Egil stood in front of the bishop's prison cell smiling at me with a tint of red forming over his face.

Why does he always blush around me?

The poet's fingers gripped his Thor's hammer amulet around his neck.

'He hasn't stopped praying since I arrived, lord. Or at least that's what I believe he's saying, he could be cursing me,' said Egil softly.

I smirked at the comment walking over to the door. Egil fidgeted when I stood beside him as he opened the door. I shot him a glare only deepening his blush, he quickly turned away from me. To my irritation, the bishop was praying to his god, loudly.

These damn Christians and their disgusting love for their nailed god.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped inside the dimly lit room. Bishop Heahmund was standing near the small window in the room staring out not even faltering from his prayers from my arrival. No, the bishop wasn't one to be timid he was a skilled warrior with an annoying love for his god. The arrival of any heathen such as myself wouldn't disrupt his words.

Snatching an apple from off his untouched plate of food I leaned down to the wooden floorboards sitting down. Positioning my legs while grimacing from a stab of pain on my right leg. The Christian still praying looked over towards me.

I unintentionally took in a sharp breath staring into his eyes.

'Blessed is the, that walked not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standing in the way of the sinners, nor sitting in the seat of the scornful. But in his delight is in the law of the lord and in his law, he meditates night and day. And he shall be planted like a tree by the rivers of water, that bring it forth his fruit in his season,' said Bishop Heahmund.

I threw the remains of the apple towards his feet in response to his prayer.

'You call me a heathen, but to me I'm godly, I live by the gods.'

'There is only one God,' said Bishop Heahmund interrupting me leaving his place from the window crouching down in front of me.

I smirked at his denial welcoming my pet's challenge.

'But I've seen other gods, I've seen Odin. The Allfather with my own eyes.'

'They are the devils work,' said Bishop Heahmund staring intently at me. I chuckled at his rejection as he continued. 'He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us and lead us into evil.'

'What is evil, hmm?'

'Slaughter of the innocent,' said Bishop Heahmund sullenly looking away from me. He's probably still upset about Hvitserk killing that scout.

'You slaughter when it suits you.'

I almost chuckled because that earned me a scornful look from the Christian.

'He who chooses to be heathen, is not innocent, but I can show you the ways of God. I can bring you to salvation and eternal life.'

This time I did chuckle at the Christian's suggestion shaking my head.

'Do you know who I am?'

'Of course, you are Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and many there are who fear you.'

'Hmm, but not you,' I said pointing at him with a smirk.

'No, I fear no man, no matter how wicked.'

Who in the Allfather's name was he to stand there judging and creating accusations stating I was evil. I clenched my teeth tightly together remembering my brother Sigurd Snake in the Eye. I had accidently lost control of my anger and killed my own flesh and blood. I hate myself for that. I hate the way Ubbe looks at me now. I am not a monster.

'People tell stories about other people, people they don't know. Have never met and yet they still curse them and tell lies about them. Isn't that true?' I asked.

'Yes, people tell lies about our savior.'

'Well perhaps they tell lies about me as well.'

'How would I know,' said Bishop Heahmund staring at me as if he was challenging my suggestion.

What is it about this man that I find so interesting? Like I need his approval, that I crave it. Almost as if her were my father or Floki.

Not releasing my smirk, I dug into my pant pocket pulling out my map made of loincloth. I unrolled it laying it on the floor in front of me.

'I'll give you the chance to find out,' I said and pointing to the kingdom located directly below Northumbria. 'What is this kingdom called?'

Bishop Heahmund sat down looking at the map and then back at me as if he were trying to understand my intent.

'That is the Kingdom of Mercia.'

'Who rules Mercia?'

My Christian pet, no, the Christian stared at me for a while reluctant to respond. After a brief delay he gazes at the map again.

'It's ruled by King Burgred and under the protection from the Kingdom of Wessex, of King Æthelwulf.'

'We're going to go on a journey,' I said smiling at the Christian. 'You'll be accompanying me to Mercia, to talk with this King Burgred.'

'I'm already on a journey, I refuse to help assist in heathen ways.'

'Aren't we all on a journey, Christian? I'm not asking you to change your beliefs or to kill Christians. All I'm asking is for you to simply join me in the negotiations with King Burgred,' I said looking around the room. Scrunching up my face at an idea then with a smirk I turned back to him. 'Unless you want to be crucified, that is?'

'I do not fear death, as I look into the demonic blue eyes of the nonbeliever. Now I understand, for I should not fear what the lord has chosen to place me amongst the sinners to try my will. I will not give into temptation. I will remain true and trust in him.'

I blinked a few times. What? Well, I am now torn between bashing my war pick into my skull, or his.

'So, is that a yes?' I asked rubbing my eyes completely confused on what the Christian just said.

The Christian gave me a curt nod of his head staring at me so intensely I was starting to get nervous. Is he planning on pouncing on me now? Right, I better leave.

'Ok, I wasn't sure, with your Christian prayers and all.'

I Grabbed my crutch and got up, concentrating on keeping my breathing steady. I ignored the stabs of pain running over my legs as I forced them up.

'Why haven't you killed me? Why spare me? What are you planning Ivar, son of Ragnar Lothbrok?'

I have no interest telling him I admire him.

'I already told you, you're still useful to me,' I said walking over to the door.

A moan escaped my lips as a cramp enhanced on my right shin, feeling as though arrows were shooting me. Frowning, I gripped tightly onto my crutch. Great, now I look weak in front of the warrior Christian.

'My army treats Hvitserk, my brother, as if he is the only leader of this army,' I said unsure why I was opening to the Christian. 'No matter how many battles I coordinate, they will only respect the other commanding the lines at the front of a shield wall. Regardless if I brought them victory over and over. All they see is a crippled.'

I didn't give the Christian time to respond, and maybe he wasn't going to either. I walked out the door, leaving my housecarl to guard him. I did not trust any of the other warriors to guard him. The Christian was under my protection.

I stayed hidden inside my house for the remainder of the day, planning on the invasion into Mercia.

It looked like the best route would be to take the Trent River that ran through our town and take the ships sailing them south into Mercia. If this map is accurate, I will come across a few towns while sailing. Remaining unseen would be out of the option.

I contemplated on taking horses and riding south, but the size of the army I needed would attract too much attention.

The best option was to take the ships and sail. Possibly use one of these towns as our stronghold into Mercia.

Rubbing my eyes and glancing out the window, it was nightfall already. My stomach started reminding me I had skipped breakfast this morning. I got up from my chair, heading towards the hall where I knew my army was feasting.

Walking inside the hall, I was greeted with laughter and shouting of people telling their battle stories, possibly of the battle this morning. The smell of roasted meats and ale struck my senses. The hall was indeed filled with my army sitting along the benches feasting and drinking. Hvitserk was eating with a woman sitting on his lap at the front table.

Anger ravaged inside of me seeing my brother. It was not because he was most likely drunk or for the woman, but because he was wearing King Egbert's golden crown.

By the time I was walking up the steps to the front table, Hvitserk finally noticed me. The drunken idiot was grinning at me as he stood up. His whore was firmly wrapped around his arms in a tight drunken embrace.

'Ivar, here you are, brother.'

I scrunched up my face taking in his ale stench breath, giving him a forced smile. I walked up to him. I love him, but he is an idiot at times. Reaching up, I snatched the crown from off his head and handing it back to King Egbert, who sat to the left of Hvitserk. This caused the men and women at the benches to shout in disagreement with what I just did.

'Who here thinks they can be king of Northumbria, hmm?' I said, facing the army.

A few idiots stood up, possibly earls as if to accept my challenge. Rolling my eyes, I stared at them in annoyance.

'What is it about the word king that makes even reasonable people behave like idiots, huh?'

There was a mixture of shouts at my remark. Ignoring the commotion, I positioned myself behind King Egbert, placing my hand on his shoulder while keeping my eyes on the army.

'Who wants to be king,' I said this time in the English tongue. The men who had challenged me now stared at me in confusion, not understanding what I just said. I nodded my head, satisfied with the response. Walking off the steps and to the hall's center, I changed back to the Danish tongue. 'We conquer Britain by moving south, and to do this, I need to place a puppet king on the throne in the lands we claim. They run the kingdoms the way I order them to run while we're away raiding and conquering more lands.'

I looked around at the army. They seemed to agree with what I was saying as I received no more insults or challenges.

Hvitserk, nearly missing his footing from his drunken state, walked over to me. He reached out, snatching my arm roughly. Gritting my teeth from the tight hold, the idiot probably had no idea he was about to break my wrist. He smiled drunkenly at me, yanking me over to the front table. I widened my eyes as too much weight on my left side was applied, causing me to miss my step.

Shit!

I tried catching myself from the impact by placing my hands out as I fell to the stoned floor. A hot wave of heat hit me as I struck the ground. A sharp sound of bone breaking filled the hall to silence. I was seeing black for a moment while the pain flooded over me. I accidentally released an anguished scream while I cradled my broken wrist.

I'm going to kill him. I'm going to murder him. Fuck! I inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying desperately to get a hold of my pain.

White Hair and Leif were crouching down by me, offering their assistance, ignoring the pain that ravaged my body and the embarrassment of looking so weak in front of my army. I stubbornly grabbed onto my crutch, pushing myself up. Hvitserk was looking as if he just sobered up from regret standing next to me trying to reach out to my injured arm. Stepping back in warning, I glared at him before directing my attention to the army. The hall was in dead silence, all eyes on me.

'Carry on,' I said through clenched teeth, 'don't mind me, continue and celebrate our victory of Northumbria!'

Hvitserk followed me back to my house, shouting for a slave to bring the healer to my home. Coming back into the stoned house, I sat at the table looking over at the map.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I tightly clenched my eyes shut.

'Ivar, I'm sorry.'

I waved the apology off.

'It was fated to break a bone today. Get me some ale.'

A healer walked in carrying materials to make a splint. Hvitserk handed me the ale that I scarfed down. I hate this part, the resetting my bone back in place. Why did the gods curse me like this? The healer began straightening my arm out and working. I hissed, taking another long gulp of ale. I nodded at the young woman to proceed. In hopes of taking my mind off the pain, I glanced over at Hvitserk.

'I want to invade East Anglia and recapture what was promised to us. We will need more men for this invasion. I want to attack not this spring, but the next, so over a year from now. I want to set up another invasion at the same time into Mercia as a diversion from East Anglia. I want to see what the Wessex king, King Æthelwulf, will do,' I said, looking up at Hvitserk. Grimacing from the pain, I continued. 'Brother, I need you to take a ship in the morning with a good crew and head back home to recruit. Promise them land of rich soil and easy plunder.'

'You want me to leave you here?'

'We won't be attacked anymore. That was the last rebellion. The Saxons are too weak to fight us so soon from their last defeat. One of us has the remain here and get the army ready. Look at me, do I look like someone cut out to sail to towns in our homeland recruiting Vikings? You're the best man for this job,' I said, choosing my words with flattery.

The healer finished wrapping my wrist and dismissed herself.

'Then I'll leave tomorrow and return with a new fleet of warriors and shield-maidens. But what if I run into Ubbe and Lagertha?'

'I'm sure your presence will be far more accepting over mine. Although, be smart, don't involve yourself in any wars going on between them and King Harald's forces.'

Hvitserk agreed, walking out of the house to prepare for his morning departure. Staring at my useless bandaged wrist in disgust, I walked over to my bed, stripping my legs' metal braces. I pulled myself onto the bed with my left arm.

A soft knock came, I looked over at the door in annoyance.

Yeah, I'm not getting my ass out of this bed.

Ignoring the knock, I laid my head against my pillow, shutting my eyes, trying to find a position in my wrist to ease the pain. To my surprise, the door crept open, revealing the beautiful young woman I had freed from slavery. She greeted me with a warm smile carrying a food tray and a pitcher.

Shit.

My face was burning with embarrassment. Of all to the people to see me in such a pitiful state, why did it have to be her. I pushed myself up with my left arm.

'My Lord Ivar, please forgive my presence. I was worried about you, but I see you are well. May I come in? I brought you the best slices of meat from the feast and sweet-tasting wine from the kitchens.'

I was stunned looking at the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Why was she coming to see me? No woman ever comes to see me, especially not a goddess like her. They go to see all my handsome warrior brothers. Not the crippled.

'Yes, please come in. I have servants that could've done that. You needn't trouble yourself with such duties. Tell me what your name is?'

The beautiful woman smiled at me, and I was almost positive my heart was about to beat out of my chest. This isn't happening. No one just ever comes over to see me. What does she want that I could give her?

'I'm Freydís, and it is an honor and a high privilege to serve you, Ivar,' said Freydís walking across the room setting the tray of food on the table. She poured me a cup of wine, setting it by my table. 'I'd love to serve you. In any way, you may need.'

I forgot about the pain in my arm and legs, completely entranced by her beauty. My face was warm as Freydís sat down on the bed next to me. Her warm body was touching the side of mine. She gently reached over, placing her fingers softly over my wrapped wrist.

This has to be a dream. I can't believe this is happening to me. I stared into her blue eyes. She was smiling at me.

'I've never forgotten what you had told me,' I said.

'It's true what I told you. You are a very special person Ivar.'

I chuckled softly to myself, looking at my broke bandaged wrist and useless legs.

'It's tough for me to believe that. All my life has been a struggle, a war against myself.'

'But look at what you've already accomplished. The gods have already marked you out. You are favored above all men,' said Freydís smiling at me with her perfect full lips.

'Even so, I'm in daily danger of being killed.'

'Killed, by who?'

Why do I feel like I can talk so freely to her?

'Can I speak honestly and openly to you? Somehow, I feel I can trust you, perhaps even more than anyone else here.'

'You can trust me,' said Freydís as she leaned towards me. Her warm breath struck against my ear, 'I would give my life to you if you asked me to. You know that, how can I help you, what do you want me to do?'

Freydís didn't give me a chance to respond as her hand moved to my hip, grasping onto me she planted her lips over my cheek, kissing me softly. I accidentally squirmed at the sudden contact while Freydís began a trail of light kisses down the side of my neck.

What am I supposed to do? Was this happening? Is Hvitserk playing a joke on me?

Her hand dug inside my clothing, touching my skin under my shirt. I bit my bottom lip, trying to contain the shiver that went down my spine. Her hand began roaming over my bare stomach and slowly itching downward. My breath sharpened as I leaned in towards her.

My door swung open, halted all progression snapping me out of my trance. Skul was standing at the doorway, walking in carrying a food tray. Freydís immediately got off the bed, straitening her red dress. My face heated up again, furious of Skul's disturbance, I looked over at her. She was grinning at what she just interrupted.

Skul, you damn harlot! Since when do my housecarls ever bring me food. Since when does one ever barge into my house unannounced.

'I should be going, Lord Ivar,' said Freydís.

She gave me a slight bow as she turned, facing Skul, giving her a distasteful frown before departing. Once Freydís left, I turned my gaze back to Skul, giving her a scornful look to which she burst into a fit of laughter. Annoyed at her, I reached towards the table, grabbing the tray Freydís had brought me throwing all the contents at my stupid bodyguard.

'My lord, I'm sorry, it was Leif who grew concerned when he saw her entering your house. Of course, I volunteered to make sure my lord was not in distress,' said Skul in between fits of laughter.

Throwing my hand over my forehead dragging it down over my face, I blinked a few times, still frowning at the damn harlot. She and Leif purposely ruined my time with Freydís. The only woman who's ever taken any notice in me. I'm going to murder both my bodyguards.

'But lord,' said Skul walking towards my bed, leaning over close to my ear. 'I too can also offer a service if you so wished. Though I prefer to be the one in charge, and I have a fondness for involving chains and knives in the bed.'

Frowning at whatever ridiculous vision this demented woman imagined me in. I shoved her out of my space with my good arm.

'It would seem my housecarls have too much free time. How about you remove yourself from my presence before I remove your skull and turn it into my drinking cup. Make yourself useful and load a few barrels of smoked meat and ale onto Hvitserk's ship. He'll be departing tomorrow. While you are at it, you can drag Leif's worthless humor ass with you. Now leave!'

Skul continued laughing at my threats as she walked out of my house. Grinding my teeth at my fate it would seem the gods were having a good laugh at me. That night all I could think about was Freydís. Who was she to me, and why do I feel like I can trust her with everything?

Morning came early as I stood out by the docks with White Hair standing next to me. Hvitserk was on his ship with his crew. Their sail was fully extended down, and oars pulled out. Hvitserk stood by the stern, holding onto the steering oar waving at me.

'I promise I'll bring the finest warriors and shield-maidens back by this time next year.'

Hvitserk's ship slowly pulled out into the river. The sails flapped from the light breeze. I smirked, standing at the dock gazing over at his boat.

'I'll wait for your return, brother, before conquering Mercia and East Anglia.'

That was a lie. Turning back toward the town, I nodded at White Hair. He was one of the few men I told my battle plans. Now that Hvitserk was out of the picture for a while, I could start running the army the way it needed to run.

Walking back into town, some of my warriors were outside working early. Passing by a group of men staring at me in a way that made me want to smack the stupid looks off their faces.

'How lovely we are left with the crippled in charge,' said a hushed male voice.

I stopped overhearing what was just said, gritting my teeth. I'm going to ignore that. Shaking my head, I began walking. White Hair, though, grabbed onto the hilt of his sword.

'No,' I said just above a whisper. 'Soon everyone will learn to fear the name Ivar the Boneless.'

I promised myself that day I would prove to the gods and to my army that I was the rightful leader to command this army. I was hunger with ambition and yearning to be famous. I vowed to myself this was the beginning of my saga. My story would be told hundreds of years after my death.