I feel anything but at the moment. Let them come, let them try, I will kill them all. “We will get them back,” he promises, the threat clear.

I nod, a plan forming. “We will, but we will need an army.” I grin grimly at him and he cocks his eyebrow, waiting for whatever I will do.

With that look, he promises he will stand by me, and I nod back.

Turning to face the amassed Seekers and Berserkers, I see some have taken my threat seriously and have left, the others are waiting, searching for leadership.

“They came to the north, they invaded our lands, they broke the treaty and they took our people!” I scream, the crowd cheers, raising their weapons, delight and anger staring back at me from every face.

They are raring for a fight and I am going to give them one.

“We will make them pay. We will head south and we will decimate the cities.”

There is only one thing left to do… The Berserkers must have a leader, and only one thing will remind them of the pain and blood I shed to get that.

Lifting Ivar’s head dramatically, the room goes silent, anticipation thrumming through them.

Half have waited a long time for a new leader, the other half have never dared even dr eam about it, but one thing is for sure, I need them and they need me.

I let go slightly and Ivar’s head drops to the floor with a splatter before rolling down the steps and landing at the feet of the assassin––of course that slimy bastard is here.

I lift the crown, and uncaring about the blood coating it, lay it on my head.

It’s heavy and I hate the feeling, but I jerk my chin up and raise my sword.

Chanting starts in the crowd as I run my eyes across them once more.

When I face the assassin, he winks before dropping to one knee, respect clear on his face as he mouths one word to me–– ‘Archel.’

I take a deep breath... his name. He gave me his name. With that, the spell is broken, Seekers and Berserkers alike drop to their knees, their head bowed as Dray steps to my side.

Side by side, we face the two clans, a Berserker Queen and a Seeker King. Together, we will teach them the north is not to be messed with––we will make them fear us and regret ever coming here.

The north will win, and blood will flow. If my men have been harmed, then god save them all for what I will do. The clans roar for me, I am no longer just Worth, nor am I Taz… now I am Queen.