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Romeo and Juliet as Vikings. Blood Lust By Bogdan C. "Blessed be the cruel, for they feel no sorrow." For decades a fierce war had been tearing at the fair fabric of Scandinavia. Two mighty Viking clans fought this war, each owning half of what is now known as Denmark. They fought with a lust for blood never before seen in Europe, a lust that would have made even the warrior Vandals tremble in their skins. A vicious chain of pillages, massacres and rape threw the clans into a deadlock. Each hostile action taken toward the other faction would be answered with a backlash that was at least as deadly. Often as many as twenty thousand men would be thrown in to a battle where prisoners did not exist, and where your sole option was to fight to your death. The leader of the Eastern Clan was Jan Aarvelson, he was also known as Purge Hammer. Jan had attained power at the age of twenty-one when he and a small group of men burned to the ground the Chief’s village and assumed control. He personally ordered the immediate execution of all his predecessor’s supporters; he personally publicly killed the Chief and his family. Soon after he started invading the lands around him seeking power. As he added a clan’s holdings to his he killed the ruling family in the same way that he disposed with his rulers. A young but vicious man who was said not only to be the greatest warrior in Europe, but unconquerable by neither man, woman, nor demon. His reputation of ruthlessness was infamous throughout the flat world. He was both respected and dreaded. The leader of the Western Clan was a wise old man who had only one daughter, whom he had not yet married to anyone due to the succession problem. He was Erik Crimson Axe. Erik had attained this name as a young warrior since his favorite weapon was a large battle-axe with which he ran into the fray of battle and beheaded several opponents at a time. When it became obvious that Purge Hammer was unstoppable by any single clan, a union was created. Erik took control of the union and established his clan as leaders. His wife had died at his daughter’s birth. His daughter was a beautiful young woman whose hand was pursued by many an aspiring leader. What wasn’t as well known as her beauty, however, was the fact that Irma (Axe’s daughter) was a very intelligent woman. "Father," Said Irma one day. It was December so it was night outside for about twenty hours a day. His father, who had recently received news of the complete destruction of a village on the border, was staring off into a fire lit inside their cottage. He was planning a retaliatory attack meant to drive deep into Jan Aarvelson’s territory while scorching everything in their way to ashes. "Father!" "Ah . . . sorry Irma. I’m getting old . . ." "I have a plan that would end this war forever." Irma cautiously proposed. "Woman, try not thine father’s patience with words of avoidance and fallacy! Speak ‘fore thine tongue dost freeze!" Erik had been taught to get to the point from his first action or word. "I should marry the Purge . . ." She was cut off by her father who had broken into an indescribable chain of obscenities that would’ve made Tartars wet their pants. "Have thine womanly mind lost its eyes! Hast thou flipped without a coin, thou whom I pride myself on having raised to be a wise lady well worth of the best! Or are we those that have flipped and in fact Jan Aarvelson not a brutish, murderous, treacherous cannibal and is in fact naught more than a common fisher? Or perchance there is in fact no war going on and there is in fact not a trace of hatred between mine great clan and his fanatic killers?! What is thine answer, o Lady Deceit?" Hyperventilation made Erik’s veins pulse purple. Oh Wrath how powerful thine touch is. "My Lord, thou didst not hear out my plan! I never sought to marry the monster from love! I will make him trust me, love me and believe me. Thine calling of me is sooth, for in veracity I wilst betray the fool. With poison shall I slay the evil that dares defy even the Gods!" She told her plan with eyes aflame, blond hair whooshing in the air and with the soul-fire of religious fanatics. A short silence followed, Erik looking at his daughter with disbelieving eyes. She was standing, nay, almost floating with heated eyes, hair disorderly and breath irregular. Had he created this symbol of will and power? Had he sown a seed so powerful as to topple immortal warrior legends from their high perched thrones built from the flesh and bone of hundreds of good men? Was this his loving, kind and beautiful daughter? "This could mean the end of thine life." "Aye, but is not one life less than thousands. Let us not forget that Jan is not loved by his people, so they may well welcome my betrayal." "Thou art right. Also as soon as he is dead my army will invade the East and impose ‘Pax Imperia’ in the wake of their own succession fights!" A week later Erik Crimson Axe sent a message to Jan Aarvelson asking for peace, which was to be sealed by the marriage of Jan and Irma. Which, let us not forget, would ensure Lord Aarvelson rule of East and West. For the glory of Odhin-Wodan, and may all brave meet in Walhalla. Purge Hammer’s answer was sent through the repatriation of several dead upperclassmen and the dismembered Western messenger. The Eastern delegation stated that temporary peace could be obtained through the marriage with the beautiful Irma- the proposal was accepted. Two months after the marriage Irma asked to be allowed to return to her father for a few days because she missed him. To which Purge Hammer’s answer was an approving yet reluctant grunt. So, Irma started upon her journey to the West with an escort of fifty berserks. When she entered her father’s newly fortified town she was amazed to see a fleet of twenty war vessels in the port and hundreds of men training in the use of their weapons. She was then taken by a fort escort to Erik Crimson Axe’s quarters. "Ah, my fair daughter is back I see. How fares Aarvelson?" Inquired her father. Erik looked years younger and he was in battle gear. "My husband fares well, sire. What wilst happen to my escort?" Was the cold answer. "Have I touched a nerve, lass? Or rather, perchance the demon has touched thine heart and our plans have been destroyed?" Mocked Crimson Axe as he burst into laughter. "What wilst happen to my escort?" "They’ll be fine, their barracks are outside the town. They’ll be well guarded, yet subtly, we don’t want our dear son to believe he has any worries from this front, do we?" "Indeed we don’t. And our plans are intact. The Lord has been unexpectedly humane. Thou art knowledgeful of the smaller amount of foot soldiers on the border. I’ve come to announce that Purge Hammer will be dead in two months," Retorted she in an increasingly cold and dutiful manner. "How do you find your husband to be, and are we to expect a demon-son anytime soon?" Erik sat himself upon a hide covered bronze throne in a darker part of the room. Irma was left standing in the light. "He’s a legend, my lord. He is indeed a great man and Thor forbid that you draw his wrath!" Irma said in a stable voice alike to a report a soldier gives his superior after a long journey. "Ambiguousness abound o Lady Deceit! Art thou pronouncing fact or art thou slithering thine way amid the brush of truth as a clever snake dost? Dost thou love him?" The voice came from the dark corner which was her father’s. He spoke with the voice of the cat that has caught the mouse and is now playing with it. "I knowest full mine mission, and dutifully wilst mine husband lie dead two months hence in midst summer." Cold voice, a pitch higher perhaps, and the eyes . . . "Very well, daughter," Accent on daughter. "Two months from now uneasy peace will be broken and Odhin blessed war be waged!" When Irma returned to her new home, with her fifty man escort, at night she was surprised to see a newly laid pebble road strewn with flowers and lit with what must have been hundreds of torches. As she entered the fortified town a gigantic crowd started screaming in joy. "Long live Lady Irma!" "Long life to the Clan!" "Lady Irma!" " O joyful day!" Despite the show, a certain element in the crowd was not missed by Irma’s intelligent eye- the large quantity of Eastern soldiers carefully scattered throughout the crowd so as to not draw attention. "Ah, my Lord Aarvelson. My pleasure at thy sight is indescribable by human words! Have I told thee, sire?" Said Irma as she entered Jan’s throne room, her face, her eyes, her very essence was smiling in delight. "Nay, my love thou hast said naught, what tidings doth thou keep?" Responded Jan beaming with the rays of the dark sun that was his soul. "Nay, thou art wrong in one respect, my lord! They are not new tidings but old, yet invaluable!" "My lady, what be this that thou uses to bring me in thine trap? I dost burn with anxiety at what news thou refuses to bestow upon my poor soul!" "Have I told thee that I dost love thee dearly?" "Nay, my Lady! But I too am much of same fault, for I have neglected to declare it unto you! And thou hast humbled me today with thine love!" Purge Hammer fell into a lover’s pleased laughter. "Jan, how didst thou know of my arrival?" "Of all people, thou, Irma, shouldst know that family is sacred, and I will spare no effort to please thou!" A month passed and Irma asked her husband to hold a feast for all his heroes and lords of his kingdom twenty-five days hence. Jan thought it a grandiose idea and sent out messengers almost instantly to a hundred of his most trusted men- the excuse for the feast was that each lord would renew his allegiance to Jan Aarvelson, Purge Hammer. The feast was scheduled to last ten days. Upon the twentieth day, the lords had begun to pour in through the wooden gates that protected the town. Upon the twenty-fifth day the feast began in full attendance. Wine was passed around the table while large fried animals were being chewed upon savagely. Inside the ring that was created by the arrangement of the tables every kind of entertainment was being showcased from bards dancers to slave fighters. On the twenty-eighth day the warriors reiterated their full and unquestioning allegiance to Purge Hammer. ‘Poison, poison, poison! How can I kill my husband and the man I love? I can not do such a thing! Nay I must! By the Gods I must or my clan is dead and innumerable lives lost in the process . . . Yet I love him true. Duty, duty, duty. Honor, duty, necessity. Why am I here? I am here because of my own plan! My plan to kill my livelihood and my happiness! Damned be the demon that didst whisper upon my ear a plan such as this! Alas, what do I do? The time of toasting is coming. I will be the bearer of that deathly poison to my husband. Ceremony commands it.’ Without knowing Irma was now walking toward fate, with a plate carrying her beloved’s pale head in the form of poison. Down the aisle toward the Lord. ‘He that doth dig another’s grave shall he himself fall into it. Duty. Love. Honor. Love. Necessity. Love. Death. Love. Shall I spill the wine? Duty. The faces. Staring at me they expect me to do something. Do they know? I am I telling them? Can they see it? Irma was one step away from Jan’s thrown, yet she was frozen in her own thoughts, she was unable to make the last step. The lords were all looking at her, waiting. Waiting. She made the final step- trembling. "Forgive me, sire!" Whispered Irma, her whole body shaking, lips barely able to form the words. "Relax, my Lady. The pressure is superficial; it does not exist. We are alone, ignore the rest. We are alone. Relax," Jan tried to soothe her as he took the poison cup from the plate. He raised the cup high and the lords started chanting in unison: "Purge Hammer! Purge Hammer! Purge Hammer!" The guards began beating upon their shield with their swords in a rhythmic chant of power bestowed upon one head, and one head alone. The ultimate personality cult: adoration, fear, respect, love, and brotherhood. One goal, one flag, one sword and One Man- Jan Aarvelson. Purge Hammer! Purge Hammer! Purge Hammer! "Jan! No!" Irma was a second too late, the snake had bit. The cup was empty. And the dying man that looked with sad, sad eyes into Irma’s eyes. Eyes no longer of beauty, intelligence or wisdom but of pure desperation and insanity. The room was frozen. The overwhelming amount of information was blocking every man in the room. There were only two people left, deadlocked in sorrow. "I love you," Were the last words of the cruel monster that was Purge Hammer. The words of him that cannot feel. Irma tore a dagger from a nearby warrior, frozen in amazement. She unsheathed the gleaming knife and drove it through her throat. In northern Denmark two seas meet. The North Sea to the west and the Baltic Sea to the east. The North Sea is cold and the Baltic Sea is comparatively warmer. If you walk or swim straight where they meet you will neither feel cold nor warm, and if you stray too far you’ll get lost. The souls of Jan and Irma meet there but they can never be truly together.