Amidst insurrection's clamour, we may easily forget just what it is for which we strive... isn't it dancing? Scented shoulders? Pupils widened by desire or wine?
How purposeful was your vendetta, how benign, almost like surgery... your foes assumed you sought revenge upon their flesh alone, but you did not stop there... you gored their ideology as well.
"Give me a Viking funeral." you said. That isn't much. That isn't much to ask. Not after all you did. You came out of an abattoir unharmed, but not unchanged. And saw freedom's necessity: not just for you, but for us all. You saw, and seeing, dared to do.