'Father forgive them, for they do not know your words,' said Bishop Heahmund. 'Your children have arrived at your gates. Bless their spirits into your loving hands.'

I stared down from the top of the palisades at Bishop Heahmund who gave his last sermons to the Mercian warriors who had died in battle earlier today. I had ordered my men once we captured the village of Nottingham to bury the fallen warriors and give them an honorable burial due to them fighting with courage. I moved my gaze to the woods outside of town. My men were guiding the horses towards our gates, dragging timber. I instructed the army to start strengthening our village gates when the Mercian army decides to attack us. I wasn't expecting an attack for at least another couple of weeks. It'd take time to rally up an army.

'Lord,' said White Hair from below the wall. I glanced down at my bodyguard, 'Your fleet's ships are at the docks anchored now.'

'Thank you.'

Grabbing onto my crutch and the wooden palisade, I lifted myself. I winced as I put pressure back on my wounded ankle from the Mercian who had struck me with his sword. Directly after getting the wound bandaged, I had placed my boots back on. The healers had scowled at me for refusing to stay off my feet.

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. I had planned for this invasion for about a year. I wasn't about to let a sword wound slow me down.

Leif was wounded in battle, taking a sword strike to his shoulder, but he'd make a full recovery. He had told me he was excited to show his new scar off to the women. The beast of a bear had demanded not to be left out of any upcoming battles. Egil was with him now, refusing to leave the man's side. I had my suspicions about Egil's love interest towards men, specifically Leif and myself. Often, I'd find the soft-spoken archer staring at me. At first, I thought it was admiration, but he was admiring me all right if my theory was correct. I found the idea amusing, knowing the poet would never act on his desires.

Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to climb down the ladder. As I passed by the tavern, my men were telling their battle stories.

'He threw his crutch to the ground. I was right next to him. I saw the whole thing. Lord Ivar charged from our shield wall, attacking the enemy's shield wall. He even killed their commander with his bare hands!' shouted a voice inside the tavern.

I stopped, shocked people were talking about me. The army loved to gossip about me, sure, but it was mostly nothing kind. That wasn't at all how the battle went. I never charged out of my shield wall. I had fallen out, getting my ass beat down by a Christian. It felt great standing at the front of a shield wall. It was an adrenaline high I couldn't explain, but my legs gave out too quickly. I swear that'll be the last shield wall I'd ever fight in the front rank. Shaking my head, I continued walking to the building I claimed as my house.

My new house was the ealdorman's house. When we occupied the village, most of the villagers fled, giving us free access to their possessions. The house was made from stone and had a staircase that I have no intention of ever touching. My housecarls chose the upstairs rooms where I chose a room on the bottom floor. The Christian and the dwarf also decided to stay in this building in what rooms I wasn't sure.

Lying in bed that night, I had my bloody bandaged leg propped up on a pillow. I looked over my map at Mercia's territory when I heard a woman moaning next door. Rolling my eyes, I reached for my war picks off the ground. I grunted from the stab of pain my bruised ribs emitted. Clenching my teeth, I picked my weapons up.

'Priest! I swear I'll geld you if you don't shut up!' I shouted, throwing my war picks at the wall where the noise was coming.

Silence was rewarded from my threat, causing me to smirk. Folding my map up and reaching over toward my candle extinguished the flame and letting sleep consume me.

I shot up awake, heavily breathing sweat poured down my face from the nightmare that awoke me. Wiping the sweat, I concentrated on getting my breathing back to normal. Glancing at my window, it was early in the morning, for the sun wasn't out yet.

Out of the corner of the room, movement lunged at me. A glint of steel came at me, and on reflex, I reach under my pillow, pulling my knife out and striking the attacker. A thump hit the floor as the body fell, accompanied by a screeching cry, a cry from a boy. I leaned over to see a child possibly nine years old curled up on the floor screaming, holding onto his eye. Blood was pouring down his cheek as he rocked side to side.

'Healer! Healer, get down here, help!' I shouted, dropping to the floor, pulling my shirt off, and wrapping it over the boy's wound.

White Hair and the healer rushed through my door while I placed pressure over the boy's damaged eye. The healer knelt, examining the wound.

'Lord?' said White Hair looking between the child and me.

'He tried attacking me. I want him kept alive,' I said as White Hair picked the boy up, following the healer upstairs where she could work.

I crawled towards my leg braces, putting them on over my cloth pants. As I was strapping them on, my door opened, looking over to see an older man in armor. He was one of my men I'd seen him before. This better be something essential to charge through my door at this hour unannounced. He looked surprised to see me awake.

'Yes, what is it,' I asked.

'Lo. Lord Ivar,' said the man stumbling over his words. He probably noticed the blood that stained my hands. Oh, how the rumors will start now.

'Yes, speak,' I said, grabbing my crutch wincing from the pain as I picked myself up, walking barefoot and shirtless out of my room.

'Forgive me lord, my men, uhh yes, my men have noticed something. Something strange, like movement from the woods. We think it's an army.'

While the man was still tripping over his words, I sat down on a chair, wincing from the pain in my chest. I looked upstairs where the boy's cries came from.

'Gather some scouts to make ready and take the fastest horses, keep archers on top the walls for if they are pursued. I'll be outside in a moment.'

I never got an acknowledgment. Instead, I was yanked harshly from behind my seat. A chain mail arm cuffed under my throat pulled me out of my house, throwing me down to the dirt. Enraged at the attack, I rolled over only to receive a painful blow to the side of my face from the man's fist.

'You killed my son, you murderous piece of shit! For what? For your worthless Christian church, I'll kill you Boneless!'

I screamed out, what a damn morning I'm having!

I reach for the man's leg pushing him down. I felt the impact of heavy strikes from the man's other leg kicking me in my already bruised ribs. Screaming out not really from pain, no pain I could handle at times like this, but screaming in frustration. Tons of feet started surrounding us, telling me a crowd had gathered. I reached for a rock tightening my grip over it. Glancing up, the traitor was grinning at me. He went down, gripping onto my hair as he pulled me up off the ground.

'Here he is everyone, our glorious leader, Ivar the crippled!'

The man slammed me down against dirt with such force I lost all the air out of my lungs. I pushed past the pain. Consumed with only anger, I reached up quickly, snatching onto the man's throat who was hovering over me. With the other hand, I smashed the rock against his face. The traitor fell forward, and I wasted no time crawling on top of him as I screamed in his face beating the rock repetitively against his face. His skull broke open, covering me in a shower of blood. Drenched in the man's fluid, I crawled off him, peering at the crowd breathing heavily.

'Does anyone else have an issue with me being the leader of this army?' I shouted, seething from the fight.

No one responded as the crowd looked cautiously at the corpse behind me.

'Good,' I said, wiping the blood from my eyes. 'Toss the body in the river, no Valhalla for a coward who breaks their oath and tries to kill their lord while he's asleep.'

White Hair and a man I recognized who I had stood next to in shield wall yesterday came up on either side of me. Putting my arms around their shoulders they carried me back inside my house. A few healers followed, ready to treat me.

I was lying in a warm tub of water later that morning. I had my left ankle propped out, keeping the bandages dry. I was staring up at the ceiling when Bishop Heahmund walked inside.

'You're a fool to have lowered your guard,' spat Bishop Heahmund, pacing in front of me.

'Um, I'm unclothed,' I said, but the Christian chose to ignore my statement, still ranting on as I brought my hands down into the water to cover myself.

'The more you become reputable. The more your head becomes valuable. If you die, I'm dead, and I have no interest in arriving at the gates of heaven just yet. So, whether you like it or not, it looks like we will be sharing a room once again,' said Bishop Heahmund.

I smirked at his outburst as I continued lying in the tub. The door opened again. I glanced over to see it was the boy earlier who tried to kill me in my sleep. He was carrying my clean clothes. The boy was wearing shackles and chains around his wrist and ankles. A blood-stained bandage wrapped around his left eye where I had accidentally struck him.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head up against the tub's back brace.

'What do they call you, boy?' I asked in the English tongue, opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling.

'Fletcher, lord,' said the boy in a startled voice.

'Fletcher,' I said, trying the unfamiliar word out on my tongue. 'They should call you an idiot for attempting to kill me in my sleep. Set the clothes down and get out of my sight, boy.'

Chains began rattling, telling me the boy was following my orders. I never heard the door open, so I glance briefly in the boy's direction. He was clenching his fist and staring at me with a watery eye I knew he was refusing to shed.

'You killed my father, lord. He's the one who gave you that wound,' said Fletcher pointing at my ankle.

I rolled my eyes, bringing my gaze back towards the ceiling. I didn't want to look at him for the fact I had crippled the boy by taking one of his eyes.

'Your father fought honorably, which is more than what I can say for his sad excuse of an offspring that was shit out,' I said. Reaching over to a chair, I picked up a cup and threw it in the boy's direction, 'leave, now.'

I'm sure the boy wanted to say more, but I heard him getting shoved out of the room by the bishop.

'What will you do with the boy?'

I never got a chance to respond as Egil burst inside, looking worried. He ran to my side, kneeling beside me, gripping onto my bicep.

'Lord, I'm sorry. I failed you. I should've been on watch while you slept.'

Clenching my teeth together irritated the lack of privacy I was getting. Still keeping my hands over my lower portion.

'Egil, I'm naked, Christian, I'm naked.'

They both just stared at me, not seeming to understand what I was suggesting. Feeling my face heat up, I turned to look Egil in the eyes.

'Leave me,' I shouted at him and turned my head, looking the bishop in the eyes, 'get out.'

'Ivar the Boneless, who would've thought could ever be modest,' said Bishop Heahmund chuckling at his stupid accusation walking out of the room with Egil.

I groaned, submerging my head back into the water. I don't know what I did to piss the gods off, but they were having fun with me today.

Throughout a couple of months manning this town, I began initiating a plan of attack for the soon to be approaching enemy. I had my earls lead raids in the surrounding villages on which they brought back horses and livestock. I had my men chop wood, making a secondary palisade wall a few lengths away from the original town walls. Defensive shelters were placed on top of the walls. This gave me a complete 360 view of the town. With the walls improved, I had ordered my army to start spiking the ends of timber and digging traps for when the attack was to come. I noticed no one challenged my orders anymore. When I walked around the town studying the walls, I became aware my army was staring at me with admiration. Earls were more eager to make small talk with me and offer their men any orders that may need tasking out that day.

I had sentries in place on the town's outer fields on the lookout for the inevitable army that would soon march towards our location. I also had sent out Egil and Leif to scout deeper into the woods for any sign of an army. We had been in Nottingham for a little over two months, but the army did come. Egil and Leif came riding in fast. Archers on full alert kept their arrows drawn.

I stood with the archers on top of the guarded reinforced defensive wall signaling at my housecarls as they rode through our gate.

'They'll be here in two nights, lord. It looks like Saxons and Mercians have joined together,' said Leif cheerfully as he dropped from his horse.

'How many did you count?'

'Possibly one thousand, lord,' said Egil with a shrug.

If they had brought a thousand man, I wasn't worried I had a little over a thousand. If my strategy worked correctly, I'd have their numbers diminished by a quarter, and they'd be quickly surrendering to me. I looked over at White Hair.

'Set up one last hunting party for today, bring all the sentries back behind these walls. I want a night and day rotation for every defensive shelter. I want four warriors per shelter manned at all times.'

'Yes, lord,' said White Hair climbing down the ladder.

'Fletcher!' I shouted at the boy who was at the bottom of the fortification. He was filling buckets with arrows. He looked up, startled by the sudden attention as he knocked the arrows over. He gave me a mischievous grin that I wanted to smack off his stupid one-eyed face. I glared at him as he quickly climbed up the ladder. The boy now wore a cloth material tied around his left eye. He was still my prisoner but also my servant now. The gods only know why I'm keeping him alive.

'Lord,' said Fletcher grinning like an idiot at me.

'Prepare my banners, hang them off between those four walls,' I said, pointing at each direction.

'Where are your banners, lord?'

'On my ship, the one with the red sails anchored at the front of the dock,' I said the words slowly changing to my Danish tongue. The boy looked down at his feet, repeating what I just spoke in my language. He's been slowly learning my language these past couple of months. I repeated each word in English and then repeated the words exchanging them back to Danish. The boy grinned back as he rushed off to grab my banners. He was excited to get to step foot on my ship.

Just as my housecarls had estimated, the Mercian army arrived early in the morning on the third day joined with the Wessex Saxon army. I had spent most of my time standing high at the palisades observing them. Their commanders would ride their horses near our village, keeping out of range from my archers. They were trying to find any weakness in my defense. I smirked as I watched them leave, knowing they viewed my fortress as impenetrable.

The following day the horns blasted to alert that men were approaching the gates. Standing above the entrance, I leaned on my crutch, grinning at the men. Around twenty men rode up to the gates. Two of them wore crowns while the other I knew, for he was Prince Alfred. Climbing down from the wall, I had my men open the gate as I stepped out to greet my guest.

As I walked out, accompanied by Bishop Heahmund and four of my earls. I stood in the center of the entrance between the two walls. My earls walked out of the front gate, where they picked up discarded shields that had been left outside the village. Instead of my earls standing behind me, they remained at the gate's entrance.

I stepped forward as the kings approached on horseback. They remained mounted on their horses, not choosing to cross my secondary wall. They stayed by the outside wall. King Burgred, the king of this kingdom, was an older man of graying hair and a smug face. Prince Alfred had matured nicely into a man with long dark hair and a handsome face, although he looked sickly while observing me from a distance. King Æthelred looked to be around my age, another handsome man with short brown hair, unlike his brother though he looked more like a warrior. Out of the three, the only one I was wary of was Prince Alfred, for he was clever.

'Greetings, lord kings, lord prince,' I said in the English tongue, giving them a half bow.

'What is it you want, heathen? You already have Northumbria. Leave my lands at once!' said King Burgred.

'You don't know who I am, don't you,' I said, laughing at the Mercian king. 'I'm Ivar the Boneless, and I have no interest in leaving this kingdom.'

'Insolence!' shouted King Burgred getting red in the face.

King Æthelred held up his hand, silencing Burgred. Interesting, so Wessex does hold power over Mercia. King Æthelred centered his horse in front of me, dismounting off his stallion. King Æthelred's men that had accompanied the kings to this negotiation shifted for the hilts of their weapons. King Æthelred halted, not choosing to come any closer to me remaining outside of the first palisade wall.

'You pagans have no right to these lands,' said King Æthelred. 'We've amused you by allowing you to stay in Northumbria, for the time being. Our armies far outweigh yours, surrender to us now, and I'll give you my word for a safe passage back to Northumbria.'

I smiled back at the king briefly before letting it drop and my irritation showing. Instead of responding, I looked over at Prince Alfred, giving him a slight nod before turning around and walking back toward the gates. My earls that had walked out with me were already ahead of me at the entrance waiting. King Æthelred unsheathed his sword, and I quickly brought my hand up to my war pick. Cold steel rested against the side of my neck as he now stood beside me.

I released a chuckle turning around to face the king, who held his sword firmly pressed against my throat.

'King Æthelred, please, we are speaking on peace terms if you kill him, his men will attack. Your life is not worth the death of this heathen,' said Bishop Heahmund.

'Brother, please listen to Bishop Heahmund. Now is not the place,' said Prince Alfred pleading with his brother.

I continued lightly chuckling at King Æthelred to the king's annoyance, for he leaned in breathing against my ear, still firmly holding his sword against my throat.

'Tell me crippled, what's so amusing?'

'I win,' I said for a second confusing the king as my earls pulled their shields that had a rope attached to it, hurling a spiked timber wall that hid underneath the dirt to rise. Now enclosing the secondary wall trapping the king inside the town and away from his men. I used that short moment of shock to pull out my war pick parrying King Æthelred's sword from my throat. My army began cheering as the Saxon army raced toward my palisade walls in a vain attempt to rescue their king.

'Release me, Ivar, and I give you my word no harm will come to you. I have thousands of men outside your walls. Don't think they won't charge in here and seek revenge.'

I chuckled at the idea shaking my head at the foolish Saxon king.

'King, you misunderstand me. I have no intentions of peace. This is a conquest, not a treaty. You'll sit on my side through the negotiations and remain a hostage throughout my conquest,' I said.

When I had noted that King Æthelred looked like a warrior, I should have genuinely considered that. He reacted by charging at me, sword in hand, upon telling the king his fate. I brought my war pick up parry the attack. Dropping my crutch and taking on a defensive stance as King Æthelred swung his sword at my leg. Quickly blocking the attack, I wasn't expecting how quick King Æthelred was. He shot back in a rapid motion, grazing through my chain mail striking my right shoulder. I shouted out in frustration, ignoring the pain of my sliced skin. There was an opening to the king's left side. I quickly slammed my war pick into the king's shoulder. I broke chain mail as blood sprayed through the links upon impact.

Suddenly immense pain struck me as I stared at King Æthelred in his murderous eyes. Looking down at my lower abdomen, he impaled me with his long knife. Reaching a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, confused about what happened, my blood started shooting up through my mouth.

'Don't be afraid, my son,' said Ragnar's voice faintly.

Clenching my eyes shut, I let my hand drop down to the hilt of the knife, my warm blood soak my hand as the blade remained embedded into my stomach. Grasping my hand around the knife's handle, I pulled it out, feeling pain I've never felt before. Blinded by rage and pain, I pierced the very blade that struck me into King Æthelred's chest, tearing apart chain mail and bringing us both to the ground. The king screamed as I rolled off him, wrenching the knife out of him, holding onto it.

My vision was going blurry as I looked at my earls, who were holding the ropes keeping the gate up. I signaled for them to drop the gate. I couldn't have King Æthelred die in my care. He was useless now, so I allowed his men to take him. As the wall dropped down, my army surrounded me putting their shields up through dim vision Bishop Heahmund was carrying King Æthelred to his army. The Saxons retreated to aid their fallen king quickly.

I laid on the cold dirt, clinging onto my wound. My warm blood was gushing between my fingers. I looked up at the sky when I felt hands steadily picking me up and placing me on top of shields. They lifted me as I rested on my warriors' shields, carrying me back into the village.

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!' shouted my army as they carried me. I clenched my fingers around the long knife that had wounded me, the knife that I struck its very owner. I kept fixated up at the sky in a blurred vision.

'Valhalla,' I said below a whisper as darkness took over.