Cold hands touched my torso, and a cool rag was placed on my forehead. I tried moving my hand to knock it off, but I found my hands were restrained. Well, at least I know Skul isn't here. I tried to open my eyes, but I had too little strength to do even that.

'Will he survive?' said a voice that sounded like my brother Hvitserk.

'Only the gods will decide, lord. We've been doing everything in our power to keep him alive. He was doing great up until yesterday, then his fever came, and he hasn't awakened since. We believe the rot is settling in his wound. We even had to restrain him because he kept tearing at his bandages.'

Oh, shut up, whoever you both are, I'm not dying. I'm just tired.

'Is he waking up?' asked Hvitserk.

I want some damn peace and quiet, you idiot. I swear once I do heal up, I'm going to murder that witch they called a healer. I knew she hated me. She wrapped my wound up in moss, calling it herbs. No doubt it was poison.

'Will have to burn his rot if the fever doesn't go down, lord.'

If you come anywhere near me with a heated object, I'll shove it up your ass.

'Look, he moved,' said Hvitserk.

I was greeted by a blinding light causing me to squint back. My vision was blurry as everything was spinning. A figure was sitting next to my bed. Was that my brother Sigurd Snake in the Eye? If this was Valhalla, it stank with death, and the pain, by the gods, I didn't expect death to hurt so much. I felt a cold hand grip my hand as the figure moved closer to me.

'Brother.'

'Yeah, sorry I killed you,' I said with a raspy voice squinting my eyes to try and get a better view of my brother.

Slowly my vision started clearing up, and Sigurd had morphed into Hvitserk. I wasn't in Valhalla. I was in my room still in Mercia, thankfully. That smell of death was coming from me. Scrunching up my eyebrows closing my eyes, this was my luck to die young and in bed instead of on a battlefield.

'Brother tell me what I can do for you,' said Hvitserk.

I looked back at Hvitserk, huh, he has a mustache now.

'For starters,' I said, surprised how ragged my voice sounded. 'Unbound my wrist.'

I looked around my room, noting he was the only one in the room while he untied the ropes that were bounding me to the bed. Once the ropes were released, I brought my left hand to rest on top of my bandaged abdomen gently. Warm liquid gush at the touch of my fingers and a wretched stench struck my nostrils. I know Hvitserk smelt it as well seeing him back up in his chair, scrunching his face up.

'You selfish bastard, you were supposed to wait on my return before. We. Attacked Mercia,' said Hvitserk frowning at me. 'If it weren't for Ubbe urging me to return soon, I'd missed out on all of this.'

'Yeah, sorry,' I said casually.

I'm sure there's a place and time for these types of dreaded conversations, but I'll amuse you as I lay here dying in bed. I'm in too much pain and sober for this shit. I looked over to the table beside my bed, reaching for the cup on the table only to find water inside of it. I Dropped the cup to the floor, giving Hvitserk a forced smile.

'Fletcher!' I shouted.

I heard light thumps against the wooden floorboards as the Mercian boy rushed through the door with a stupid grin across his face. That little bastard is probably enjoying my misery.

'Ale, now,' I said in my language. The boy's eye lit up, understanding what I demanded he took off. 'You better not poison it, or I'll nail you to your worthless god's cross.'

I heard Hvitserk chuckle over the exchange with my servant. He reached over at my forehead, removing the damp rag, and placing the palm of his cold hand on my forehead. I swatted at his hand, shifting my head from his touch.

'Ivar, you make terrible patient,' said Hvitserk sitting back in his chair. 'I arrived in Northumbria shortly after you departed. I would've chased after you, but there was an uneasiness about Yorvik, so I remained. White Hair filled me in on what's going on over here.'

I released a sneeze which I immediately regretted gritting my teeth as the pain waved over my stomach. Placing my hand back on my soaked bandage, curious to see if this was blood, I looked at my hand. My palm was covered in rot, making it look like I had dipped my hand in yellow tree sap. The smell was horrid. I rolled my eyes at the fate the gods had decided to give me.

'How many men did you bring with you?' I asked, realizing my teeth were chattering.

'Just thirty, we traveled light. I wanted to keep a strong defense at Yorvik.'

I smiled at his response, nodding my head. I didn't need reinforcements consuming our limited food supply. Fletcher came back with a pot of ale and a cup. He handed me the cup as he set the pot on the table. I sat up, grunting from the pain as I took the cup with a shaky hold.

'You know I hate your very existence and your stupid one-eyed face, right,' I said in my tongue while my teeth continued to chatter.

'Yes lord,' said Fletcher in the Danish tongue, grinning happily at me. 'I'm the cow shit from beneath your boots, just like you always tell me, lord.'

'Good, now bother my housecarls for the rest of the day and stay off my ship.'

The boy grinned about being dismissed from his duties as he ran off.

'Who's the Saxon? He speaks our language pretty good?' asked Hvitserk.

'My servant, a real pain in my ass is what he is. They're besieging us, right?'

'Yes, the besieging started after you received that,' said Hvitserk pointing at my wound. 'So, two weeks now, coming from White Hair.'

I nodded my head. My useless housecarls kept me in the dark with what's going on outside these walls. I emptied my cup, trying to keep my hand steady as I set it on the table. The Saxons were predictable. I knew they were too weak-minded to try and plan an attack into my village. No, they'd try and starve us into surrender.

'Good, we have enough food to last us all winter. But for them, they'll want to head back to their houses and escape the colder months. I imagine they'll call a truce for negotiations here soon,' I said.

I heard Leif's loud, overly joyful laugh outside my window as he walked past the house. I wanted to punch him in his obnoxious face.

'Ivar, we should burn that wound before the rot becomes deadly.'

I didn't respond as my eyes were growing heavy. I just wanted to sleep.

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

I watched as my little brother fell asleep, cursing myself for not arriving here sooner. The selfish, manipulative brat could've got himself killed, and it'd be on my conscious. I already lost one brother. I didn't want to lose this one as well.

I walked over to a pot of water, soaking a rag, and wringing it damp. I stood above Ivar brushing his dark hair from his forehead as I bent over, kissing the top of his forehead. I used to look after him when he was younger, where he'd lay in bed with a broken bone. Feeling the heat on my lips deepened my fears as I lightly placed the rag down on his forehead. The smell of his rot was overwhelming inside this room. His breathing was heavy, and all I wished for was Ubbe or Björn to be here. They'd know what to do.

'Not today, Ivar, not today,' I mumbled as I stripped off my fur cloak and kicked off my boots. I carefully got into the bed with him placing my fragile brother over my chest as I held onto him in his sleep. His body was hot from fever, worrying me to no end.

'Why do I always come back to you, hmm?' I asked, smiling down at him as I brushed his hair back in gentle strokes.

'I always wondered why I chose to jump ship that day. I never understood why I chose to leave Ubbe and stay with you. No offense, baby brother, but we both know we don't have a great relationship with one another. But I guess that's your doing. You always pushed everyone away from you,' I said, bringing my cheek to rest against the top of his head.

'When I was at Kattegat, I visited the Ancient One,' I said smiling, remembering my brother's displeasure of the seer. 'I know you don't like him. The seer hinted that our fates are interwoven together. He said that you'd give me a crown and that I'd take everything from you. At first, I thought he meant I was going to rebel against you and kill you, but now I see what the prophecy meant.'

I could feel tears running down my cheek as I tightened my grip over Ivar.

'Damn fate, not today, baby brother, not today.'

I had stayed with my brother for the entire day, only relieving myself to piss or to get something to eat. I didn't want Ivar to die alone. I wanted to be there holding onto him if he should pass throughout the night. I woke up in the middle of the night to Ivar mumbling and grunting. There was a fire going in the room, keeping the room lit. I looked over at him to see he was awake. Feeling a stab in the chest as I saw the whites of his eyes had turned a deep blue.

'Father,' said Ivar in a weak voice.

I sat up, scared for my brother.

'Father! Wait, I'm coming,' shouted Ivar as he was trying to reach out to nothing.

I held Ivar down, afraid he was going to try and crawl out of bed. His body was like an inferno biting my tongue. I looked at the fire. Fuck fate, I'm not letting the gods take my little brother tonight. I carefully got out of bed. I could still hear Ivar mumbling, but nothing was making any sense. I pulled out my sword, wrapping the hilt with a cloth as I set the tip into the flames.

I walked back to my brother, tearing off his bandage where the foulest stench escaped as the dressing left his skin. A puddle of rot drenched his stomach over the wound. I took a wet cloth cleaning around his wound as softly as possible. I walked to my sword, pulling it out of the flame. The tip glowed red. Taking a deep breath in, I placed the end over his wounded skin. Ivar released the most traumatizing scream that I was sure the entire village heard him. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room.

The door swung open, and before I could react, moving the sword off Ivar, I heard a scream from a boy as I was getting struck by a small fist at the stomach.

'I'll kill you, get away from my lord!' shouted Ivar's servant.

'Wait, stop, stop I'm not hurting him,' I said, putting the sword down and grabbing the boy by the wrist. 'See, he's alive.'

I looked up only to see Ivar had passed out from the pain I was thankful for. Ivar's other housecarls and his priest came storming into the room, weapons drawn only to see what happened.

'I can't stand him like this. Our lord would want to die in battle,' said Egil as he walked towards Ivar, picking up a damp cloth and cleaning around the wound.

'Why do you men stay so loyal to my brother,' I asked.

'Because he's our lord, we believe and trust in him, so will go wherever he goes, no matter the consequences surely you'll understand that Lord Hvitserk,' said Leif.

Ivar Ragnarsson

I woke up greeted by sunlight and immense pain over my stomach. I never felt so weak before as my body was soaked from sweat. My teeth were chattering, and my body shook. Looking around, I saw Hvitserk asleep in the chair next to my bed. Had he been here all night?

'Hvitserk,' I said, throwing my empty cup at his feet.

I saw him stirring awake, and I looked down at my stomach, trying to figure where all this new pain was being brought forth. I saw a burn over my swollen red abs.

I clenched my teeth, that the damn healer went through with her threat.

'How are you feeling, brother?' asked Hvitserk, who walked over to me.

'Like I've been stabbed. And then. Burnt,' I said, receiving a guilty look from Hvitserk.

Later that day, Bishop Heahmund arrived at the gates. I guess he had been staying with Prince Alfred after the attack. I gave my men authorization to allow the Christian to enter. I was happy to see him when he walked through my door. He looked surprised to see me in my state as if I were dead. The Christian performed his stupid cross sign over his body, looking at me with his intense stare.

I'm probably going to be dead here soon, knowing my fate. I know I look pitiful in bed. I have a fever, and the rot is still seeping out of my burnt, blistered wound.

'Ah Christian, please sit,' I said weakly, finding it a challenge to keep my eyes open as a wave of drowsiness was striking me.

'Ivar son of Ragnar Lothbrok,' said Bishop Heahmund, who walked over to me placing a hand on my forehead. 'Our journey is not yet over. My agony has always been spiritual around you, my child.'

'What are you saying, Christian? Why did you choose to come back?' I asked faintly, smiling up at him.

'God has set me on this journey to walk beside you,' said Bishop Heahmund taking a seat looking at me.

'I'm happy to see you again, tell me does King Æthelred live?'

'The king was severely wounded but is recovering. He has been sent back to Wessex for care. Prince Alfred is commanding the West Saxon army now. And the prince has noticed a certain leader missing from on top of the palisades for two weeks now.'

I groaned to myself, annoyed the prince realized that. So that's why they hadn't called for a truce yet. If I die, they'll know the army is weak and would most likely want to return to Northumbria.

'I guess I'll have to start making a presence outside. Please send for Leif and Egil to my room.'

'Tell me, Ivar, where does it come from, your strength?'

'Ambition, I want to be the most famous person in the world,' I said, closing my eyes. I reached for my father's sacred arm ring. Taking it off my wrist, I held it out to the bishop. 'Please deliver this directly to Prince Alfred. Tell him this was my father's, and it is the dearest thing I have. My father gave it to me before I was pulled away from him by King Ecbert's orders.'

Bishop Heahmund nodded, taking the arm ring. I don't remember anything else of that conversation as sleep had taken over. My fever ravaged throughout my body, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I woke to see Egil and Leif kneeling beside my bed, looking worried.

'Help me get dressed in my battle gear,' I mumbled, finding it difficult to keep my eyes open.

I knew my bodyguards were against such orders, but they still did what I asked. As I sat up, my bandages around my stomach went damp. My clothes were heavy and loose on me, showing I lost weight. I hadn't been able to eat anything except soup. Egil braided my hair as Leif strapped my leg braces on.

'Lord, what are you planning?' asked Leif.

'Get me on top of the palisade of the front gate,' I said as I held my wounded stomach.

I was carried out of the house on the back of shields, White Hair, Leif, and Egil brought me to the palisade. The army grew anxious surrounding me while I was carried to the wall. They wrapped a rope around my chest under my arms, hoisting me into the air carried up to the top of the palisade gate.

Hvitserk met me up on top of the wall. Feeling his arms as they tucked under my arms, he slowly raised me. Fever weakened with my legs cramping and my stomach sending a piecing pain pulsing through every breath. I took hold of the wall leaning into it as I peered over the lands outside. It must've been noon as the sun set high in the sky. I could see off to the distance the Saxon army's campsites.

'My people!' I shouted, 'join me on these walls, let us show the Christians that we do not fear them, but that they should fear us!'

The army broke in loud cheers following my instructions. Soon, the palisade walls around my village were filled with over a thousand Vikings holding their shields.

'Altogether as one we will shout, axe time, sword time, shields are splintered,' I said to the men and women on either side of me.

While orders circled the palisade, a few Saxon scouts came riding close to our village to see what was going on. Holding onto my wound, I smirked as I saw Prince Alfred and King Burgred for I knew they saw me too.

'Axe time! Sword time! Shields are splintered!' I shouted.

'Axe time! Sword time! Shields are splintered!' The army chanted back, banging their weapons against their shields.

'Axe time! Sword time! Shields are splintered!'

The chants went on for a while as I grinned at Prince Alfred and King Burgred, giving them a mocking wave knowing I just crushed whatever Christian prayers they were saying in hopes I was dead. I yanked Fletcher by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back from the ledge of the wall. The little shit was about to fall forward from shouting my chant.

After the excitement died down, I had my men bring me back to my bed. What little movement I did had overexerted me. My breathing was heavy, and my body was freezing as I laid covered in thick fur blankets. I'd been waking on and off throughout the day to the point I lost track of time.

I woke up weak and with a fever as a hand was gently shaking me. Opening my eyes to see Bishop Heahmund was kneeling beside me. I wanted to close my eyes, but I kept them open. The bishop placed something cold around my neck.

'Prince Alfred and King Burgred have requested a truce for negotiations. Prince Alfred wanted me to bestow this cross to you. It was gifted to Prince Alfred from your father King Ragnar and that it had once belonged to his father, Athelstan.'

I reached for the cross bringing it up to my eyes to see. I remembered my father wearing this silver cross. I smiled as I wrapped my fingers over it.

'When will the negotiations happen?' I asked, closing my eyes.

'Tomorrow outside of the village between both armies.'

I waved at the bishop to come closer, finding the simplest task exhausting and draining on me. I whispered to him what I wanted. He stared at me for a second, probably ready to talk me out of it, but in the end, he agreed. Standing up, he placed a hand on my forehead, saying some prayer in another tongue I never heard before. Afterward dismissed himself from my room.

The morning of the negotiations, I had Leif and Egil get me dressed in my chain mail and leather. I know everyone was against me going to the negotiations, but if I didn't show up, Prince Alfred and King Burgred would assume I was too weak, and yesterday's stunt was a bluff. If they had that slightest doubt, the treaty wouldn't go the way I needed it. I needed to strike fear in them.

My leather jerkin showed the hole where I was stabbed in the stomach. I had King Æthelred's knife with me, for it was my battle trophy. My men had three shields interlocked as I was rolled on top and carried outside.

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

My army was chanting my name as I was carried through the town to the gates. I saw a tent was made a short distance outside of our village. A shield wall was formed up behind the tents. I could make out a few figures next to the tent I assumed was King Burgred and Prince Alfred. My army made two lines on either side facing inward to the tent. They stood proud with their shields in front of them, banging their weapons against their shields chanting my name as I was carried past them.

'Halt,' I said, seeing the tent up ahead. 'Put me down here. I'll walk the rest of the way. Fletcher my crutch.'

The chanting of my name went silent as my warriors lowered me to my feet. Hvitserk was holding me up as Fletcher gave me my crutch. I wanted to pass out right here. I still had a fever, and the pain from my stomach putting pressure on it by standing was as if I was getting stabbed again. I looked ahead of me, and I could see Prince Alfred sizing me up with his calculating gaze. King Burgred stood next to the prince and a hand full of house knights, a priest, and a woman. Breathing in, I began walking towards them.

I had to stop every few steps leaning heavily on my crutch, hoping for the pain to diminish. I was overly exhausted, feeling my wound pulsing from pain, but I kept walking. My army had all taken a knee and, in a steady rhythm, banged their weapons over their shields. Both King Burgred and Prince Alfred did their cross sign over their bodies as I approached them.

Inside the tent, there was a small table that a priest sat at with parchment. There were no seats inside this tent which told me they weren't planning on this taking long. Walking toward the priest, who shrieked back, getting up, I used that time to snatch his chair, dragging it to the far side of the tent where I leaned my body down onto the seat. Wincing as the pain waved over me, I could smell the rot from my wound consuming the odor of the tent. My jerkin was sticking to my stomach. I'm pretty positive that massive blister formed over my wound popped while I had walked over here. I placed my hand over my injury, and warm fluid soaked my palm.

Bishop Heahmund, Hvitserk, and Father Judd walked behind me, standing next to me. Prince Alfred was scowling at me, possibly for taking his priest's chair. He let it go as he walked in with King Burgred to his left and an older woman to his right. I had seen her a few times at Wessex before I'm pretty sure that was the prince's mother.

'Lord prince, lord king, my lady,' I said in the English tongue. 'This is my brother, Hvitserk Ragnarsson, and I'm sure you already know Bishop Heahmund. Oh, and the blessing you bestowed upon me the priest, Father Judd, my Christian friend.'

'It's been a while, Ivar,' said Prince Alfred cupping his hands behind his back as he stood in front of me. 'I'm happy to see you're wearing my father's cross. I hope it comforts you as it had comforted me.'

'And what of my father's sacred arm ring?' I asked.

Prince Alfred pulled the sleeve to his robe, revealing the silver arm ring around his thin wrist.

'Alfred, you gave that heathen your father's cross, the same man who murdered both your grandfathers?' said the prince's mother.

'And possibly a brother?' I said with a smirk, holding in the pain that was ravaging through me.

'The king is in good hands, Ivar, tell me what is it you want? This is no longer a motive behind revenge. You have brought terror throughout these lands,' said Prince Alfred.

I smiled. I would've chuckled, but that would've been too painful.

'You're right. My invasion isn't about revenge. I want land for my people here in Mercia. I also expect Mercia to deliver me one hundred pounds of gold, three hundred pounds of silver, two thousand cattle, and five hundred horses, yearly.' I said, smiling as I watched King Burgred's face turn red.

'Those are outrageous demands!' shouted King Burgred.

'I have no issue bringing the remainder of my army south and conquering every last footing that dare calls itself Mercia,' I said snidely.

'I will not agree to these terms, heathen!' shouted King Burgred.

'You want peace? This is me being merciful, you pathetic drop of cow shit,' I said, releasing a slight chuckle. 'Wake up, king. This isn't a let us steal land here and there to make a settlement. This is a conquest, and soon this entire land known as Britain will be known as Daneland.'

'You have no right to my lands. I'll die fighting for them before I see pagans living on them,' said King Burgred with a clenched fist.

I spat on the ground, dropping my hand from my wound, grasping my fingers around King Æthelred's long knife, pulling it out and staring at the blade. The royal guards that followed the prince inside unsheathed their swords. I ignored what was happening around me as I continued admiring the beautiful, flawless steel.

'It's hilarious such a powerful small blade should be the very thing that kills its owner. Maybe I should name it king slayer.'

'That is my brother's seax, Ivar.'

'He left it with me,' I said smiling.

I watched as Bishop Heahmund escorted Prince Alfred and his mother out of the tent, giving some annoying preach sermon of not giving into the devil. Rolling my eyes, I looked over at the king and grinned. We traded off insults and threats, but Prince Alfred finally agreed with the terms. My gold was shortened, but I could get land among the rivers, Nottingham being one of those villages to my name.

'There is one more condition you must agree with, Ivar,' said Prince Alfred.

'What, prince?'

'You must agree to celebrate Christmas with me at Wessex.'

'Sure, I'll do it the day volunteer to attend Yule at Yorvik,' I retorted.

'Wessex will not agree to this truce unless you agree for two nights to attend Christmas with me.'

I rolled my eyes, ready to agree to anything at this point, and quickly seal this truce so I could get out of this chair as I was in excruciating pain.

'Fine, I'll make my Yule sacrifices earlier this year,' I said dryly, shaking Prince Alfred's hand with my rot-soaked fingers. I watched in delight at the prince's disgusted transaction rubbing his hand against his leg.

We exchanged hostages I had demanded King Burgred's children or grandchildren, but the piece of cow shit claimed he had no legacy. In all honesty, I believe he was doing a world a favor for that. We agreed to exchange prisoners of equal value for making sure we keep our truce. I gave them two of my earls from our army, and in return, they gave me two hopeless excuses of some holy priests. I was going to laugh when Prince Alfred presented them but stopped myself as I saw he was serious. Treaties were signed, and I felt like I received the short end of that agreement, for they demanded me to attend Christmas with Prince Alfred in Wessex.

My housecarls carried me back to our village as I laid on their shields. The remainder of the day, we remained in Mercia loading our ships and preparing them to set sail in the morning. We had decided to leave two hundred men and women at Nottingham to maintain the walls.

By morning's first daylight, our fleet departed Nottingham sailing upriver to Yorvik. Hvitserk rode in the ship with the crew he arrived here with. My crew also remained the same as well with my servant. I laid down on the floorboards wrapped in a blanket on my ship as White Hair steered us upriver. Small feet kept passing by me to my annoyance, then that very same foot tripped over my leg. Wincing from the pain, it caused I glared over at the hyperactive shit.

'I'm sorry, lord,' said Fletcher red in the face as he brushed himself off.

'You little one-eyed runt make yourself useful, grab a bucket and start bailing out the water,' I said snidely.

I heard Leif's obnoxious loud laugh at my scold. Groaning, I clenched onto the blanket, trying to sweat this fever out. Bishop Heahmund prayed for the entire trip back, or at least I think he did. I kept going in and out of sleep, but I could hear his prayers each time I woke up. That damn Christian was probably quiet for the entire trip until he noticed I was awake to torture me.

Cheering informed me we arrived at Yorvik. Most likely, everyone was staged by the docks awaiting our return. My ship was the first to dock. I could see Hvitserk as his ship came up beside mine. He looked happy to be back in Yorvik, as was I. I remained lying down as my housecarls prepared their shields to carry me. I was not expecting to see Freydís getting onto Hvitserk's ship and jumping into his arms.