Soft strokes slid across Bishop Heahmund's sword as I held a wet stone in my grip. Her beauty was unlike any other blade I've wielded. There were soft nicks that had been grind out from her countless battles. The dwarves had forged her with pride because she shined even inside this hall exposed to only candlelight.

I stared down at the blade sadly. I promise I'll reunite you to your master, my dearest friend.

'That is a mighty sword, King Ivar,' said Freydís.

I rolled my eyes, slamming the rock on top of the table. Freydís flinched back in her chair, tightening her grip around her son. Twelve of my hirdmen were standing off to the side of my table. There was silence inside the hall warriors and shield-maidens kept their eyes from me, staring down at their plates.

Most likely Ubbe's men because mine were making themselves useful, preparing their weapons and armor for battle.

The hall doors burst open, I smirked at my brother's arrival.

Hvitserk looked up at me in uncertainty as he skimmed the rest of the hall, looking around at what he just walked into.

'Why do you have that crown on?' asked Hvitserk, laughing nervously.

'I had to temporarily install myself as King of Northumbria until Egbert realized what it means to lead. Well, that is if he's still alive.'

I gazed challengingly at my brother. I wanted to know who he'd side with. Freydís sat up straight next to me, smiling. That was a forced smile. She'd quickly go crying to her lover of all the horrible things I've done. It's funny because Freydís wanted me to be powerful. Now that I've embraced it, she's scared of me, scared of the power. Hvitserk took a step back, frowning.

'Where is Ubbe and King Harald?'

'King Harald has decided to leave Yorvik. I expect he'll return soon, and that's perfectly fine with me. I've already prepared for his arrival an arrival fit for a king.'

'And Ubbe?' said Hvitserk slowly.

'Why are you so worried? Our brother and sister are alive and well,' I said, smirking at him. 'So how did the scouting go?'

'I'll tell you how everything went as soon as you tell me where Ubbe is.'

I tightly scrunched my lips together, grabbing my crutch. Placing my weight on the table and crutch, I picked myself up, wincing from my right leg pain. I stood there for a moment letting the pain ease. Muffling a grunt, I stepped off the steps walking out the hall. I nodded for Hvitserk to follow.

I hated walking into the prison cells. Too many memories crept back to me from my time with Bishop Heahmund. I also didn't want to listen to Ubbe cursing me for his imprisonment. Hvitserk inhaled a sharp breath when I waved my hand towards the prison entrance.

'Ivar, why would you?'

'Ubbe didn't approve of my methods in commanding this army. He would've sent me to my death,' I said, cutting Hvitserk off. 'Hvitserk, it is time for you to make your decision. Are you going to be Ubbe's dog, or are you going to rule Northumbria, King Hvitserk?'

'What?'

I took the crown off my head, holding it out to my brother. Hvitserk stared at the crown and then back at me in uncertainty. For someone who had nearly killed me over this crown a year ago, he sure is hesitant about taking it now. Damn, maybe I misjudged my brother. Perhaps he is going to choose Ubbe.

'Take it, Hvitserk, you should be the one to rule Northumbria. I've always trusted you.'

Please pick my side.

Hvitserk reached out and took the crown from me. However, he looked upset about something. A warmth calmed my nerves, knowing my brother chose me.

'It is fate. The seer predicted this,' said Hvitserk putting the crown on his head.

I smiled, smacking Hvitserk on the shoulder. I remained outside while Hvitserk stepped inside the prison. Even though Ubbe and Torvi were my prisoners, they were well cared for.

A handful of snow struck me in the back of the head. Some of it trickled down my back falling into layers of clothing. Biting down hard, I held up my index finger, not looking back. I knew who had hit me.

I should've let the little bastard drown.

'Don't think I won't put you in a cage next to Egbert, you worthless one-eyed runt.'

My threat was rewarded with laughter. Dozens of children charged past me. One of them held my banner in their hands unraveled, and these little shits got into my paint supplies. Their faces and hands were a blur of yellow, red, and black. Fletcher himself had his hair braided back like mine and branches tied to the sides of his legs, mimicking the way I walked. He even held onto another branch as if it were a crutch.

I rolled my eyes, but my attention immediately fell to a little toddler girl wearing just pants. I snatched her by the arm as she trailed behind the older kids. Completely barefoot, she clapped her hands at me, smiling.

'The snow is cold,' she said in a high pitch voice.

'Hey, that's my shield-maiden,' said Fletcher.

'Well, your shield-maiden is poorly dressed for battle, warlord,' I said sarcastically.

I unfastened my wool cloak wrapping it around her tiny body and picking her up. How did nobody notice a half-dressed toddler? Her pants were heavily soiled as she gripped onto me, shivering. Her yellow-painted hands and feet were smearing over my cloak, jerkin, and pants. Fletcher would be cleaning my clothes for this.

'Where are your parents?' I asked softly.

She pointed up at the palisade, and my heart sunk. I had killed them yesterday.

'Guard!' I shouted at one of my housecarls. He dashed over to me. 'Take her and place her into a family.'

I am not a monster.

It didn't take me long to find my original housecarls. Leif and Gerlak's obnoxious laughs carrying from the tavern gave their location away. Leif was standing on top of a table, horn in hand.

'Keep the drinks coming for King Ivar's elite hirdmen!'

I smirked at the scene, shaking my head as I lightly struck him on the back of the leg. Leif turned and jumped off the table, holding his horn up. His smile quickly faded as he noticed a missing crown.

'I'm sorry, Leif, but my reign only lasted for a day.'

'No, no, lord, why?'

I took a seat at our table, rubbing my hands to get the warmth back to them. A servant had walked over with a bucket of water and a rag. She began rubbing the paint off my clothes. Another servant handed me a cup of ale. My housecarls, along with Gerlak, were present taking their seats at the table.

They shared what they discovered of our settlements. Everything had been burnt down and destroyed. The priests were responsible for the rebellion, and all fingers pointed in their direction. They had spread their false hope prayers to the villages that I was defeated in East Anglia. That their god was with them and other nonsense.

When the villagers and priests realized my fleet was sailing back to Yorvik undefeated, they started to panic, which they should. The villagers had met with my brother offering my scouts the best meats and wine. They pleaded for their forgiveness and swore they never participated in the rebellion. Some of the villagers and priests had fled south to escape my wrath, abandoning their homes and land.

'Lord, you have a lot of new housecarls, but I still haven't been sworn into your service,' said Gerlak.

I exhaled loudly, taking another long gulp of ale and ignoring him. Surprisingly, the servant got the paint off my jerkin and was working on my pants now.

'Gather all the earls and shipmasters to my statue,' I said.

Leif laughed, punching Gerlak in the arm.

'Lord, I saw Hilda. She said you were the best man she's ever served,' said Leif grinning like an idiot. He pointed at his brother. 'See back to what I was saying women love men with power.'

'Leif, unless there is something about to threaten me, my personal life doesn't concern you.'

'Sorry lord, you're right. But I gotta know,' said Leif grabbing Skul's hand guiding her to his lap. The harlot laughed, straddling on top of him in the chair. 'Did you wear the crown when you were making love to her?'

'Oh, King Ivar,' moaned Skul as she rocked on top of Leif.

I would've leaned into them right there if it wasn't for the servant rubbing at my pants roughly over my lower portion. I glanced over at her. She was staring me in the eyes, seductively smiling as she blindly rubbed my pants.

I grabbed her wrist, snatching the rag and flicking my other hand for her to leave. I don't need any surprise arousals when I'm trying to talk to my army. My housecarls were still engaged in their stupid imitations.

'Lord, you probably have a battle strategy for making love too. From her thighs to her wealth right,' said Leif laughing loudly.

I'm going to kill them.

My housecarls broke out in fits of laughter. I unhooked my war pick, banging it over the table and then pointing it at them.

'Get out and get my earls to my statue before I show you how loving I can be.'

They scrambled up, rushing out the door. I worked out the last paint over my pants with the rag in hand. I swear only the gods know why everyone is obsessed with my love life. Love is a joke. All they'll ever do is betray you in the end.

It didn't take long for the earls to gather out at the town center. I initially just wanted to give the information to the earls. But slowly, the entire army had taken notice and had gathered around my statute.

'Tomorrow at first daylight, we depart Yorvik to take revenge on the cowardly actions the Christians had inflicted on our people. We owe it to the gods to seek revenge, for we had suffered a terrible loss committed by the Christians. It is all because of the gods we worship and that we don't worship the Christian god. Our people were slaughtered at their settlements, halls burnt, women raped, children taken as slaves. They shame us for believing in the true and rightful gods. They demand we convert to becoming Christians. Why would we do such a thing? Their god is weak while our gods are mighty, and our gods love us.

'My people, we can't let these terrible crimes go unanswered, for the Christians will think us weak. They'll keep attacking us every time we head south. No, if we're to conquer all of Britain, we need to recognize our vulnerability first. We need to strengthen our hold here in Northumbria. We need to leave a permanent reminder of what it means to go against Danes. I will find out who has done this to our people, and I will make them suffer the most gruesome of deaths. I will engrave a message into this same kingdom, a message every Christian will mourn.

'Tomorrow, I'll be taking a thousand men with me if you want reputation and revenge ready your weapons and shields. Be outside the gates saddled by first daylight.'

Cheering and applause erupted.

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

'Hail Ivar!'

I smirked, holding my hand up in appreciation. Hvitserk and Freydís stood out by the front hall, arms folded. I rolled my eyes at their judgment. The only reason I gave Hvitserk the crown was to buy his loyalty over. Plus, I hate dealing with politics. I gave them both what they had wanted. They should've been kissing my ass in gratitude.

That evening I sat next to my hearth with Leif, Skul, Egil, Gerlak, and Fletcher. My wealth had been loaded onto my ship along with barrels of salted meat, and water. I handed them all a horn of ale.

'None of you will be riding with me in the morning,' I said, holding my hand up, halting their complaints. 'I have already had my ship prepared and a good crew of oarsmen. You will gather your belongings and leave before first sunlight.'

'Lord, no, I won't abandon you,' said Egil.

I slammed my hand down on my leg. I pulled off my sacred arm ring and handed it to Fletcher.

'Keep this safe for me,' I said as he took it with a teary eye. I glanced back at my dearest friends. 'My destiny is no longer here. I can feel it. My fate is changing directions that will lead me to new lands.'

'Then allow us to go with you, lord, I'll give up my life for you,' said Skul.

'No. We will see each other again one day it's fated,' I said, lying. I had no idea if I'd ever see any of them again, and that pained me. 'You have each protected me, and for that, I need to protect you now. The shipmaster I paid will be taking you to this Iceland. Go meet up with Floki and offer him your protection and take care of my ship.'

'Lord, a Lothbrok should never be left alone,' said Leif frowning into the flames.

'I don't want to leave you, lord. You're like a father to me,' cried Fletcher.

I smiled sadly. The boy ran into me, burying his face into my chest crying. My housecarls had spent the night in my house we had talked and shared stories of our journeys. Before the sun creeped out, I stood on the docks watching my ship depart.

I sat down on the dock boards, feeling a tightening pull on my heart as my friends left. I couldn't risk them. If I were to be betrayed, they would be in danger. I had hoped I'd see them again, unfortunately that would be the last time I saw Leif, Skul, and Fletcher. They had taken my advice and settled down in Iceland. Leif had married Skul, and they commanded the defenses in Iceland. Fletcher I was told is now a shipbuilder and occasionally, I'll come across a warship with his name engraved on it. Fletcher Ivarsson.

'I'm guiding my fate, not the gods, me,' I whispered to myself.

'Oh, poor Ivar, so lost, so confused,' said the Ancient One. He appeared sitting beside me. I could almost see through him. He was just here in my mind. 'You sound more like your father by the day. But you're going blind by the fear of losing what is fated to be lost.'

'I've never believed in you. Don't you have a million other warriors and shield-maidens that need your counsel. Surely, they'd find your presence more welcoming. Tell them your prophecies that can be interpreted in many ways.'

'I counsel the ones that need it the most, the ones that matter the most. Young Ivar, you don't have to believe me now.'

'Who says we cannot shape our fate. I'm doing it now.'

The Ancient One laughed, shaking his head.

'It's almost like I'm speaking to Ragnar Lothbrok. I admire you, Ivar the Boneless. Your fate has already been written in the runes and the stars.'

'Are you going to tell me my fate this time?'

'A darkness has settled inside of you. Your name will be as broken as your chariot. The name Ivar the Boneless has been weaved with war, death, and crowns. To be an instrument of chaos and conquest as kingdoms fall and others rise. You will meet your fate when you ally yourself with the six kingdoms and save the sixth king,' said the Ancient One, disappearing.

I growled out at his prophecy. He told me nothing except to stay away from allying myself with kings. As the sun began to shine out over my village, I guided my stallion out the gates on my chariot. Just as ordered, my army of one thousand warriors and shield-maidens were mounted outside. They carried my banners, and they had my colors freshly painted on their shields.

I nodded at my new housecarls. We departed Yorvik riding our horses hard. The trampling of hooves bringing vengeance to the villages of Northumbria. I gripped tightly onto my reins, not talking to anyone as the cold January air stung my face.

Everything I did for this army I did for its best interest. Yet I'm to be usurped and betrayed. I can't and won't accept that.

The first village we struck never had a chance escaping. My army barricaded themselves surrounding all exit paths from the town. The villagers were trapped. Their screams of terror filled the air, children were crying, and men were shouting in desperation. I stepped off my chariot as all the villagers were rounded up next to their precious church.

'Northumbrians, I rode past a burnt hall that belonged to my people. Send the ones forward who committed the act, and I give you my word no harm will befall you.'

The villagers squirmed in their tight pack. No one was volunteering themselves, and my patience was wearing. Rolling my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath and smirked at them.

'Archers!'

Screaming escalated within the pack as my men strung their arrows. Slowly four men confessed they took part in the crime. I nodded my head at my housecarls, who disarmed the men and restrained them.

'This is a fine church you have here,' I said, gazing over the wooden building. I smirked at the villagers bringing my hand over my mouth. I couldn't hold back the idea. 'Nail the rebels to their church walls and burn them alive.'

The villagers began crying, pleading for mercy, and praying to their god. The men tried to fight my housecarls in vain their screams carried throughout the village. Nails stabbed the rebel's hands against the outside walls. I walked over to them, staring them in the eyes.

'You murdered my people because they made a harvest sacrifice to Frey. Now I will make a sacrifice to my gods. Except I'm missing something,' I said, turning back around and grinning. 'Nail the priest to the church as well.'

Two older men were snatched out of the pack and brought to the church. They were crying out prayers. I held up a hand, halting my men from nailing them. I could see the hope in their eyes. I walked towards the priest, and in a quick movement, I unsheathed my seax, lunging forward ripping through the older priest's throat. Blood sprayed out, striking me in the face.

The younger one screamed and squirmed against my housecarls, thinking he was next. I wiped some of the blood away from my eyes, smirking at him. I snatched his scripture he was tightly holding in his hand, finding a blank parchment.

I smiled sinisterly at him. Dipping my fingers into the dead priest's blood, I traced my finger over the parchment, writing to a letter to Wessex. A letter addressed to King Æthelred that informed him what has happened here. That his precious church was burned to the ground, and his priests were burned alive in it. Soon the same fate awaited Wessex. Regards from Alfred's puppet pagan, Ivar the Boneless.

'You will deliver this to no one except King Æthelred and Prince Alfred.'

The priest nodded his head, accepting the parchment written in his companion's blood. I stood back as I watched the church along with the rebels burn to their deaths. We left that village in terror to repeat the attack on the next town. After hitting the fourth village, it was late in the afternoon.

'We head back to Yorvik now. I'd rather sleep in the safety of our wall over being laid out in the open for an ambush. I took no joy in murdering those people, but some actions must be done swiftly. This is a conquest, not a peacetime movement. Today we sent the message that needed to be done,' I said, looking over my army.

My men cheered as we rode back to Yorvik. Today had been a long exhausting day. I was cold, covered in blood, and hungry. I missed my original housecarls and Fletcher. We made it back to Yorvik as the sun began to set. It was strange not being surrounded by my friends.

The hall went into an unusual silence as I walked up to the front table. I ignored the stares walking slowly up the steps trying to get my frozen aching legs to work. Hvitserk and Freydís sat at the table and their wet nurse who was cradling their son. Freydís was back to being showered in gold chains around her neck. Hvitserk looked unease about my appearance.

I rolled my eyes at the distant behavior everyone was giving me. I just came here for some damn food.

Placing my hand on the table, I lowered myself into the chair next to Hvitserk, setting my legs in front of me. Freydís stood up and sat on the other side of me, telling one of the slaves to bring a pot of warm water and a cloth. A servant rushed towards me, pouring me a cup of ale. I immediately drained the drink and began tearing a rib off my platter.

'Were there any complications?' asked Hvitserk.

'Who would challenge me, hmm?'

I knew I was testing fate saying that. Freydís began wiping a warm damp cloth across my face. I ignored her as I ate.

'Ivar, what exactly did you do to the rebels? Execute them?' asked Hvitserk hesitantly.

I clenched down on my teeth, throwing my rib bone onto the plate. I grabbed my refilled cup of ale, gulping it down. Wiping my mouth, I grabbed my crutch, standing up, softening a grunt from the sharp pain. I looked over at Hvitserk for a moment with a vacant expression before walking out the hall.

'It's been a long day. I'm going to sleep.'