Standing on the ramparts, I watched the army's younger members as they crafted their swordsmanship skills against the older members. White Hair walked through the ranks giving corrections when he spotted a flaw.

My housecarls commander was a beast of a man, and no one questioned his advice. A veteran on the battlefield, he had been a part of my father's invasion into Paris. That was where he received the scar on the left side of his face. He stormed Pairs' ramparts, climbing up the ladders to the palisades only to be struck by a sword.

Out of all the men, I trusted White Hair the most. I was surprised when he had so readily accepted my invitation to recruit him as my commander. White Hair was a Viking through and through. He craved epic battles, raiding new lands, and welcomed Valhalla on the battlefield. I had wondered why a warrior of his status was so easy to recruit. All White Hair responded with was he was fated to battle alongside Ragnar's blood, and out of all his sons, he saw glory behind my ambition.

White Hair yanked onto one of the shield-maiden's shields thrusting it up to her chest where she had mistakenly let the shield drop low. Those mistakes would be the death out in a shield wall. Up till now, all we've been doing is defending this town and relying heavily on my tactics. Now was the time to spend many hours practicing swordsmanship skills, hand on hand combat, shield wall tactics, training the horses when we got them, and ship warfare would come in the warmer seasons. Right here, all these men and women needed to be skilled in all areas because they'd be the ones I'd be commanding into battle to conquer Britain. The army had answered the call to avenge my father's death from all over Denmark. Their skills varied, so now was the time to bring everyone together by starting from basic skills and working our way up.

I stepped down off the damn stoned steps. My crutch wedged itself into a small opening of the slab.

Shit.

I yanked at my crutch to get it free, my left foot lost its traction. I slipped off the last step, losing my balance and heading into the fall when my crutch came free. Putting my weight back into the crutch and positioning it in front of me, I saved myself from the fall.

The pain was shooting up my leg from that movement, and my wrist was also throbbing. Laughter came to a short distance away. Turning toward the direction, a group of men stood out by the tavern. What pissed me off was they were staring at me. Gritting my teeth, I continued walking away.

'How is a crippled supposed to lead an army if he can't even walk,' said a man at the tavern.

Tightening my hand onto the crutch, I was about to turn around. It's not worth it. My right wrist is throbbing, and my legs are cramping. I just wanted to sit down and numb everything with a cup of ale.

'People think you are not a threat,' said Ragnar's voice distantly. 'But I know differently. Out of all of my sons, it was you I wanted to bring here. And it is you that I believe is the most important of the future of our people.'

I turned around, searching for the owner of that voice, desperately looking for my father.

He's not here, you idiot. Father is dead, feasting in Odin's Hall. I stared at the ground, ashamed while my heart ached.

'Excuse me, Lord Ivar, Lord Ivar,' said Bishop Wulfhere in his timid high pitch annoying voice.

The bishop was walking over to me, grasping onto his gold cross that hung from his plump neck. I rolled my eyes and exhaled in annoyance before turning around to view the heavy short bishop.

'Christian,' I said, smiling briefly before letting it fade, showing my peer annoyance.

'Lord Ivar, if I may have a moment of your time. I wish to voice my concerns regarding our fatherly church.'

Blinking at his remark and frowning, I quickly look in the direction of the building. The stoned church remained undamaged.

'What of it?'

'My lord, it is a desecration, and close to our Christmas where his O' Heavenly Father had been born.'

My eyes began to get heavy as the bishop kept rambling on over his Christian beliefs in his annoying high pitch voice. I'm too sober, and in much pain, to have this conversation.

'I don't care about your Christian god, do whatever you want to your church,' I said, walking away but then thinking of something, I stopped. Smirking, I unlatched my knife and held it up in the air as a warning. 'But should I not receive the tax's collected or a pathetic excuse received of grain, ale, and livestock. I'll have you hung up on your church till your rotten flesh becomes a permanent stench inside that building.'

The bishop moved his hand over his body, performing his stupid cross sign.

And I have the perfect men for this task.

Smirking, I turned, facing the men that were still standing out front of the tavern. I signaled for them to come over. They took their sweet ass time walking up to me, laughing at whatever they were saying amongst themselves. I looked at the man who had insulted me a short while ago.

'I want you to get your men and start the preparations of building our stables.'

'Why isn't that what the church is for,' said the man laughing.

'I plan on us having far too many horses to pack inside that church here soon. At least this way, it will shut the bishop up, and the labor will shut you up.'

The man stared at me, which was fine as I held my gaze challengingly. His men got quiet from the insult. He spat next to my foot, straightening his posture. I continued looking him in the eyes, not backing down.

'As the son of Ragnar Lothbrok commands,' said the man with a half-ass bow walking away.

Oh, don't worry, I'll be dealing with you later. I smirked, staring at my earl's retreating form. I need a drink and to sit down somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one could find me. And I know just the place.

'And there appeared a great wonder in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun and the moon beneath her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars,' said Bishop Heahmund, peering out the window of his cell.

Rolling my eyes at finding somewhere quiet was out of the question around the warrior Christian. He never would shut up about his god. I had been sitting on the wooden floorboards of his holding cell drinking ale and snacking on his untouched plate of smoked fish and bread. All I had asked was what their Christmas was, and here he was still going on.

'Who is the woman?' I asked.

'The virgin, Mary, mother of our God, Jesus Christ.'

What. How was that possible?

'If she were a virgin, how could she be a mother?' I asked, trying to understand his theory while taking a long drink out of the ale.

'It was a miracle.'

'I'd say so,' I said, chuckling into my cup, not believing the story.

'Are there not many miraculous things in your faith,' said Bishop Heahmund turning to face me with a challenge.

I rolled my eyes, throwing a piece of stale bread in his direction.

'So, your god has the capabilities of performing these miracles? If he wanted to, he could fix my legs?'

If this is true, I'll start praying to their nailed god today. The Christian walked away from the window kneeling in front of me.

'Yes, if the lord so chose to. But tell me, why desire being someone you were not to be. It is my understanding that our lord has a plan for everyone.'

I silently groaned at his remark. Don't talk to me about fate. Not while you're a magnificent warrior and I'm a crippled.

'Oh, really even say a heathen that doesn't believe in your god. You think he would still have a plan for me, like my gods it's called fate.'

The cell door opened as the ever-vocal Leif walked through carrying a Saxon. The man was possibly the shortest man I had ever seen, looking as if he could only make it up to my stomach in height. An older man, in his thirties, was dressed in fine robes looking like a priest. The man had short shaggy brown hair and an unkempt beard.

'This dwarf claims to have business with you, lord,' said Leif happily.

'With me?' I asked, holding back a chuckle. This was Loki's doing I just knew it. 'Release him.'

On command, Leif dropped the dwarf roughly onto the floor. I scooted my body over so I was facing him. I readjusted my legs, positioning them in front of my body.

Smirking, I met his eyes, or I would've, but the damn dwarf found my legs far too enjoyable.

'Well speak, Christian,' I said.

The short man who had been staring at my legs in what would appear to be astonishment quickly looked me in the eyes. Getting down on his knees with a smile as he spread his arms out.

'My lord, you are what they call Ivar the Boneless. I'm here to be taken under your care. I've been assigned to you as your new priest. You may call me Father Judd.'

'My what?' I asked.

Did I hear him correctly? Leif was laughing hysterically behind me. I'm glad someone was enjoying this.

'I'm your priest, and it's mostly a punishment for appointing Æthelred as King of Wessex instead of his younger brother Prince Alfred.'

Footsteps thumped against the floorboards behind me. The Christian must be interested in this news.

'What happened to King Æthelwulf?' Bishop Heahmund asked.

The dwarf looked up with a smile seeing the Christian in the room.

'You must be Bishop Heahmund. What a joy it is to see you're still alive. God be blessed. It pains me to say that the late King Æthelwulf has passed away due to illness shortly after the battle.

'So, you put the crown on the wrong man's head? I asked, somewhat finding this short man's foolishness hilarious. Yes, this was the work of the god of mischief, Loki.

'He was the oldest son of the late king and the rightful heir, but to answer your question, lord, yes and thus my punishment. I'm to be a missionary, a voice of guidance for the great Ivar the Boneless. Or so that is what the late king's wife Judith had demanded,' said Father Judd mischievously.

I blinked my eyes for a moment, trying to understand and make sense of all this that was happening. Why in the Allfather's name would the Christians send me a priest, a Christian priest, a dwarf Christian priest? This was some joke, though I'm not sure if it was from the gods or the Saxons.

'I don't need a priest. Why would I need you? The only reason the bishop is alive is that he can at least fight,' I said sternly. Leif laughed loudly at my remark.

'Oh, but my Lord Ivar, my dear pagan don't think of me like the bishop, but more as a humble servant. I must have faith for if I can convert the great Ivar the Boneless to see the light of Jesus Christ the pagan spread...'

Father Judd trailed off his speech as he watched me. I had unlatched my knife, twirling it around my fingers.

'So why have you come? To offer yourself as a sacrifice to the Allfather maybe?'

'Prince Alfred,' said Father Judd quickly. 'He said I was to be a messenger for you from our God. A blessing to you to give you the chance to receive Christ in your heart.'

'You're a fool. Do you know how many Christians I've slaughtered?'

So, this was Alfred's joke, I see. They insult me by sending this dwarf priest to me. I should cut his head off and send it back to Wessex. I also imagine that's what they expected me to do. Now they want me to play the monster because they do not like someone. Oh, let's send whoever over to Ivar so he'll kill them for us. I hate these, Christians. Although, I am somewhat intrigued to play this game with Alfred.

'Bishop Heahmund, the priest, is your responsibility. You both, from this day forward, are my guest. You may travel freely, but you are not authorized to leave the town gates.'

'If I'm not authorized to leave the town, wouldn't that be considered a prisoner,' said Bishop Heahmund.

'Whichever you want to believe,' I said with a shrug.

Grabbing my crutch, thankful the alcohol was finally kicking in, and the numbness in my pain was beginning to ease down. Bishop Heahmund walked out of his cell in silence, Leif following behind him probably to make sure he didn't try to escape or murder someone.

I positioned my crutch up, pushing myself up with my good arm, only to have the crutch slip from the ground, causing me to fall forward. I screamed out in frustration as I laid on the wooden floorboards for a moment, too angry to do anything else. Tiny feet walked into my view. Groaning to myself for forgetting the damn priest was still in the room, why was he still in the room.

'Lord Ivar, would you like a cup of ale?' asked Father Judd.

For the second time today, the dwarf had surprised me. Here I am lying on the floor, and the man just stood watching causally asking if I wanted a drink.

'A drink. Would be. Appreciated.' I said through clenched teeth.

A cup was placed on the floor next to me. Sitting up, I snatched the cup looking at the priest who was also drinking his.

'Ah, I must say you Vikings know how to brew a good tasting ale much better than our soured ones I've been drinking.' said Father Judd as he pushed a chair towards me from outside the cell.

I used the chair to push my weight up, successfully getting up this time. Father Judd was pouring himself another cup coming back into the cell.

'I will admit I was surprised to see you were a crippled. I'm a dwarf judged by everyone. I'm rather looking forward to staying here now.'

'Doesn't that go against your priest rules,' I said.

As much as I didn't want to, I was starting to like this priest.

'My dear Lord Ivar, you will come to find out I'm not by any means a mentor.'

I had dismissed myself from the priest walking to my house. My map was sprawled out over the table. The chess piece that Alfred had handed me a few years ago was placed on top of the Kingdom of Mercia. Sitting down, I was examining the map when my door opened.

Snapping my head to see who in the nine realms would come into my house unannounced. My irritation immediately faded upon seeing Freydís. She gave me one of her beautiful warm smiles.

'Lord Ivar, is it alright if I come in?'

'Please,' I said, smiling my face was warming up. 'May I ask, are you married?'

'No, ever since you freed me, I've been a free woman belonging to no man.'

Instant relief flooded through me upon hearing those words. Freydís walked behind me, wrapping her arms over my shoulders as she rested her face against mine. I'll admit this felt great, having someone holding onto you.

'It's difficult to believe I'm favored. I feel more cursed than anything,' I said.

Freydís's lips touched my cheek, bringing the hairs on my neck to stick up. She brought her hands to my scalp, running her fingers through my hair.

'It's all true your deformity shows that the gods favor you most. Your mind Ivar, to develop strategies and lead an army in such pain and ridicule, shows that you are the rightful leader Odin has handpicked. You are Ivar the Boneless, and you are exceptional. The gods have great things planned for you.'

'Can you see the future,' I asked, turning to look up at her. 'My mother possessed that gift.'

'No, but I heard many great things about the late Queen Aslaug. She was the embodiment of a powerful woman, a queen that I too hope to fill the role in.'

'I think I'm falling in love with you.'

Freydís smiled warmly at me as she leaned down, kissing me on the shoulder and slowly up my neck. This brought an uncontrolled shiver throughout my body. I shut my eyes, trying to concentrate on my breathing.

'There are men in your army that don't see you as the rightful leader. You need to silence them before they plan something.'

I groaned, rolling my eyes and leaning back against the back of my chair. I have a plan set in motion to take care of them. Why is she so concerned about what people say about me?

Freydís brought her hands down my chest, fumbling with my leather jerkin unbuckling it. My breathing sharpened, and my face went hot. She stepped in front of me, lifting her dress to her knees sitting down on my lap facing me with her warm legs between me. I started feeling a longing sensation I've never experienced before as I released another uncontrolled shiver. With a cloudy mind, I leaned into her. Freydís took my left wrist, placing my hand on her waist.

'Ivar, you can take anything you want. You should crown yourself king of Northumbria.'

What, why would I do that, that'd be stupid. I tried making sense of what she was saying, only being distracted by feeling cold hands roaming over my bare stomach. I accidentally squirmed, unable to control my body.

Freydís brought her hands down to my pants, unlacing my straps. In a sheer panic of not wanting a repeat of what had happened last time I was with a woman, I quickly pulled her hands out from under my clothing.

'I, I have to plan out these routes. I'll be directing the army through in the morning to collect the horses,' I said quickly, stumbling over my words.

Freydís smiled as she leaned over, kissing me on the cheek.

'I understand Ivar. I hope you'll join me for dinner tonight?'

I nodded my head as I watched her walk out. I exhaled the breath, slowly trying to make sense of what that sensation feeling inside my body was. I never felt something so great before.

I screamed out in aggravation. I'm such an idiot. What was I thinking? I could never please a woman. Rage was flowing through me as I glanced over at the map. Reaching for the table with my good hand, I flipped it over and leaning back in my chair, fuming.

Later that evening, I finally made my entrance into the hall, most of the army had already gathered. The front table had King Egbert seated next to Bishop Wulfhere talking amongst themselves.

What threw me off was the foolish priest Father Judd was sitting at the front table as well. He had two attractive shield-maidens seated between him, hand-feeding him food as if they were his servants. Shaking my head at the scene, chuckling to myself. I'm really starting to like this priest. At the end of the table, the last one was Bishop Heahmund, who was not paying attention to whatever conversations being discussed. No, he was instead staring murderously in my direction as if he were about to leap out and attack me. Taken back by his stare I turned around to see if it was directed at me or someone behind me. Not seeing anyone once again, I turned back at him. The damn Christian was now finding his plate more interesting.

I took my seat to the right of King Egbert. Holding up my hand to speak, the hall quiets down, going silent after a moment.

'Tomorrow morning, I will be assigning three groups that will be heading to the main villages. I've marked one to the south, one to the east, and my group will be heading to the north. We will be collecting the horses that have already been staged at these villages for our arrival. The two other groups will have Bishop Heahmund and the priest, Father Judd, with you to help translate.'

'Lord Ivar,' said Father Judd in a gasp, looking mortified. 'Tomorrow is Christmas. I must pray to our savior for the entire day.'

'You can still pray to your god, though it won't be at a church, but on a horse,' I said carelessly.

White Hair opened the doors of the hall. I nodded my head as he looked behind him and entered with my housecarls, each dragging a man in their holds as they walked up the hall to the front table. I smirked at the men my housecarls had in their grasp.

'You may recognize some of these men,' I said to the army, pointing at the detained men. 'For it is them who sees me as an unfit leader of this Great Army.'

The hall erupted into commotion as I walked down to face the men lined up being firmly held. I caught Freydís's eyes out in the crowd. She was smiling at me as if she agreed with what I was about to do.

'I'm a merciful leader, so I won't judge these men too harshly. I'm the leader of this army not because I'm the son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Not because I'm a skilled warrior, but because the position laid out there and I picked it up. Not you, not you, not you, and not you, but me. I took charge,' I shouted, pacing in front of the men pointing at each of them who had insulted me. 'I'm your leader because I was the only one who wasn't afraid to take it on. If anyone doesn't like the way I lead this army, leave. Take your ships and sail away tonight. But if you stay, I promise you the three things every Viking craves. Victorious fierce battles, reputation, and wealth.'

The hall cheered at those conditions. I looked down at the men who had belittled me.

'So, what will you choose?' I asked with a smirk.

'We will stay with you Lord Ivar,' said one of the men. The others nodded their heads in agreement.

'You won't get that chance, though,' I said.

The men looked confused, but in quick motions, blades were brought to their throats from my housecarls, slicing through flesh and being dropped to the ground, gargling and flopping around in pain and shock. Walking around the bodies smiling at the army, I held up my hand.

'Now we may feast to the new Yule!' I shouted, grinning.

The bodies were dragged out of the hall by my housecarls. The conversations slowly started back up. Freydís walked up to my table, and a servant quickly brought her a chair. As she seated herself, she leaned in towards my ear.

'The gods love you, Ivar. You are the only man they can rely on to conquer all of Britain,' said Freydís. My face began heating up again from the closeness. I was unsure what to say. Freydís placed her hand on my lap while making eye contact with me. 'You are the chosen leader Odin has picked out of all of Ragnar's sons.'

I was trying not to squirm in my chair as Freydís applied pressure on my lap, moving her hand down to my inner thigh. She began stroking my thigh back and forth.

Oh shit.

I bolted up from out of my chair, clenching my teeth painfully. I gave Freydís a forced smile. The pain was coursing through me, stabbing me in the legs for putting too much pressure on them. Looking over at Bishop Heahmund, who was staring at me probably from the scene I just made, I glanced back at Freydís.

'The Christian bishop and I have a lot of planning to do tonight, so we must excuse ourselves,' I shouted for Bishop Heahmund to hear.

To my appreciation, he stood up, walking towards me, probably hearing the urgency in my voice and possibly thankful to leave the dwarf's vicinity. Freydís smiled at my departure, although her smile never reached her eyes this time. She was disappointed with my retreat.

Leaving the hall with Bishop Heahmund, we walked in silence to my house. Arriving inside, thankful my hearth had a fire going, and the slaves cleaned up the mess I made. I pointed toward the extra bed that I had placed for my housecarls.

'You can stay here for the time being if you want,' I said, still feeling my face warm from embarrassment.

The bishop nodded his head, making his way to the bed.

'Who was she to you?'

'No one, just a woman,' I said, not wanting to say anymore. I took off my leg braces and changed into some cloth pants resting my bandaged wrist on top of a pillow and covering myself in a fur blanket.

'Hmm, who would've thought the pagan just might be a human with a soul worth saving,' said Bishop Heahmund. Not sure what he was talking about or caring, I let the darkness consume me.