Throughout the commotion of men anchoring their ships and the crowd at the docks cheering our return, I heard Freydís in the next boat telling Hvitserk how much she had missed him.

Sweet Freydís, the only woman I ever felt a connection with, had fallen for my brother, a handsome warrior. I'm such a fool to think any woman could ever love me. I'm not fated for love. The gods must be laughing at my stupid naivety.

I didn't have long to ponder Freydís's betrayal as Fletcher poked his head over the bench, grinning down at me.

'We're here, lord!'

The gods gave Hvitserk, Freydís and I received this annoying little shit. I glared up at my servant as Leif and White Hair came around me, rolling me onto their shields. I was raised up, and everything seemed to have gone silent. The crowd must've thought I was dead.

'Hail Ivar! Our true warlord who defeated King Æthelred of Wessex in a one-on-one battle! Our true leader who conquered Mercia! Part the way for Ivar the Boneless!' shouted Egil.

Egil surprised me. I would never have expected that out of my soft-spoken poet. The army at the docks had erupted in cheers confirming Egil spoke the truth.

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

The crowd who had stayed behind started joining in on the chants as I was carried into town. I held up King Æthelred's long knife, a seax in the air. The crowd's cheers magnified as they brought me into the castle.

'White Hair, my house.'

'No lord,' said White Hair, not looking back at me as he continued walking.

I rolled my eyes at being denied my demand. I did not want to be in this loud castle. I wanted to be tucked away in my small Roman house with a cup of ale to my lips.

'What happened to Lord Ivar, Egil!' said Skul in a deathly screech.

I shut my eyes feeling a headache coming on.

'Woman, ouch, get off me, he's alive he's alive.'

We entered a large room with a table with scrolls and parchment littering on top of the surface. A bed was positioned in the rear of the room next to a window. There was a hearth in the center, filling the room with heat from its flames. Slowly my housecarl lowered me to the bed and helped me get in.

I shivered as cold hands started undressing me and placing cloth pants on me. A healer came by with a tonic that was supposed to help with the pain. The medicine tasted like I was drinking dirty water. I couldn't stop shaking. I knew my room must've been hot inside, but to me, everything felt cold.

I looked at my housecarls, and I couldn't be prouder of them.

'Skul,' I said as I watched her smile as she walked to my bed. I reached up, grasping the back of her head weakly as I placed my sweaty forehead against hers. 'By the gods, I missed you.'

'Lord,' said Skul in a whimpering voice.

I released my grip and looked at my housecarls, the men and woman I could trust.

'None of you have ever failed me, and I'm grateful for your loyalty,' I said as I watched them gather around my bed. 'Your trust to follow me into battle wherever I go, I could never be so fortunate. If I should live, I know there will be a greater reason behind it. My fate will bring nothing but hardship, pain, battles, and struggles. I'll always be considered a dangerous ally or an immediate threat to my enemies. I release each of you from my service if you so choose. But if you decide to stay, I'll treat you as my equal, and I will protect each of you with my life.'

'Lord, you can't leave me,' said Fletcher, the boy, was clinging onto my blankets with a watery eye.

'I have much greater ambitions. This is not the end,' I said with a smile.

I had dismissed my housecarls away. None of them had backed out of their service. They were free to choose their path, but they decided to stay. I gave them my word that I'd protect them. Even while I lay here dying, I feel I'm destined for something greater. I clenched my eyes shut, hoping the pain would subside.

'Lord Ímar, with your permission, I'll need to redress your wound,' said a woman's voice in an unusual accent.

I turned my head, trying to see who was talking, who was Ímar? A young slave, the very same woman I had used to prepare a bath nearly a year ago, sat in front of me. Her large dark eyes were gazing at me with such curiosity, and somehow, I found it difficult to pull away from them. She was a beauty even in a peasant wool dress. Her short round face and small petite frame shone with natural beauty. She wore a dirty scarf wrapped around her dark brown hair bounded messily in a bun.

As she reached toward my bandage, I grabbed her hand, looking into her warm eyes.

'What did you call me?' I asked.

'Lord? Lord Ivar, lord.'

'Tell me, slave, what is your name?'

'Cara, lord.'

Cara, sweet Cara. How I wish I could remember her smile. The only woman I ever truly loved. Sweet, beautiful Cara…

Something felt off, I couldn't feel any pain, and for some reason, I wanted to cry and scream, laugh, and embrace this mysterious woman.

'Where are you from?' I asked though I wasn't sure why I was inquiring. It was as if someone was possessing me.

'Ireland lord, of the Uí Néill clan,' said Cara smiling at me.

Ireland, where was that? Cara reached over to my bandages, stripping them slowly from my stomach. My rot stench horridly inside the room. I heard Cara gasp as she peeled the bandage from me. I tried staying awake. For some reason, I was drawn to this mysterious woman. With Freydís, I was attracted to her kind words of empowerment. For Cara, I would have to be blind not to know our fates were connected. I knew I'd be seeing Cara the slave again. Before darkness took over, I could hear the Ancient One's laughter as if he were right next to me.

Hvitserk Ragnarsson

I walked down the castle hallway with Freydís to see my brother. I wasn't sure which room they placed him at, but it didn't take long to question it. Ivar's housecarls were standing out front of that floor's last room.

'How is he?' I asked, approaching them.

'The healer just redressed his wound and gave him a tonic for the pain. He's asleep now, lord,' said White Hair.

I nodded my head as I went to reach for the door handle. Leif blocked me by standing in front of the door with a challenging look.

'Lord Ivar is resting, and he prefers to rest in peace. Lord,' said Leif.

Oh yes, my brother's damn bodyguards. For some reason, I could feel the tension growing between us. The Dane that always seemed cheerful was staring me down.

'Lord Hvitserk is overseeing this army while Ivar is incapable of such duties, Leif,' said Freydís as she placed her hand on my arm.

'That is Lord Ivar to you, former slave,' said Skul standing next to Leif.

'Let us through,' I said, feeling anger rise at being treated like I wasn't anyone important.

White Hair nodded his head at Leif and Skul, who stepped out of my way, but I could feel Leif's eyes on me. He'd have to be dealt with, but first, I needed to see my brother.

Entering the room, I had to hold back a gag. The odor was atrocious as I hesitantly walked to the bed where Ivar laid. I was worried he was dead as he laid there, not moving. Kneeling next to him, I was reassured he was still alive by the small movements of his chest rising and lowering. I reached out, taking hold of my brother's hand.

Freydís placed her hand on my shoulder.

'Hvitserk, your brother was a fearless man. The time of Ivar the Boneless is ending, though. Now is the time for Hvitserk Ragnarsson to rise. Your crown is awaiting you. It is your fate to rule Northumbria. You'll need to take charge of this army quickly,' said Freydís.

'No,' I said, looking at my brother's sleeping form. 'Ivar is still alive.'

Freydís's arms wrapped around my shoulders as she kissed me on the back of the neck under the ear softly. This sent a shiver down my spine. Dropping my brother's hand, I saw Freydís's eyes filled with longing. Even though I was only away for a couple of weeks, I missed this woman.

She grabbed onto my jerkin in a tight grip, shoving me onto the stoned ground. I smirked under her bringing my hands up her dress, holding onto the back of her smooth thighs. I pushed her against me as I bit onto her lower lip, claiming her mouth in a rough kiss. She began moaning while pressing her body heavily onto mine. I felt her fumbling with my pants, trying to undo them.

'Wait,' I said as I stared up at the bed above us. 'Not here.'

'You are the leader of this army. You can do whatever you want,' said Freydís breathing into my ear and biting down onto my earlobe. 'Ivar is asleep. He won't know.'

My mind aroused, hazy with lust. I leaned into my desires claiming Freydís unable to resist her within that moment. I had pushed Ivar harshly over to the side of the bed, making room for Freydís, who rushed onto the bed, stripping her dress off to present me with her perfect body.

I regret the location I chose while I made love to her, on the bed beside my wounded, dying brother. The image of her naked body crying my name out as she had clenched onto Ivar's hand and the blankets was instilled forever. The three of us laid on the bed for a moment afterward. Freydís laid on top of me naked and sweaty while breathing heavily. I kissed her on the shoulder. She was stroking Ivar's hair lazily, smiling at me with tired eyes.

'I love you, Freydís, but what of Ivar? I know he likes you.'

Freydís released a giggle as she moved her hand towards my brother's cock.

'Look, there is nothing that works. I feel for Ivar. I truly do, for I will always admire him in my heart. He earns that respect. But I cannot love someone that won't open up. Hvitserk, your brother was the brains of securing this land, but now it needs a warrior king to rule it.'

So, my brother indeed was, boneless, poor Ivar. I released a laugh at where fate has brought me, slapping Freydís's bare thigh. I got up getting dressed. I looked over at my brother and immediately regretted everything. I felt a panic seeing his eyes were wide open. His eyes changed back to the deep blue color. Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the ceiling.

'Ivar,' I said, walking over to him.

He was mumbling words I barely understood speaking in the English tongue. I reached out to touch his shoulder, but he never acknowledged my touch. His skin was hot, and even though his eyes were open, he wasn't looking at anything. I waved my hand over his face, but he never stirred.

'The fever is taking over,' said Freydís softly as she attached my fur cloak around my shoulders. 'Hvitserk, you need to start preparing for a burial.'

It was heart-wrenching watching my little brother in this state. The door opened quickly, turning to see that the bishop who always was around my brother came in.

'Yes?' I said bitterly.

'My apologies Hvitserk Ragnarsson. I came to check on how your brother was doing. But it seems his condition has worsened. I'll send for the healers,' said Bishop Heahmund walking back out of the room.

'He has been poisoning Ivar's mind with Christianity,' said Freydís.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking my brother's warm hand and kissing the back of it. If I were to take over this army, I'd need to silence a few threats. The first being Ivar's housecarl, and they were loud for the entire army knew them. The army also knew the Christian Bishop Heahmund and this dwarf priest Father Judd. I couldn't understand how my brother found such people to serve him. I understood why he chose people like White Hair, Leif, and Bishop Heahmund, but why did he choose a woman like Skul, a man like Egil, or even a dwarf like Father Judd? What protection could a dwarf provide? Even his servant was a pathetic choice. Maybe the gods were ready to end Ivar's life.

This turned out not to be the case as Ivar surprised all of us, for he survived that night, making it to the following day. Unfortunately, his condition worsened now. He wouldn't wake up no matter how hard I shook him. His chest was hardly moving, and I was sure it'd stop any moment.

I had allowed the Christians at this castle to see my brother hoping maybe their Christian witchery would work. They chanted prayers and cut minor lacerations around his wound where green rot seeped out. They said it was the evil leaving his body. His sin most certainly stank, for I had to leave the room, finding it overwhelming. I brought healers from the surrounding villages as I watched them try their hand at healing Ivar. One healer got a girl of about ten who squatted over my brother, pissing down on top of his wound. I had to hold back a chuckle as I watched what was happening.

If Ivar survived, he'd murder me for this. The healer claimed virgin urine could cure the rot. An elder man had brought a raven that he killed, soaking the blood over Ivar's face and down his throat.

I stayed with Ivar most of the afternoon, knowing I didn't have long. None of these claimed healer's treatments worked. I couldn't see any movement letting me know if he was still breathing. Too scared to find out the truth, I had Freydís go over and check. I watched her place her head onto his resting chest.

The look I received from Freydís caused me to collapse on the ground as tears fell and my breathing became painful. I refused to allow anyone in the room as I laid on the stone floor staring lifelessly at my baby brother's corpse. I know my brother's housecarls wanted to say their goodbyes, but I was selfish. A coffin that resembled a ship was brought to the room where Ivar was placed into it.

'He's breathing,' I said, gasping at what I just saw.

'Hvitserk, he will be dead by tonight. You have a choice, allow your brother to suffer or give him an honorable death,' said Freydís staring at me intently.

Freydís was right, I knew it, and it was tearing me up inside watching my little brother suffer. I knew Ivar would prefer to go out this way, so I had his housecarl come in and carry his coffin to the ship. As they entered, I could tell they had all been crying red eyes and noses as they picked up their lord. Even the Saxon servant was a mess. He was still shedding tears out of his one eye walking in front of the coffin carrying Ivar's banner as they marched down the streets. The boy waved Ivar's banner left to right as they approached the docks. We had killed Ivar's horse, placing it on the ship with a chest of gold along with the best wine and flowers. His housecarls insisted that his crutch and leg braces go with him to the afterlife. The Saxon boy put the banner over the coffin as Ivar was loaded onto the ship.

The army stood banging their weapons against their shields, chanting Ivar's name as the ship was pushed out into the river.

'Egil,' I said, glancing over at the petite archer who had a flaming arrow strung. 'Now.'

The arrow left the archer's bow striking the small ship. I could see smoke telling me the shot was successful.

'Goodbye, Ivar the Boneless, I'm sorry little brother, one day we will feast together if you make it to Valhalla,' I whispered to myself, feeling the tears fall. I sat down on the wooden dock boards gazing at the river as the sun began to set.

Ivar Ragnarsson

Cold, I was so cold.

I opened my eyes only to expose the darkness. I reached out feeling wood.

Where was I?

With both hands I felt around there was wood all around me. I reached up, pushing upward on the wood to be rewarded by a glimmer of the night sky.

Where in the nine realms was I?

Shoving the remainder wood off from over me, I started putting the pieces together. I was on a funeral ship. I was apparently on my funeral ship. Holding onto my wound, I sat myself up, wincing from the pain as I looked around at my fate.

'This was Loki's doing.'

I could see they had set the ship on fire at the ashen stern. The flame must've gone out, thankfully. I was ashore, where though I had no idea grabbing the sides of my coffin, pulling myself out, and sitting over the coffin's ledge. I was heavily breathing, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. I spotted my leg braces.

Rolling my eyes, I dropped to the ship's floorboards, where I crawled painfully towards them.

Whoever announced me dead, I swear I'll burn them alive for this.

Strapping the braces on over my cloth pants, I raised myself with my crutch, gritting my teeth from how so little movement caused such pain.

They killed my horse, I see. But not my servant? Well, that's unfortunate to know the little shit is still alive. What a shitty funeral, not one slave or servant sacrificed. It seems to me like someone was in a hurry to get rid of me.

I was barefoot and only wearing cloth pants with my leg braces. I still had on my sacred arm ring and Alfred's silver cross necklace with my Thor hammer attached to it.

I needed to get off this ship and make a fire.

Looking around my surroundings. My vision was becoming blurry, and my energy was depleting rapidly. I knew I still had a fever, but why did I smell like piss?

I Groaned as I reached down to pick up King Æthelred's seax. I also picked up my banner, tearing the cloth off the post and tying it around my neck.

I'll need whatever fabric I can use for warmth.

Walking to the ledge and sitting over it, I inhaled a deep breath preparing myself for the pain this was going to cause. I ungracefully dropped myself to the ground screaming out in agony from the pain. The frigid water was striking my legs, and I just wanted to remain lying on the sand and wait for the pain to ease. I knew my survival counted on getting a fire made and out of this water, though.

Crying out, I picked myself up, placing all my strength onto my crutch. My feet were numb from the cold. I walked slowly up the shore, where I collapsed on the cold grass. I was exhausted. I couldn't control my breathing as I laid there staring at the stars. Picking up my seax, I glared at the blade that led me to this predicament. I heard branches snapping and saw movement up to my right. Looking over in that direction, I could make out a figure approaching with a torch lit.

I slammed my head into the grass out of frustration.

'Allfather, is there anything else you want to throw at me?'

Something wet licked the side of my face startling me. I turned to see a giant dog had snuck up on me.

'Bogo, what yeh find boy, Jesus Christ,' said a man in the English tongue standing over me. 'Ah, yeh still alive! Don't know how.'

I gripped onto the hilt of my seax. A scroungy man in his late forties stood over me. He was missing his front teeth and had a gut in his smelly wool clothes. Although who was I to judge anyone on their appearances at this moment. Tightening my grip onto my seax's hilt, I kept the blade pointed in his direction, ready to strike at any moment.

'Whoa, whoa, calm down. I ain't lookin' for a fight. Yes, I know yeh strong, oh yes yeh a tuff one arn't yeh. But no doubt yeh won't survive past tonight, little guy. Unless yeh allow me to help,' said the man crouching down at me. 'Bogo quit lickin em'.

By the gods who was this man talking to me like I was a wounded pup.

I was at the mercy of this man, so I remained silent. The man helped me get up where I put most of my weight on him. Thankfully, his house wasn't too far away from the shore. It was a tiny wooden house, a little filthy inside, not that I cared as I was greeted by warmth. The man walked me to a pelt of fur laid on the ground, helping me down onto it. No doubt this is where his dog slept.

'They call me Berch, yeh lucky I found yeh an not em' upriver. What yeh name hmm? That wound doesn't look good, nope I'll have to release em' evil from yeh injury.'

I just laid on the fur, finding it difficult to understand what this strange man was saying. His accent was thick, and his words were unfamiliar. I saw him pouring ale over my seax.

How did he get my seax?

He walked over to me, knife in hand, and I realized I was an idiot to trust him as he stabbed me exactly where I had been wounded.

I screamed at the piercing pain that stabbed me. I tried reaching for his leg but stopped when he pulled the knife out and walked away from me. I looked at my stomach in horror only to see green rot oozing out of my wound mixed with blood. The rot looked as if a baby was vomiting on me shortly after I lost consciousness.

'Father, wake up! Wake up!' cried a child's voice.

Who in Niflheim was that?

Opening my eyes, I could see the man who brought me to this house hovering over a pot that was mounted over a fire. The man was humming softly while stirring the contents inside. His dog sat next to him, watching hungrily.

What threw me off was a boy with long brown hair and piercing blue eyes sitting in front of me with a mischievous grin. He looked almost identical to a younger version of me.

'Father, you look like shit,' said the boy in the Danish tongue, laughing at me.

'I'm not your father,' I said weakly, only causing the child to laugh harder.

'Yeh ok over er' little one?' said the man looking at me worriedly.

'Is this your child?' I asked the man staring at the boy.

'What child? Oh, that fever still messin' with yeh eh best to lay back down.'

'You're my father. It's me, Sigtryggr, your favorite son, remember? Hurry up and come back home. We miss you. Ivarr's sick again and I don't know what to do. Hurry back father.'

The boy vanished as Berch walked through him, kneeling beside me. He unwrapped the cloth from my bloody wound. I watched him cautiously hating myself for being so helpless. I felt his rough cold hands as he began to rub clay over my injury and placing a piece of cloth on top.

'Yeh need sleep, little guy. Yeh eyes have me worried too never seen blue in the whites before. Yes, yes I know yeh strong.'

If only this strange man knew who he was talking to. Berch placed a damp cloth over my forehead, his dog curled up next to me as I took his advice and closed my eyes.

That morning, I woke up sweaty and smelling like piss, but I didn't have a fever for the first time. The pain in my abdomen didn't hurt so much. I looked down, but the clay and cloth were concealing my wound. The man's dog was sleeping curled up next to me with his head resting by my bandage.

'Ah, yeh wake little guy ere, take this bowl. It's just fish soup looks like yeh could use some weight.'

'Thank you for everything. Where am I?' I asked, looking at the older man.

'Why yeh at Elmet, no lie about that.'

I had to stop myself from reaching in my pocket to grab my map. No, the selfish usurper couldn't even have bothered with dressing me in my battle gear before sending me off.

'How long would it take to get to Eoforwic?' I asked, choosing to use the Saxon name of Yorvik.

'My with yeh boat possibly a few hours, I say. She's a beauty too. I love to own one of those.'

Only a few hours huh, I smiled at the man, knowing I could make a deal with him.

'Berch, you help me go to Eoforwic, and I'll give you that boat along with all the gold on it.'

'Oh no, no, no,' said Berch holding his hands out shaking his head. His eyes were tearing up about the offer. This man truly didn't have much.

'Yes, Berch, help me get to Eoforwic, and the boat along with everything inside is yours. You saved my life. I'm in your debt.'

The strange older man had quickly lunged at me in a tight embrace hugging me before I could even stop him. He was crying loudly into the side of my neck. His tears were on my skin, along with his mucus. I clenched my teeth tightly as I patted him halfheartedly on the arm.

I swear whoever announced me dead is getting burned alive.

I had stayed at Berch's house for about two weeks resting and recovering. I had helped him move my chest of gold into his house, where we buried it by a post beam near his wall. Berch was intelligent when it came to skilled trades and farming, but he was naive, and I could see the older man getting taken advantage of quickly. Therefore, I helped him bury his gold and told him how much he should carry to a market.

By the early morning of the fifteenth day, we set sail to Yorvik. I removed the beast off the boat's prow, not wanting Berch to put himself in any danger. He was a harmless old man but most definitely not a Viking. It was near midafternoon by the time I arrived at the docks. I was wearing Berch's cloak and a wool tunic and some wool material I wrapped over my feet. Dismounting onto the dock I waved goodbye to Berch.

I had a hood concealing my face as I walked through the town. I knew no one gave me a second glance as I was just a crippled. It was early November, and most of the army was hiding within the walls. I needed to find my housecarls and the bishop as quickly as possible. I leaned against the tavern wall waiting for the right opportunity. Soon enough, it presented itself. A drunk Dane walked out the door, and just as quickly, I snatched him by the cloak shoving him against the wall. He looked startled in his drunken state, ready to attack.

'Shut up, fool, now tell me where White Hair, Skul, Leif, or Egil are at?' I asked.

'Who are you to ask? They're where they always been, in prison. They tried to kill Lord Hvitserk Ragnarsson, or so the rumors say. I don't think so, though. I fought next to Lord White Hair, and Leif both never seemed like the traitor type,' said the man. I released him, leaning back against the tavern.

Rage began manifesting inside me, knowing the very people I trusted had been discarded so easily. Everything was making sense, and I didn't want to believe it.

Walking into the prison, I was met by three guards. I smirked at them as they tried to halt me. Reaching up, I pulled my hood off, revealing my identity. The guards gasped, retreating while reaching over their Thor hammer amulets.

'You will leave here and tell no one what you saw,' I said firmly, watching as they nodded their heads viciously.

Entering the room, I saw my bodyguards and King Egbert, Bishop Wulfhere, and Father Judd leaning against the stoned walls shackled and chained up, looking bored out of their minds.

'You lot look like shit,' I said, smiling at them.

'Lord!' screamed Egil.

'Sorry I've been away so long. I think it's time to reclaim my title as the army's warlord. I trust I still have your sworn loyalties, even from you little shit.' I said, walking down the hall and pointing lastly at the Mercian servant who was shackled next to White Hair.

Unlocking the chains to each, I unleashed the most dangerous threat in this land. My men and woman were ready for blood revenge.

'Lord Ivar!' shouted Skul, who cried, hugging me as she was released from the chains.

'Lord Ivar, I knew you weren't dead that bastard brother of yours refused us from seeing you,' said Leif.

'Oh, I can imagine,' I said dryly as I walked over, grasping onto Father Judd's hand helping him up. 'Where is Bishop Heahmund?'

'After you were announced dead,' said Father Judd making the stupid cross-motion over himself. 'Bishop Heahmund disappeared. I'd assume he left back to Wessex.'

Anger flared within me at the news of the missing Christian. I hope no harm came to him. He was a great warrior with his sword, though, so I'd feel pity for whoever tried crossing his path.

We waited till the army had gathered at the hall for the dinner feast. I waited a while before entering with my housecarls surrounding me, shields displayed. The hall went silent as they saw who was in the center walking to the front table to the apparent new king of Northumbria.

Hvitserk sat at the front table wearing King Egbert's crown beside him sat Freydís, who sat covered in gold necklaces. Both looked as if they saw a ghost as I approached their table. I held onto my stomach as I walked. My wound was still healing, and it felt like I was tearing the fresh layer of skin that had healed over. My legs were cramping, but I refused to acknowledge any pain as rage had tethered inside of me. I noticed most of my army held onto their Thor hammer amulets, not surprising as they had been deceived into thinking I was dead.

I waved for my housecarls at the front of the hall to take a seat at the benches. The army quickly made room for them while I approached the front table to greet the new king. I grunted slightly from the agony of my wound as I took a seat in my usual spot to the right of the king, ignoring my brother, who sat there gawking like an idiot. Fletcher rushed over to me, pouring me a cup of mead.

I nodded my head shoving the boy back to the benches to feast, leaning back into my chair, smirking at the scenario being played out.

'So,' I said, turning my head to look my brother in the eyes but also speaking with enough volume I knew the back of the hall could hear. 'Whose idea was it to have a funeral for a man that is still alive?'

Hvitserk kept looking at me, trying to speak but failing to find the correct words to use. Freydís stood up smiling kindly as she walked over to me, placing her hand on my shoulder, lightly massaging it.

'The gods have spoken,' said Freydís, loudly speaking to the army. 'Ivar the Boneless has come back to life. The Allfather has sent Lord Ivar back to us. What other proof do we need? We all saw him dead on the boat. We all watched as his boat lit up on fire. Look, not even a single burn mark. The gods favor Ivar Ragnarsson, a true descendant from Odin and now brought back to us as a god himself.'

I spat out the mead I was chugging after hearing the last part of her speech. I was expecting to hear something among the topics of apologies, ill mistakes, and greed to overthrow their warlord, which was everything I witnessed as I first walked into this hall.

'I always knew Ivar was special,' said Freydís as her fingernails lightly trace over the side of my neck. 'The gods favor people with deformities. Look at everything he has accomplished. Ivar has been victorious in every battle against the Christians. Don't you see this isn't a battle for territory or raiding. This is a battle between the Christian god and our gods. It is my belief after our warlord proved himself as a true leader for this army, the Allfather himself wanted to take Ivar's life only to bring him back as a god. Hail our new god Ivar.'

'Hail Ivar!' chanted the army.

'Hail Ivar!'

'Brother,' said Hvitserk, who looked like he was about to cry.

I smirked at him, snatching the crown off his head and setting it in front of me on the table. The army was still chanting my name.

'Well, what do you know? I'm a god,' I said, smirking as I drank.

I might play around with this idea. If anything, it'll place fear into my enemies. I was snapped out of my thoughts when Freydís leaned over, kissing me on the cheek. I looked at her to see she was smiling beautifully like a goddess covered in gold. I had once loved this woman, and a part of me will always love her. She betrayed me and tried to have me killed. I didn't know for a fact, but it all pointed in her direction. She probably laughed behind my back, telling Hvitserk all my secrets I ever confessed to her. And yet, I still craved for her affection. I rolled my eyes at my fate, grabbing my cup.

'I'd also like to announce that I'm carrying Ivar's divine child,' said Freydís.

For the second time, I spat out my drink, nearly choking over it. The cheers and shouts began rampaging through the hall at the news.

Sigtryggr?

I shot my head up, staring at Freydís, who was smiling so peacefully placing her hands over her stomach. I brought the cup back to my lips, drinking hard.

This was Loki's doing.