The library was my favorite place in the castle. The scrolls were well cared for, having been translated and copied several times over in Latin, Frankish, and English. There were even a few scrolls written in the rough language of the Vikings across the sea. I had never seen the sea, but I had seen the Vikings.

I had been very young when the legendary Viking named Ragnar Lothbrok had come to Wessex. According to Father, the Viking king had sat me atop his shoulders, just to listen to my giggles.

Another Viking, a former monk called Athelstan, had been the one to put some of the harsh language into writing. It had explained a good amount of words, and some tips on how to pronounce others, but for the most part, my knowledge of the Northmen language was self taught. But thanks to him, I could learn these bits and pieces.

I had always been good at languages. I could speak four, if the Viking language was included. Mother had always said that my gift of learning was a blessing from God, and it became something Father echoed when he started to take notice.

Father had slept with my mother when she was no more than fifteen. I had been born in the dead of winter, daughter of a servant girl with no husband. By the time I was two years old, the whole castle knew who the father was. And Father had wasted no time bringing his bastard daughter into the castle, to be raised educated and proper, to save face.

The scroll was rough beneath my fingertips. I mouthed the foreign word, feeling it on my lips until I tried to pronounce it. It sounded weird to me, and I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Augusta?"

I looked up to see Averill enter, the castle's steward. He weaved the desks and shelves containing the scrolls until he stood in front of the desk I was at.

"Hello Averill," I greeted him, the sound of my own language feeling more natural than the harsh language of the Vikings. "What do you need?"

"Your half brother is demanding your presence." Averill replied. I bit the inside of my mouth. Always the need to bring up that he was a half brother. Averill looked down to the scrolls in front of me and blinked. "Funny you should be reading up on those."

"Why's that?" I asked, rolling the scrolls to put them back on their shelves.

Averill looked towards the door before leaning in. I followed suit, feeling a great stab of interest. "Ragnar Lothbrok has returned. He was just in the courtyard."

"Really?" I asked. "What's he doing back?"

"No one knows yet." Averill said. "Hurry and put those scrolls back. Prince Aethelwulf is not a patient man."

I hurried to put the scrolls back and then rushed out of the library to the Great Hall, where Aethelwulf was bound to be. On the way there, I couldn't help but notice how flustered and nervous the people of the court seemed to be.

Prince Aethelwulf was pacing in the Great Hall, his wife and sons watching. Judith noticed me first and left her sons to grab onto my hands.

"There you are, Augusta." Judith said. "Were you in the library?"

"I was." I replied. I looked past her to where Aethelwulf had stopped pacing. "Is it true? Ragnar Lothbrok was just in the courtyard?"

"He's in the dungeons now." Aethelwulf said grimly. "Until Father returns, that's where he'll remain. The cripple with him is closed off in seperate quarters."

I frowned as Judith and I went back into the center of the room where Aethelwulf had been pacing. "Cripple?" I asked.

"Ragnar wasn't alone." My half nephew, Aethelred said. "He had a cripple with him. Boy couldn't walk; we watched him drag himself to the gates."

Aethelwulf laughed loudly at it. "I can't wait to hear why Ragnar was traveling with him. The rest of their raiding party has to be somewhere nearby. Until then, no one is to leave the castle, let alone Winchester."

Judith nodded in agreement, putting her hand to rest on her second son's shoulder. Alfred reached up and touched his mother's hand gently.

With no other orders to give, Aethelwulf dismissed us all. He started towards the dungeons to go question Ragnar, while Judith disappeared to take Aethelred and Alfred to more studies. I was only alone for a moment before starting up the stairs to where the guest compartments were.

It wasn't hard to find where this so called cripple was being held after that. There were two armed guards outside of the door, but it didn't look like they were taking their job seriously. Their swords were sheathed and they were leaning against the wall and cracking jokes. I left the hall before they noticed and went back downstairs.

Gerard was the castle's head cook and he was always happy to give extra plates to me. I passed a handful of gold coins into his palm and he made a plate of bread, pork links, and a pile of various greens. I also grabbed a flagon of wine and a couple of goblets. Gerard gave me an odd look but didn't question it when I slid him two more golden coins.

This time when I entered the hall, the guards snapped to attention. "Open the door." I commanded. The two of them glanced at each other and motioned with my full arms and hands. "It's food, not plans to take over the castle. Open the door."

The cripple was sitting on a chair in a corner of the room. He straightened when the door opened and completely stared at me in confusion when he saw me. I ignored him and finally set the food and drink down before taking a seat at the table in the center of the room. I glanced around, seeing a small bed in the corner of the room, and a small window overlooking the courtyard.

I had thought long and hard on my way up here, trying to remember how to pronounce everything. I cleared my throat loudly and said in what must've sounded like a terrible imitation of words, "They gave you a decent enough room, I suppose."

If he was looking at me before with confusion, this look was somewhere close to alarm. There was a long moment of silence until he said, "You know my language?"

I mentally congratulated myself for understanding him. "A little. Hard to learn when no one teaches you."

He tilted his head at me and slid out of his chair. I started to get up to help him but stopped myself when I saw him dragging himself across the floor, moving much faster than I thought he'd have been able to. I settled back down in my chair as he climbed and twisted himself onto the only other chair at the table. We now sat across from each other.

"Who are you?" He asked bluntly.

"My name is Augusta," I said, hoping I was saying everything right.

"Are you a slave?"

"No. My father is King Ecbert."

He blinked. "So you're a princess?"

I shook my head again. "I'm a bastard. My mother was a servant."

He nodded and finally looked away from me to the food in front of us. He pointed to it. "This is for me?" I nodded. He looked back to me with icy blue eyes. "I am Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok."

I blinked. "Ragnar's son? Why'd you and your father come here?"

Ivar completely ignored my question by stuffing his face with food. I took the flagon and poured a goblet of wine for myself. Ivar followed suit once I was finished and he drank deeply until the entire goblet was drained.

"Why are you here?" Ivar countered when he finished. He had his ice blue eyes narrowed at me.

"I've never spoken to a Viking before." I replied. "Ragnar is under watch right now by nearly half the guard. It was easier to come up here and talk to you."

Ivar smirked. "I can tell you've never spoken to a Viking before. You keep messing up your words."

"Which ones?" I asked before I stop myself.

Ivar kept smirking and looked like he was trying not to laugh at me. "Your accent makes it hard to understand at times. When you first spoke, it sounded like you told me that the room was unfit."

I blinked and felt my face heat up. Ivar met my gaze, keeping his smile on his face. "You are really that worried about how you sound? Silly Christian." He shook his head and poured himself some more wine.

I hesitated, debating hard in my mind before speaking. "I'm not a Christian." I said to my goblet. Ivar looked up and stared, raising an eyebrow at me. I sighed heavily before drinking, figuring I might as well go ahead and tell him, seeing as it didn't matter anymore.

So I shrugged. "There is no God." I said. Ivar blinked at me. I met his gaze evenly and waited for him to say something.

"There are gods," He said, putting more emphasis on the plural word.

"Maybe for you." I said. "I grew up listening to how our God is all good and how He forgives your sins but-" I cut myself off and shook my head. Ivar watched me intently as I tried to pick out my words. "I am a bastard, Ivar. There's no other way around that fact. Because my father decided to sleep with a woman who is not his wife, I'm the one who isn't forgiven by God. I'm the sinful bastard, born out of disloyalty. That's how it's always been for me. If there really was a God, why would He say things like that? Why would He be so cruel?"

Ivar was still watching me with his intense blue eyes. I started to get uncomfortable, so I gestured to him with my goblet. "What about your people? How do you all treat bastards?"

"Whether a child is legitimate is neither here nor there." Ivar said almost immediately, finally breaking his stare. I frowned at his words. Ivar leaned forward on the table and moved the plate and two goblets and flagon around, grouping them all together in the center of the table. "If a man has four children, two by his wife and two by different slaves, all four children will get an equal piece of their father's land when he dies."

Ivar separated the plate, flagon and two goblets into four different areas, all of them being even. He looked back to me when he was done explaining. I nodded, understanding this type of succession. I looked back to him and said, "Here whoever is oldest gets everything."

"Then what does the younger ones get?"

"Titles usually. They'll still be important, but they wouldn't be king or lord or whatever their father's title is."

"You won't be a queen?"

"No. I'd be lucky to marry anywhere near that high. I've heard that Ragnar's a king; will you be king when he dies?"

Ivar's eyes turned dark for a moment and he paused before saying, "If Odin allows it."

I envied his faith in his gods. I leaned forward, taking my goblet back in the process. "Tell me more about your gods. Odin's one of them? What's he the god of?"

Ivar's eyes flashed brightly as he leaned forward too. I apparently found an interesting topic for him. "Odin is king. He travels the worlds, searching for knowledge. Once, he plucked out his own eye to gain knowledge of everything."

"If he scooped out his eye for knowledge of everything," I said, after taking a drink from the goblet. "Why does he continue searching the world for it?"

"There's always new knowledge, Augusta." Ivar said simply, his accent over pronouncing the individual syllables. I felt myself smile at the sound of it. Ivar stared at me for a moment before the corners of his mouth turned upwards too.

The door to the room swung open and one of the guards burst in. I leaned back in my chair, leaving Ivar continuing to be leaning forward. The guard looked between the two of us before his hard gaze rested on me.

"Your presence is being requested by Princess Judith, Augusta." The guard said, his voice sounding clipped. "You might want to go to her."

I looked at Ivar, who met my gaze, having not understood what the guard had just said. I sat the goblet down. "It seems I must leave you, Ivar. But know that this conversation has been the best I've had in a long time."

Ivar stared at me as I stood up and left the room, and even after I left the room I could still feel his ice blue gaze on my back.