Korra grunted in pain as she was dragged over yet another bump in the ground, the reverberations traveling up her already sore body. The hood on her head stifled all vision and much of her hearing, and all she could smell was her own sweat and whatever previous victim had been inside this wretched thing. Alphas, betas, even a few omegas from what she could smell, had all worn the sack at some point, and all were equal in their suffering.

The guards were not gentle as they continued to drag her along, her legs hitting every bump and crack in the floor and bouncing along behind her, sending ripples up her body, and causing her pain with each step the men took. Her ragged prison shirt and pants provided no protection from the harsh stone underneath her. Her bare feet were scraped and scuffed along with the rest of her. The King's men had not been gentle in their capture and subsequent treatment of her.

Within the hood, she winced and groaned and grunted with each motion that carried her forwards. Of course it didn't carry very far considering she was also gagged, which under other circumstances could be fun, but considering where she was headed, she knew that she wasn't in for much pleasure, or really any at all for that matter.

No, for she was headed for none other than the castle's courtyard. Known as, "The Blood Square" for its infamous use in torture and execution sessions, Korra had no doubt what awaited her once she reached her destination: PAIN, and lots of it, likely followed by an equally gruesome and bloody death. Either way, The Blood Square would live up to its name today, with her as its latest victim.

The further the guards dragged her, the more she slumped and the more fearful she became. She knew anyone around her would be able to smell it, and as she heard the sounds of the waiting crowd growing and then felt it as they passed out in to open air, she could feel her body trembling, veritably shaking in fear. Which, she supposed, is exactly what the King wanted, for her, and all the victims who entered this blood soaked square of pain and death.

Before long the guards dragged her to a stop, shoving her up against what felt like a wooden post, and she could feel the metal of shackles clap around her wrists. The hood was brutally yanked from her head, and she hissed, blinking her eyes against the sudden brightness. Her long hair, hung haphazardly around her face, unbound, unwashed, and wild.

As her vision adjusted, she could see the large crowd below the raised platform of stone where the pole was located. She watched as they jostled each other, some yelling insults at her, shaking their fists in the air. She could smell the scent of the crowd, and it was not encouraging. They radiated hostility and anger. They hungered for blood, her blood. A few of them threw things at her, rocks, rotten food, chunks of wood, whatever they had to hand. She ducked her head and weathered the barrage. There was no other choice.

She scanned the faces, men women and children, silently pleading with them, with her eyes, with her scent, with a neck she bared as much as her position allowed to show submission, hoping for some sign of mercy, of remorse. She found none, each one of them filled with anger, hate, each one hoping to see her suffer for a crime she knew herself to be innocent of.

She looked around, spotting King Hiroshi on a throne set up underneath a roof of wood, a goblet of wine and bowl of fruit sat next to him on a table, and he was being fanned by a servant girl. The chairs around him were empty however. There was no sign of the Queen, or of Asami.

What did you expect, she chided herself. She's a princess. She doesn't actually love you, despite what she may have said.

But she gave herself to you, another part of her argued. She must feel something. She shook her head slightly.

Who are you kidding? You were just a fling for her, a little way of rebelling against her parents, and a way to get some thrills before she marries some rich, snobby alpha of a prince and lives happily ever after. You were just practice. Still, she thought morosely, it would've been nice to see her one last time before the end.

And she had no doubt that she would die today. For the crime that she was accused of, whether she had committed it or not, there was not likely to be any other sentence. Life imprisonment perhaps, or some form of bodily mutilation, most likely focused on her genitals, the removal of the cock that marked her as an alpha, was possible, but unlikely if she knew anything about Hiroshi Sato. When it came to his daughter, he tended to go all out.

She noticed someone familiar behind Hiroshi Sato however, and smiled sadly as well as she could through the gag. Tenzin, the monk's orange robes, and the blue arrow on his forehead, distinguishing him amidst the browns and greens and drab earthy colors of the rest, just as the king's elegant suit and cape, and of course, his crown, did him. Korra sincerely hoped that he hadn't brought Pema and the children along today. They most certainly did not need to see what was going to happen here.

Tenzin and the King seemed to be arguing about something, and by the way Tenzin was gesturing in her direction, it seemed like it was about her. She smiled again briefly. At least she had one supporter here today, not that it mattered at all. The argument abruptly ended when Hiroshi waved the man off, and with a huff, Tenzin snapped his cloak so it covered his arms once more, and was shooed away by a pair of spear-armed soldiers. Reluctantly, he left, and Korra's smile faded. Glancing between the angry crowd in front, and the angry King off to the side, she lowered her head in shame. There would be no sympathy here today for her.

The crowd seemed to be getting impatient, and she couldn't blame them, after all, she'd witnessed her fair share of sentences carried out here with just as much fervor and enthusiasm as these people here today. You've stood where they're standing, she chastised herself. You've thrown things, yelled for blood, for death, and how many of those people were innocent as you are, terrified and fearing for their lives, hoping someone, anyone would help them, hoping someone would save them from the pain?

But no one's going to save you from your pain, she reminded herself. No, you're going to suffer and die here in the dirt and blood of this square like a dog. And you're going to do it alone.

The crowd began to grow quiet, drawing Korra's attention, and she looked up from where she was kneeling against the post, to see that one of the King's officials had stepped up near her, and was motioning for silence.

Before long, the crowd had grown silent, and the man began to speak. "Fair people," he spoke, and Korra scoffed internally.

Fair? Have you smelled them? Plus they're killing me, who's innocent so they're not really fair in any sense of the word. Her smile at the thought didn't last long, as the man continued his speech, unrolling a scroll and reading from it. "We stand here today to bear witness to, and pass judgment on, the crime of this individual. Korra, family name unknown, resident Baker of Republic City, having no significant titles to your name, you have been accused and convicted henceforth, of the most dastardly and heinous crime, of the rape of Princess Asami Sato, daughter of our most wise and glorious King, Hiroshi Sato, and our most beloved and kind Queen, Yasuko Sato, and heiress to the throne."

Korra rolled her eyes, in what she hoped was a discreet matter. Royals, she groused. Always with the titles. Can't resist playing themselves up. Plus what was that bullshit about Hiroshi being wise and glorious? He's neither of those things as far as I'm concerned.

The official was still talking however, drawing her attention away from her inner dialogue.

"For this crime," the man spoke. "You are hereby sentenced to be henceforth whipped until death."

Korra felt her throat go dry. Of all the ways they could have killed her, none of them were particularly pleasant to think about, but this had to be one of the worst, simply because it would be so slow. It would draw her pain out, perhaps for hours as she was slowly, but surely bled out through her back, all the while feeling the awful sting of the whip on her body. She shuddered just thinking about it, tugging on the shackles on her writs in vain, as they were bolted directly in to the post and didn't budge.

"There is another way however."

Korra perked up at this. Another way? What is he talking about?

"Simply beg mercy," the man continued. "And the King may be magnanimous enough to grant it." Korra's hopes for freedom soared, then plummeted when she found out what the official meant by, "mercy," her eyes widening in shock as a large black hooded man stepped up in to her view, wielding an even larger double bladed axe.

The official turned to Korra, regarding her with a somewhat bored look as if he were superior to her in every way and he knew it.

Well he's not the one shackled to a post about to be whipped to death is he Korra? So I guess he is sort of superior in this moment.

"What say you," the man asked with a raised eyebrow.

Korra frowned. How did they expect her to answer with this gag in her mouth? And that's when the realization hit her once again. That's what he wants. He doesn't actually want to give me a chance of course. He just wants to see me suffer and die.

"Very well," the official spoke, waving away the axe-wielding executioner, and Korra's eyes went wide. "May the spirits have mercy on your wretched soul." With a snap, he rolled up the scroll, and bowed succinctly to the King and then to the crowd and moved off out of Korra's view.

Korra tried to protest, speaking through her gag, "Nmmph! Mmm dfmmmph mmph hmmph! Mmm dmmmph mmph hmmph!" I didn't rape her. I didn't rape her, Korra sounded off in her mind, wishing someone could hear her in her mind, as her message wasn't getting through due to the gag, and the increasing noise of the crowd. The crowd that was crying out for her blood…blood that would soon be spilled if the crack of a whip behind her was anything to go by.

It cracked several more times, each time making her flinch as whoever held it seemed to be testing it. She craned her head around and managed to catch a brief glimpse of the same large hooded man from before now wielding the whip rather than the axe. It was a nasty looking thing, long and tightly corded black leather, and unless she was mistaken, the business end had dozens of little metal hooks and blades tied in to it that looked like they could really do some damage. Well you're about to find out aren't you? Letting out little whimpers of fear, she tugged futilely at her bonds once more. Her neck was now sore due to her contortions earlier, and she wished her hands were free so she could massage it, but she knew in a few moments, a sore neck would be the least of her worries. She closed her eyes, trembling as she hugged the post tight, pressing her face against it, muscles tensed as she waited for the inevitable.

The crowd had even started chanting, "Blood! Blood! Blood!" And Korra was sure they were about to get it.

She was so prepared for the first strike, had been expecting it for so long, that when it came, it came as a complete shock. A line of searing pain across her back, the tearing of skin, the spilling of blood and she screamed in to the gag, fingers digging in to the wood of the post. The crowd cheered, and the whip fell across her back again, prompting another scream from her and more cheers from the crowd. The whip fell again, her body jerked, and she screamed, and then again, and then again, in a cycle: Whip, jerk, scream. Whip, jerk, scream. Whip, jerk, scream, and all the while the crowd cheered, and all the while, Korra bled, writhed, and prayed to the spirits for deliverance.

A/N: Just a medieval themed Omegaverse story I've been planning for some time. It won't be very long as I'm already rather overextended when it comes to major stories at the moment, but I just thought I'd share it with all of you. Enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated and encouraged!