The Great and The Boneless - Chapter 1
With his vision cloaked in darkness, Alfred had a moment alone with his guilt and regrets. Why was he so weak? So stupid to get himself captured by ungodly men, maybe they weren't even men but demons sent from God to punish those who have sinned against him? Was this his penance? To be tortured and killed by these heathens because he was a child of adultery?
He shivered as the cold lick against his skin, teasing him of the pain that was to come. The sound of the barbarians chanting and screaming throbbed against his ears, a warning and a welcome to his new world of torment. He prayed silently, hoping that God would reconsider but he heard nothing but harrowing silence.
They took of his blindfold and as it slipped from his eyes, a white light filled his vision. It came from the stained glass window at the back of the room, the Archangel, Gabriel, painted reverently on it. He stood solemnly with a scribe in his right hand and a pen in the other.
"Save me!" Alfred whispered desperately but Gabriel refused to answer, instead he looked at him with sympathetic eyes. Alfred began to open his mouth but before he could utter a word, the stained glass came crashing down and his hope along with it. He looked at the perpetrator, a wide grin spread across his face and the blood of his brothers he killed in the Battle of York still fresh on his skin. He sat abjectly on his iron throne, the stone that he flung sat temptingly at his feet.
"Gabriel can't save you now, Christian!" Ivar snarled and his demonic savages jeered.
Alfred would have spat at him if not for his unexplainable knowledge of Christian angelology and his resemblance to someone he knew years ago. His azure eyes reminded him of a boy he met when he was younger and a comical chess game that he undoubtedly won. If he looked deeper into those blue eyes he could see that young boy but now all he saw - was the Devil.
Ivar could feel it too, a mysterious connection between them. Had he met him before? He tilted his head and surveyed his features: his lush brown locks and slightly chubby cheeks brought no recollect. But his eyes held an innocence he inexplicably felt the need to protect as if the desire to do so was bestowed upon him from another.
Simultaneously, their eyes widen as they came to the realisation of who they were standing in front of.
"Ivar?" Alfred asked buoyantly.
Ivar cocked his head, surprised. "Alfred?"
The hall was subdued with silence at these two acquaintances untimely reunion. Ivar could feel his men stare at him with disgust, he could hear them questioning their choice in choosing him as the leader of the Great Army. He couldn't have them doubting his loyalties, especially with Ubbe gone and Hvitserk determined to prove himself as a son of Ragnar. He had to make a decision.
"Find out what he knows," he ordered. "Use any means necessary."
Ivar could hear Alfred calling his name, begging him to take back his command but he refused to listen and drowned him out under the sea of chaotic excitement as his ravenous men dragged him outside. Part of him hoped that he'd survive to torture, the other hoped he'd die so that he wouldn't have to face him again. But whatever happened next, Ivar knew it would change him forever.