Pain, that's all I could comprehend waking up. My entire body hurt. I was no longer in the sea but bent over and restrained against the ship's platform at the stern. The familiar sharp crack of a whip slicing through the air made contact against my back, tearing apart my flesh.

I bit down, muffling my cry. My attackers never gave me a chance to soak up the first strike as they brought their whip down across my back again. My back was pulsing and throbbing with every lash. I thrashed against the chains that had my arms restrained and tightened down in. I had lost count of how many lashes they inflicted, but I was sure it had left a mess over my back.

I inhaled a short breath, holding onto it as I waited for another strike only to release it when no strike followed.

Thank the gods. I don't think I could've lasted much longer.

There was shuffling of boots coming near me, followed with laughter. My body began violently shaking, finally being allowed to absorb the damage inflicted. My warm blood trailed down my back, and I could even taste some of my blood inside my mouth.

A hand roughly snatched onto the back of my hair, pressing my face against the wood. Another hand had unlaced my pants, dropping them to my ankles. I scrunched up my face wanting to scream out, but nothing escaped my lips except for a pathetic whimper. Even the inside of my throat hurt. There was weight applied against my right shoulder, pinning me further against the platform.

Olaf's voice broke through the crew's laughter as he cursed my attackers in his Norwegian tongue. What was to come next, I knew, was inevitable. I tried relaxing my body for the pain. I bit down so hard at the first assault I'm surprised I didn't crack any of my teeth. An agony of excruciating pain was scoring through me at the sound of rhythmic beating. I thrashed hard underneath my attackers in vain at every violent thrust.

I scratched and dug my fingernails into the barked wood to the point my nails were breaking off, and my fingertips were bleeding. Skin slapping against skin and grunting above me conjured a flow sickness to travel up my throat. I had to fight to swallow it back down. I refused to give any of these worthless piles of shit the satisfaction. They were laughing, and somewhere a good distance away, Olaf was still shouting at them.

I was too weak, far past exhaustion, as my eyelids grew heavy. I was welcoming the darkness to take over.

'Stay awake, Boneless!' shouted Sigurd's voice distantly.

I snapped my eyes open to find my dead brother's form standing translucently beside me as he stared with a heated hatred at the man over me. I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to clear my vision up.

It's all in my head, Sigurd's dead. I killed him.

Sigurd reached out, gently placing his hand around my neck. I gasped because, for a moment, the pain had dulled around me as I stared him in his unique snake eye.

'I told you, you're living your life for the both of us now. Do not let them win. We are the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. Take this pain and humiliation they're inflicting onto you and let it manifest inside. Let it manifest into Ivar's fury!'

I wanted to cry as Sigurd's body faded out into nothing. No whip strikes or being taken by any of these crewmembers hurt more than seeing my dead brother. My biggest regret, a regret I'd live with.

I have no family, army, or housecarls to offer me their protection. I have no titles to solidify my status. I'm just Ivar the Boneless, the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. I've been sold and tossed around throughout this year as if I were mere livestock. I've been beaten, defiled, raped, and tortured more times than I can even count. Sigurd is right. It's time to fight back.

I squeezed my eyes shut when a new person had mounted and, with no patience, took me. Almost as if my insides were being torn in half, the person above me wanted this to be as painful and rough as possible.

'The only reason you're still alive, Ivar, is because you make a good fuck. You should thank God for the mercy that I'm not taking your head,' said Niall.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, learning who was violating me now. I bit down, trying to even my breathing.

'Or maybe the gods will give me your head instead,' I spat.

The movement halted above me. The only noise was the ocean's tides. Even the oarsmen had halted their rowing. A low chuckle vibrated against my back, and a sharp thrust was rewarded for my defiantly. Niall resumed his punishment and, with every thrust, sent up a burning sensation inside of me. I wanted to pass out, but I fought to stay conscious. I needed to remember every infliction they committed.

The first time I was raped back in East Anglia, the event had shattered me inside. For the longest time, I thought I was weak for allowing such a thing to happen. I would constantly flinch when someone touched me, or I'd wake up unable to breathe from night terrors of the incident replaying itself. I was so ashamed and embarrassed by what happened that I hid the information from everyone. Getting raped didn't make me weak. It was hiding from the aftermath that did.

Today though, everything had changed. I was no longer the innocent Ivar the Boneless. The boy that craved approval and to be loved and admired had died a year ago. There was no embarrassment or shame brewing inside me as the crewmen took what they wanted. Instead, they had ignited a fire within me. As hands gripped over me and each man claimed me, I never released a sound or shed any tears. My mind was hardening.

One day I will kill them. One day I will make them suffer as I've suffered.

By the end of my humiliation, my entire body was violently shaking. The crewmembers had dragged me to the center mass of the ship with my pants still dangling at my ankles. They latched the chains of my shackles to another chain, securing me to the ship's mass. As they secured the chains, the crew released their hold on me, causing me to fall forward into outstretched arms. I stiffened at the contact only to ease into the embrace at the realization it was Olaf. He pushed my soaked pants up, fastening them. A lump of metal struck my leg while Olaf worked on the knot.

My eyes widened at the discovery. The knife I had killed Halftan with was still on me. I buried my face deep into Olaf's chest, trying to calm my body down. Olaf's arms tightly secured me in a protective hold as he whispered comforting words, almost as if I were a damaged child. I wasn't damaged. I was awakening, a threat they'll soon wish they never evoked.

Niall was shouting at his oarsmen to row like usual. It was his crewmen that deepened the fire inside of me. They laughed and bragged about how I was and compared me to other whores they slept with. Snarling lowly, I clenched my fingers over the knife's handle that remained hidden inside my pants.

Please don't abandon me, Allfather, and I swear to you, I'll bring my entire wrath down on this realm.

I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering as the sun began to set. I nuzzled my face further into Olaf's chest, and his arms tightened around me, bringing me in closer. I winced at the slight movement from my right arm. It wasn't broken, but I had feared it might be dislocated. It probably happened when they pulled us out of the water or when they had held me down. If I were to use this knife, I'd have to rely on my weak hand.

The slaves had brought their oars in and had bedded down. Commotion had broken out from Niall and his son Bran at the rear of the ship. Probably another drunken quarrel.

'I have a plan,' I whispered. 'But you have to trust me.'

Olaf rested his chattering jaw on top of my head.

'I trust you, I always had, ever since you were placed on this ship a year ago. I promise you, Ímar, I'll kill those men one day.'

'My name isn't Ímar. I'm sorry I lied to you. It's Ivar.'

Olaf chuckled lightly, reaching for the pendent I held onto from the servant who had died in my hands.

'I've always known you were Ivar the Boneless. I recognized your brothers at Yorvik. I thought to myself, damn, this poor bastard was betrayed by his brothers as I was with mine. I knew it was fate that we met. I can still feel it. Our fates are intertwined. I promised myself that day I'd follow and protect you because if I didn't, who would,' said Olaf as he tied the pendant around my neck.

I pushed my head up, looking my friend in his pale blue eyes.

'I never asked for your protection.'

'No, you didn't, but you have it regardless, always. We're brothers, you and I, not by blood, but by something more. Soon, one day, people will learn to fear and respect the names Olaf and Ivar.'

I smiled, taking in what Olaf just confessed. It felt good knowing someone cared about me. Closing my eyes, I began to concentrate on my breathing. What I was about to do was untested and stupid, but the gods gave me this gift for a reason. Exhaling an even breath, I cleared my mind, only concentrating on the sound of the ocean's current.

When all noise dulled out to silence, I opened my eyes to find myself floating in a black abyss. I was awestruck at this new scenario. There were ripples around me of visions being played out. I roamed through the abyss, floating past different images, not recognizing any of the people in them. I winced at a sudden pain emitting through my chest.

It's working. I need to stay here a bit longer.

I gasped, seeing a vision of a woman I thought I'd never see again. Cara. The beautiful young Irishwoman who had stolen my heart a couple of years ago. The only woman I ever slept with. I had freed her from slavery, hoping she'd stay with me only for her to sneak away in the middle of the night, choosing her precious Ireland over me. She looked to be in panic inside the ripple, and as much as I didn't want to harvest any feelings for her, I couldn't convince myself to look away.

I floated over towards the ripple, reaching out to it. A wave of cramps passed through me, but other than that, I was standing next to Cara. I towered over her tiny frame as the top of her head only reached my neck. I couldn't take my eyes off her beautiful short round face accompanied by her warm eyes. Her dark hair was bounded back and wrapped with a scarf concealing the center portion of her hair. She was no longer dressed in her peasant wool dress but wearing a dress made of wealthy materials. We were outside in a grassy field next to a palisade gate, standing in front of a guard.

'Please, my son, he's ill. He needs help,' said Cara in the Danish tongue.

Son? Whose son!

'Piss off Irish. This settlement is for the Northmen only.'

'Please, my son, he's Danish. His name is Ivarr,' said Cara holding up the tiny bundle in her arms.

'Naming your whelp a Norse name doesn't make them Norse,' said the guard shooing her away.

Ivarr? Her son is part Dane?

A tall shield-maiden approached behind the guard peering at the wrapped bundle in Cara's arms with the slightest hint of a smile.

'He is Northern all my sons are. His name is Ivarr Ivarsson, son of Ivar the Boneless grandson to Ragnar Lothbrok.'

What! My son, wait, sons?

The shield-maiden and the guard argued in hushed voices, but I was more interested in looking at my son. He was so tiny and frail, heavily bundled up and secured in Cara's arms. I walked behind her only to notice she had two small bundles strapped to her back.

I have three sons, three beautiful boys. How was this possible? I only slept with her once. Inside a bath at that. Could a woman become pregnant that easily or is this a trick?

'Fine,' shouted the guard pointing his finger at the shield-maiden. 'But you get to explain this to Earl Ásl that you allowed this Irish whore in with her whelps. They're your responsibility.'

'You bastard, call my sons whelps or Cara a whore again, and I'll gut you here and now!' I shouted out in vain to unheard ears.

The slightest jaw movement from the shield-maiden told me she was clenching her teeth at being ridiculed. She shared a striking resemblance to the servant who had died in my hands. Only to remind me and worsen my guilt at what I did. The shield-maiden waved for Cara to follow her, holding her hands out and taking my son Ivarr in her arms.

'Any kin of Ragnar Lothbrok is a welcomed guest here in Dublin. Please follow me will get your son to a healer.'

'Thank you so much.'

'Please call me Gunnhild. I'll be looking after you while you stay here. Where is Ivar Ragnarsson?'

Cara looked down at the grass as she followed Gunnhild inside the settlement.

'I'm here!'

'Northumbria, I imagine,' mumbled Cara.

'He doesn't know. I'd assume Ivar has many unclaimed children,' said Gunnhild smiling down at the baby in her arms.

'No, Ivar's not like that. He's gentle and kind,' said Cara as she maneuvered the two bundles from her back to the front of her.

Cara, sweet Cara.

I peered at my boys in Cara's arms. I wanted to see their legs to make sure none of them were cursed as I was. I was fearful I passed my disease to Ivarr. All three of my sons had their mother's dark brown hair, but they inherited my eyes. I was able to get a good look at the boy in Cara's left arm. I wanted to cry, staring into those gorgeous blue eyes. I've seen him before when I was fever-sickened with rot. This was Sigtryggr. Out of all my sons, I knew staring into those eyes he would be my problem child, a real pain in the ass.

I screamed out at the piercing pain in my heart. I was whirled out of the vision floating back into the vacant abyss curled over to try and ease the cramping.

'He's dead! Ímar's dead. You killed him!' shouted Olaf's voice.

I snapped my eyes open, trying to look for Olaf. The volume of his voice sounded like he was beside me.

'What do you mean he's dead? Wake up, Ivar!' shouted Niall.

I cried out as another wave of pain struck throughout me. Clenching my eyes shut, I concentrated on returning to Midgard. Air, that was the first thing my lungs screamed at me when I returned to Midgard. Cracking my eyes open, the brightness of the sun almost caused me to squint and give myself away. Niall was hovering over me, unlatching my shackles from the center mass of his ship. There was warm fluid trailing down my nostrils, and my chest cramped from being denied air for so long.

Once Niall unlatched my shackles from the ship, he bent over me, grabbing onto my tunic at the shoulders. My heart was pounding inside my eardrums, knowing everything depended on this moment. Feeding off my adrenalin, I snatched the knife tucked away inside my pants, bringing the blade to Niall's wrist slicing through his tender skin. Before any of the crew knew what was happening, I inhaled sharply and latched onto Niall's left leg, unbalancing him and bringing him to his knees. I rolled out from under him, gripping onto his neck, pushing my body up over him, and holding the blade to his throat. I was seething with anger as I firmly held the knife against his flesh.

The slaves halted their rowing. All eyes were on me. The crew had their swords unsheathed, and Niall's son had his bow and arrow at the ready aimed in on me. I smirked at Bran as I held his father's life in my hands.

'Unbind all the shackles on us! Or you'll be bailing out this sack of shit's blood off this ship,' I said, tapping the blade against Niall's throat.

Niall was violently fuming under me, which only made my smirk widen to a menacing grin. Bran stared at his father for the longest time with a blank expression. He transferred his gaze on me. He lowered his bow turning around towards the crewmembers conversing lowly. After a few head nods of agreement, Bran turned back towards me with a stupid smirk I wanted to smack off his face permanently.

'Then kill him. You'll be doing us a favor,' said Bran chuckling with his crew.

My smirk quickly faded, realizing my mistake. Niall was shouting at his son, but I was oblivious to all sounds. For the briefest moment, I had thought I was free. Only to have that dream shatter in front of me. Biting down, I tightened my grip on the hilt of the knife, tearing deep into Niall's throat, ripping apart his flesh while I screamed out in frustration.

An arrow struck me in my dislocated shoulder, sending me backward. The crew charged at me. One of them stepped down on my wrist, forcing me to release the knife. Bran stared at his dead father before crouching next to me. His grin was ever plastered on his stupid face as he pushed his hair back, winking at me.

'Thank you for your help Ivar. You were always my favorite slave. My father wanted to keep you, but there is a king in Alba that will pay a pretty coin for the heathen that mutilated his son. Valuable, my idiot father said that your worth is far more than that of an easy coin. As you can see, we had a fallout because the only value you bring us is your head exchanged for coin.'

I scrunched my face up as two of the crewmembers lifted me to my feet.

'I will kill you one day,' I said, holding my gaze staring Bran down in the eyes. 'If you sell me to King Giric, and I escape, I will find you, and I will kill you, each of you.'

Bran chuckled, shaking his head and patting me on the cheek.

'I'll risk your empty threat for the weight of your head in coin. Tie him next to his lover, soon will be rich men!'

The crew cheered as I was slammed down on the floorboards, and my shackled wrist being raised over my head latched next to Olaf's. I leaned my head against the wooden center mass as the ship began rowing to a new destination. My uncontrolled tremors that shook my body weren't helping the situation. My dislocated shoulder was throbbing, and the arrow I was impaled with was still lodged in where my blood began soaking my tunic. I could feel Olaf's eyes on me, I knew he had questions, but I was too heated at my defeat.

'You were dead, Ímar, and now you're alive if I weren't chained, I'd kill you now for scaring me like that.'

I exhaled loudly, glaring at Bran, who was walking among the rower benches.

'Yeah, sorry,' I said nonchalantly.

'We're to be sold to this King Giric, huh. This might be good news, though.'

'Nope,' I said, wincing as I brought my gaze up towards the sails banging the back of my head against the mass in frustration. 'I killed his son in battle. He'll want revenge.'

'Oh, but you fought him fairly right, surely he'll respect that his son died honorably.'

I exhaled a painful breath and cracked a small smile shaking my head.

'I abducted a few of his women villagers and hung them from trees and set them ablaze while they were still alive.'

I could hear Olaf opening and closing his mouth a few times. Most likely unsure how to respond to that information. I was fucked. I was leaving one shitty master only to be sailing towards my execution.

I'll never get to see my sons. I don't even know one of their names. They'll grow up fatherless like me. Dammit. Why Odin. Wait, Hvitserk, he's looking for me. I need to tell him where I'm at if that's even possible.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to return to the vacant realm of prophecies and visions. I opened my eyes, growling only to find myself still on the ship.

Is there a stupid limit on how many times I can travel between realms? How in Niflheim does the damn seer do this. If the Ancient One were here, he'd tell me the gods can take their goodwill at any moment. Well, the gods better start giving me some damn goodwill right about now.