Father Judd walked beside me, preaching his long and boring sermons as we made our way to the shore. The army talked amongst themselves excitedly over their new chain mail and weapons from the Scots' fallen men. They bragged about their battle fighting under the command of their warlord Ivar the Boneless. I tried concealing my smile. I gave these warriors and shield-maiden's an epic battle, and they did well. I was truly proud of them.

'Your fame is growing,' said Father Judd.

I chuckled, shaking my head.

'Careful priest, it almost sounds like you're admiring a heathen.'

'What are you planning on doing now? Still planning a voyage to Ireland?'

'No, not yet at least. I need to fight Wessex to put this stupid prophecy to rest.'

Father Judd stopped. He was frowning up at me. I knew he wanted me to explain it further.

'It prophecies that I'll never get the chance to fight against Wessex. Someone is supposed to betray me, and then I'll lose everything. So, I've been challenging fate which is why I've been so ruthless trying to get Wessex to attack me.'

'My dear pagan, a man is judged on his actions. Fate has nothing to do with it.'

I rolled my eyes, groaning. He sounds exactly like Bishop Heahmund.

'I hope you're right,' I said, frowning as I remembered that raven. 'But the omen I had seen a couple of days ago hinted at me to return to Yorvik.'

My ships started coming into view. My army began cheering, knowing we'd be home in a couple of days. My scouts I had posted ahead of us came riding back. Hvitserk was with them and four of his men that were heavily cloaked.

What in Niflheim is Hvitserk doing here.

Hvitserk was waving for me to come towards him. I held my hand, halting Father Judd.

'Stay here with my men. Something isn't right.'

I followed Hvitserk as he guided me to follow him away from the army. What is going on? My brother looked like he's on a heightened alert. Something horrible must've happened. Dammit, I knew I should've never ignored that damn raven omen. Nausea struck me as I followed Hvitserk.

We stopped out of view from my army. Hvitserk looked over at me, reaching out to touch my bandage. I grimaced at the contact swatted at his hand, glaring at him. This damn idiot does this every time I injure myself.

'How did the battle go?' asked Hvitserk.

'We were victorious, of course. King Giric truly believes I'm the devil himself in mortal form,' I said. My smirk faded, getting serious. 'What happened? Why did you come out here?'

'I placed one of my men on the throne while I sailed out here with my crewmen to come to warn you with urgent news. My scouts guarding the borders have spotted a huge Saxon army marching north.'

What! I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I placed my hand on Hvitserk's shoulder, grinning. The Saxon's army had to be moving fast. I hadn't seen any evidence of a considerable army movement.

'You trust your scouts this information is accurate?'

Hvitserk nodded his head, staring at the ground for a moment then smiling at me. He seemed upset about something. He's probably still pissed at me for taking Freydís and his son.

'Those letters you sent King Æthelred had enraged him. He now believes their god is on their side, and they'll rid all of us out of Northumbria.'

I did it! I proved my prophecy was wrong. I beat fate. I couldn't control my grin as I excitedly hugged my brother.

'I changed my fate!'

'What are you talking about?' asked Hvitserk, not returning the hug. Instead, he pushed me off him.

'I had some stupid prophecy that said I'd be betrayed and lose everything, but I beat it.'

Hvitserk grimaced. Yeah, I don't blame him. I was pissed when I heard about my prophecy too.

'Brother, you really are crazy.'

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him.

'As soon as we defeat the Saxons will have conquered all of Britain south of Northumbria. The Saxons will be riding towards Yorvik with ladders because that's what I'd do. And Prince Alfred thinks exactly like me. This is going to be an exciting battle. We will need to move the army out of Yorvik. Will ambush them while their horses and warriors are tired.'

'I've already instructed our men to start smoking the meat. They're already loading them into barrels along with the ale,' said Hvitserk guiding me back towards the army.

This was such a relief. I'm so damn tired, but I know I'll be up planning our attack once I get back on my ship. As we walked back to the army, I couldn't stop grinning.

My army had circled someone as we got closer to them. I turned towards Hvitserk, frowning, but he wasn't making eye contact with me.

Something is off.

As I came near my army, they parted for us. There were three hooded men in the center. Wait, aren't those Hvitserk's scouts? Or was I just deceived? The three hooded men turned facing me, and they began pulling their hoods off as I was walking up to them. I stopped dead still. These men weren't scouts.

In the center of my army, giving me a piercing glare, was my half oldest brother Björn accompanied by my no longer imprisoned brother Ubbe and King Harald Finehair.

I smirked because of what else was there to do. I'm such a damn fool for thinking I could outrun my fate. A powerful blow struck me from the back of the head, knocking me down to the snow. I tried getting up but remained still when Hvitserk's blade was held firmly against my throat.

Of all the men to betray me, it was Hvitserk. That hurt more than the blow he just struck me with. I gave him a crown, and now he was taking everything from me.

Hvitserk roughly started stripping me of my weapons, tossing them to the ground. Bishop Heahmund's sword was tied together with the fallen Scots' sword. My seax from King Æthelred was also tossed. Two of those weapons I won fairly in a one-on-one battle. The other I made an oath to bring back to my friend's resting place.

My war picks were the next thing to go. Hvitserk roughly rolled me over onto my back as he stripped my four throwing knives. My crutch was hurled away from me, and my chain mail was stripped from me, followed by my leather jerkin, belt, and my gloves. I remained in only my cloth clothes, boots, and leg braces. I never felt so naked before in front of my army.

As Hvitserk was searching me, my warriors and shield-maidens looked uncomfortable. I guess it would be awkward to watch. I was the very man that commanded them to victory in battle, now being stripped of all my possessions.

I clenched down on my teeth. This is so humiliating.

'Where's your arm ring?' Hvitserk asked in a monotone voice.

I chuckled painfully from being manhandled after already being injured from my previous battle.

'My servant is keeping it safe.'

Hvitserk's hands roughly roamed over my body. I shivered, clenching my eyes shut, trying to control my breathing. All while not trying to squirm away from him.

Hvitserk pulled my map and chess piece I had in my pocket, throwing both to the ground. He reached for my cross and Thor's hammer amulet hanging around my neck. Maybe it was the last of my resistance finally kicking in, but I swatted his hand from them.

'Touch my necklace, and you'll be shitting your sword out!'

A fist came down hard, striking me in the left eye, bringing me to uncontrolled tears. Not from the pain but just because he nearly took my eye out of my socket.

'Leave it,' said Ubbe walking over to me crouching down above me. 'I'm sorry, brother, I don't think you're in an obligation to be demanding anything.'

I averted my eyes from him. Ubbe just used my words against me. I looked over to Father Judd, who was probably unsure what he should be doing. Ubbe stood and leaned over, picking up my chess piece from off the ground smirking at me.

'You always did love to play these types of games.'

'Please give it to the priest along with my swords and seax.'

If there was the slightest chance, I'd ever get my belongings back. The best possibility would be with the dwarf priest.

'What use does a dwarf priest have for those weapons?' said Björn.

I would roll my eyes, but both unfortunately hurt now. Instead, I settled for laughing.

'This is my only request. The least you can do is grant that to me after all the battles and victories I brought the Great Army!'

King Harald put his hand on Björn's shoulder, whispering something to him. Björn nodded his head at whatever the exchange was about.

'Of course, for Ivar Lothbrok though you might've been a tyrant, no one here can deny you are not a warrior. We will honor a warrior's last request. The weapons and game piece will go to the priest,' said King Harald loudly, so the army heard him all while smiling at me.

That damn snake is enjoying every bit of this. Now he's trying to act nobly in front of my army. One day I swear I'll kill this man. Ubbe and Hvitserk grabbed onto my upper arms, dragging me to the ships. King Harald laughed at my humiliation, and Björn acted like he was the warlord of this army now.

My warriors and shield-maidens rushed towards my remaining belongings taking what they could grab. Well, I hope they put them to good use since I'll most likely never see them again. It's odd because my knives and war picks aren't even valuable. Any blacksmith could make them.

I smiled at a realization. They didn't want my weapons and chain mail because it was valuable. They wanted it because it had belonged to me, their former warlord, Ivar the Boneless.

How ironic this entire time I had been seeking reputation to get everyone to forget I was a crippled, but I already had the reputation. The gods must be laughing at me, I tried to challenge the gods for the fate they placed on me, and I lost.

I was dragged roughly onto a ship and tied to the center mass. The women and children I had taken captive were laughing at my misfortune. My brothers stayed on the boat along with Björn and King Harald.

What were they expecting me to do? Break loose and drown in the freezing water because I can't swim.

We began sailing south for Yorvik. If there was ever a low moment in a person's life, I'm sure this was it for me. I was being humiliated in front of the warriors and shield-maidens who had served under me.

Ubbe came up, kneeling in front of me. He had a vacant expression as he stared me in the eyes. I broke the eye contact, not wanting to entertain him in this game. I found the floorboards more interesting.

'You burned my men and women alive, for what, for destroying your belongings,' said Ubbe in a low and hollow voice. 'The only reason we're not giving you the same treatment is that we don't want to upset our parents. I promise you, Ivar, you are no longer a son of Ragnar. You are no longer a Lothbrok, no longer a Ragnarsson, no longer our brother. You are no longer welcomed in this army or at Kattegat.'

'So, do I get to keep my name at least?' I said sarcastically with a smirk. That response was rewarded with Ubbe ripping the bandage from my face tearing off the scabs, and punching me across my wound.

I accidentally cried out pathetically from the painful blow. My vision blurred, and I was now seeing two Ubbe's.

Fuck my fate.

'Enough, soon he'll know the meaning of suffering,' said Björn.

Warm liquid began pouring where Ubbe just struck me. My wound must've ripped back open. My blood began to trail down my face and the side of my neck. I resisted a shiver as the cold water began soaking into my cloth clothing.

I glanced around cautiously to make sure no one else was about to get a free shot at me. Everyone seemed to be doing their own thing now. Freydís was curled up in Hvitserk's arms. Well, it is a relief to know she'll finally stop saying Baldur is my son. I never truly loved Freydís, but I had craved her words of encouragement.

Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep or the sun beating down on me or possibly the amount of blood I lost, but I had passed out. I woke up to warm liquid striking me in the face. Opening my eyes, I truly regretted it because King Harald was pissing on me. His filthy urine stung my good eye. I scrunched my face up in disgust.

There was loud cheering not too far from me. My heart dropped as if it couldn't have dropped any further. We had arrived at Yorvik, and my people, or no longer my people, were line out by the docks. They were pointing at me, cheering and laughing at the sight they saw.

I clenched my teeth tightly as I kept my gaze to the sky. I wanted to kill myself. If I had a knife, I would've. Everything I've done for these people, everything I sacrificed, the sleepless nights of stressing over defenses. Why would the gods do this to me?

I was dragged off the ship and roughly dropped on the dock boards. The army had filed on either side of the road, making a path to the town center. There stood the same steel cage I had placed King Egbert in the far distance.

Ubbe knelt next to me, pointing at the cage.

'Crawl to your cage.'

I couldn't stand without my crutch. I had no choice but to obey. I could crawl to the river and dump myself over and drown, most likely though Hvitserk would pull me out. Ubbe began walking in front of me along with Björn and King Harald. Hvitserk stayed a reasonable distance behind me, probably to make sure I didn't try and escape.

I placed my gloveless hands against the frozen snow, wincing. I tried crawling as quickly as possible to get my bare hands off this snow and end this humiliation.

'Tyrant!'

'Murder!'

I was getting pelted by rocks that struck me from the army. I ignored the names they were shouting at me, only wanting to get my hands off this damn ice. I gritted my teeth at the humiliation. I almost made it to the cage when my hands gave out.

I tried using my elbows to drag my entire body, but a kick to my side halted that. Soon I began receiving painful impacts on either side of my body as the army started kicking me. I was still getting welted by rocks as I laid there crying out. I clenched my eyes shut when the blows stopped coming along with the stones. Something grabbed the back of my shirt and began dragging me.

Opening my eyes, it was Hvitserk. He kept his focus straight ahead, not acknowledging me as he dragged me to the steel cage. I was thankful because at least it had stopped the kicking and the rocks. He shoved me forcefully into the cage as if I were a discarded item. Cheering erupted from the army, once the cage latched shut. I leaned up against the steel bars wishing someone would slit my throat.

Björn stood in front of the cage facing the crowd that gathered around to include the army I recently commanded.

'Today marks a new day for this army! We were victorious in our defenses against the Scots!'

I tuned out Björn's speech. It just sounded like he was taking the credit for everything I did. The army was soaking it all up.

Piss off Björn.

He had told my army that participated in the battle to rest and get warm that tonight they'd have a feast. He should've directed them to take their ships out of the water. It doesn't matter. It's not my concern anymore. I'll probably be going back to Kattegat to be imprisoned there.

After the crowd started returning into their warm buildings, Björn approached my cage. I'm sure I was a sight, a man with a collar inside a cage. But allow me to get out of this situation, and I'll get my revenge. Björn looked down at me as he stood next to my cage.

'Ivar, out of my entire family, you are the least one I've ever liked.'

'The feelings mutual,' I said sarcastically. Because you're the biggest idiot in the family, we have absolutely nothing in common.

'I know our father will approve of the punishment I've planned for you.'

'Oh, don't you know I'm no longer a Ragnarsson. So, Ragnar Lothbrok is no longer my father. My father is Odin,' I said, waving my hand dismissively.

Björn crouched next to me, meeting my eyes.

'Ivar, you inherited our father's mindset when it came to battle strategies. But you lacked his compassion when it came towards your enemies.'

I leaned further against the steel bars, adjusting my legs. I wrapped my arms around my chest for what little warmth I had. I shook my head at his stupid theory.

'Having compassion towards your enemies will only make you weak.'

Björn smiled sadly. I think I heard a slight chuckle from him.

'That sounds like something our father would've just told me. Maybe you did inherit more than just our father's battle strategies,' said Björn quietly. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I unconsciously stiffened from the unwanted contact. But he quickly released his hold, leaving me.

Some of the army members had brought me things throughout the day a cup of ale, a plate of ribs, and a fur blanket. This proved that the army had mixed feelings about my treatment. Possibly the warriors and shield maidens who I had led into battle were against my imprisonment.

That night while my men were feasting in the hall, Freydís walked out in a fur cloak kneeling next to my cage.

'Baldur,' I said, breaking the silence.

'He's with Hvitserk,'

'Baldur Hvitserksson.'

'Yes, I truly had wanted to learn to love you,' said Freydís.

'I know, and there is a part of me that will always love you. So, what are they planning on doing to me?'

'Hvitserk tried,' said Freydís stumbling for a moment as if trying to pick her words carefully. 'He tried requesting for you to be banished. But.'

'But they figured I'd raise an army easily and fight them for revenge,' I said, finishing what I was sure Freydís was trying to say. She nodded at my accusation. I smiled at the fact they knew me well.

'They'll be selling you to a slave trader where you'll lose all your rights,' said Freydís sadly.

I grimaced at the selected punishment. The cowards might as well kill me now what use was a crippled slave. I will never again allow myself to be used as I had been in East Anglia.

'My fate has changed anyways. I'm no longer destined to be on these lands anymore. My destiny lies beyond all of this I can feel it,' I said casually. I didn't want to voice any fears that might reach my brothers.

Freydís, to my surprise, began crying. She reached out for my hand, and I allowed her to grab onto me, stunned by her change of attitude.

'You had freed me as a slave, and I'll never forget that. I'll never forget Ivar the Boneless, who does have a heart and compassion. May the gods be with you always,' said Freydís through a broken voice as she cried. Releasing her grip, she got up and walked away.

Early into the evening, I had the displeasure of suffering King Harald's company. After he had pissed on me, I was more than ready to murder him tonight. I could no longer resist my teeth from chattering and my uncontrolled shivers.

'Ivar Lothbrok, I told you that ambition would get you killed.'

I kept my arms tightly wrapped around my body, frowning at him.

'Says the man wanting to be king of all Norway.'

King Harald laughed, crouching next to me.

'You're to be sold as a slave. I tried talking your brothers out of it. I regret killing my own brother, I know they'll regret this deeply. But Björn and Ubbe are firmed on your punishment. If you want, I can try and talk them into turning you over to me. Sure, you'll be my slave, but I promise you your future can be far worse than serving me.'

I clenched down hard, trying to pick my words carefully. Because apparently, I'm a slave now.

'I'll take my chances with the slave trader then suffer at your hands. I'd rather be burnt alive than be in your presence.'

King Harald laughed loudly, resting his hand on my shoulder. I couldn't resist the contact. He was a king, and I was a slave now. I just remained still, imagining all the ways he'll suffer one day.

'I don't want to see that fate befall on you.'

King Harald patted my shoulder and then left me. I'm stuck in a damn cage as a slave. I have no choice but to indulge in everyone's company. This is the worse form of punishment.

It was late into the evening, and the shouting of a feast inside the halls could be heard from where I was at. The crunching noise of disrupted snow alerted me I had a new guest. Rolling my eyes, I turned to see who was approaching me. Ubbe. I curled up further, only expecting him to kick snow at me possibly. Instead, I was surprised when he placed a plate of meat and a bowl of ale down inside the cage. I snapped my head back towards him.

'Tomorrow morning, you'll be sold to a slave ship.'

'Maybe I'll escape tonight, hmm,' I said with a smirk.

Ubbe smiled at my threat, crouching down to my eye level and wrapping his hand around the steel bar.

'You can try,' said Ubbe getting up and walking back to the halls.

I exhaled loudly, lying down curled up in my fur blanket for whatever warmth I could get.

The Scot prince was coming at me with his sword. I was on the ground under him. I quickly tried reaching for my war pick, but instead, my hands were tied. Just before his sword struck down at me, I shot up awake screaming. Trying to control my heavy breathing, I noticed that small feet stood next to my cage. The sunlight was starting to appear dimly. I glanced over at Father Judd, frowning.

The damn priest probably stood there as I screamed like a scared child in my sleep.

'Ivar, I have your belongings. They're safe and saddled up on my mare.'

'You're leaving?' I asked, surprised.

'I honestly only came back here because I felt a calling from my lord and savior. Now I think I know why, and I have completed that purpose.'

'Fate,' I said, groaning silently.

'Ivar, we will see one another again. I'll await that day to counsel you on Christianity further and its blessed values. It won't be hard to find you. You're too loud of a Viking, unfortunately. Until that day, I'll keep you in my prayers, for God has a plan for everyone. He places us on these trials for a purpose.'

I sat up, grabbing onto the caged bars staring intently into the priest's eyes.

'What makes you so sure your Christian god has any say in my fate.'

'Does he not exist, but only your gods do? Who's to say only the Christian God works for Christians and the old gods only work with the pagans?'

I slumped back down, nodding my head.

'No, he exists. I think I'm the last one on his list ever to help.'

The priest laughed at that confession.

'Beneath all that anger and hatred, I believe is a heart. I'm sure it's a heart that will make a difference. I've met men that now are called saints. But nothing strikes what I feel when I'm in your presence. Your gods and my God have plans for you.'

'So, I'm going to be a saint now?' I said, unable to resist a smirk.

'Good God no, but you are something significant. I welcome this path my God has placed me on with you. I pray it leads to something beautiful. My pagan friend, take care of yourself till then.'

I rested my forehead between the steel bars against the priest's head. We grasped each other's arms and said our goodbyes.

By late morning, the cage was picked up by four men walking me towards the docks. My heart began pounding heavily. The army followed, dropping what they were doing to see my shamed departure. At the docks stood my brothers and King Harald in front of a longship. The boat was filled with oarsmen and three men with whips strapped at their hips.

I took a deep breath in, letting it out evenly, trying to keep my face calm and hold onto my emotions. The cage door was unlocked, and I was pulled out like an animal for slaughter.

I'm only a possession now.

The shipmaster of the slave-trading ship walked off the dock. He was a bigger older man in his forties. He wore filthy leather and stunk of piss and ale when he approached me.

He grabbed my chin and turned my head sideways and up. His greedy calculative eyes were roaming over my body, probably trying to estimate how much I'd be worth. I tried to resist a shiver at the contact.

'It's a crippled? Too skinny as well, tch tch not much coin I'll get for this one. I see you've collared it that might be useful if it tries to escape. What's its name? What languages does it speak?'

'His name is Ímar, and he speaks the Danish, English, and Irish tongues,' said Ubbe.

I silently gasped at the knowledge my name just got stripped from me.

I would've never done this to my brothers. Wait, where is Hvitserk. The coward couldn't even come to watch me get handed over to a slave trader.

'Well, I'm sure will find work for it somewhere,' said the shipmaster shaking his head. 'Till then, it can use an oar, right? We're heading back home to Ireland for these colder months.'

I was yanked by the two other slave traders who took me from my fellow Danes' hold. They threw me down onto a rower's bench and shackled my ankles to the floorboards. An oar was pushed into my hands.

I was fuming on the inside. If I was going to say something to my traitor brothers and the army, this was my last chance. Looking at them with my traditional smirk, I did just that.

'I rejoice to know this betrayal will not go without just! The gods have already decided this army's fate,' I shouted. I bit back the pain as a whip cracked in the air, striking my back. I wasn't going to let the pain disrupt my speech. I was used to pain. 'The Great Army will never defeat Wessex without me. Without me, you will never conquer Wessex while King Æthelred and Prince Alfred live!'

Another whip had struck over my back, and the shipmaster had a rusty knife to my throat.

'Say one more word, and I'll cut that tongue out,' said the shipmaster. He looked over at my brothers in disgust. 'I get the feeling you just purposely handed me a slave that'll be a real pain in my ass. Alright, slaves, row, row! I want to be in the Uí Néill territory with a woman's legs wrapped around me as soon as possible, row!'

After all this time, it looks like I'd finally be traveling to Ireland. It was nearing the evening when we could bring the oars in and bed down. I silently grunted from the pain over my back like it was on fire from the whip cuts and the cold saltwater striking it. I followed what the other slaves were doing and dropped to the floorboards.

A huge ginger man who rowed parallel to me was swaying his head for me to lay my head inboard next to his. Slightly intrigued, I followed his silent instructions lying next to the man.

'The names Olaf, Olaf the White. I got captured by these bastards last summer. I say we Northmen should stick together, what do you say Ímar?'

'I say that sounds like a good plan,' I said, smirking at my fate.

I laid there looking up at the stars this cold night brought while we drifted along the sea. I began contemplating everything I've accomplished. Maybe I should've traveled east and taken Kattegat from Lagertha when Hvitserk suggested it those few years ago. How different would my fate have been?

I brought fear to Northumbria. I brought fear to Wessex. I had dueled with King Æthelred and fatally wounded him. I brought fear to Mercia. I had King Burgred at my mercy when I had his wife and children captive. I brought fear to East Anglia, ending King Edmund's life. I brought fear to the Scots. If anything, I'll be remembered by the Saxons as a ruthless and undefeated Warlord of the Great Army.

Sneak Peek for King of Dublin

London of 886

Hvitserk stood near the prow staring at the Roman village we were coming up on. Our ship rocked from the current, but my crew never faltered as they rowed her into port. London was constructed tactfully that I would admit. I wonder what price Alfred would sell this land for? Stoned palisade walls surrounded the port all well-guarded.

London was a sight to see but my attention had wondered to a small fisher ship hauling shackled slaves out of it.

'King Ivar, looks like they want us to dock up ahead,' said Magnus pointing in the direction where Saxon guards stood.

I couldn't take my eyes off the slaves being guided off the boat. Seventeen years ago, that was me. A slave, a possession. Seventeen years ago, I was betrayed by my brothers and sold into slavery. I lost Yorvik, my rank as warlord of the Great Army, and my rights to my own name.

I shut my eyes trying to remember my dearest friend, my adopted brother, a man I'd go to the end of this realm for, Olaf the White.

My fate had changed, and it led me to Ireland. Alongside a man who was enslaved with me. Together we became the Kings of Dublin.

Uí Néill of 869

'Row! Row you worthless slaves,' shouted the shipmaster in his thick Irish tongue.

A stalky man in his forties walked up and down the ship crouching next to the rower's benches, shouting in our faces. A mixture of ale stench breath and piss struck me when the shipmaster crouched at my bench. A whip was strapped to his belt, the very whip that had struck my back all throughout this voyage.

I was his newest slave, his newest toy. I didn't dare turn to meet his gaze, no, I kept my focus ahead as I gripped over onto my oar rowing against the current. My lips were chapped, I never been so thirsty, and my hands were burning. My palms were ripped from pulling the oar constantly and the saltwater striking my wounds weren't helping. Steel shackles bounded my ankles to the floorboard of this ship.

The shipmaster reached out snatching my chin and yanking me to face him. I immediately dropped my gaze to the floorboards. This was a game he loved to play with me. As a slave you never look a free man in the eyes.

'Oh Ímar whatever am I going to do with you? A cripple, what am I supposed to do with a cripple? Luckily, you have a pretty face, and you can speak three different languages.'

I slowly lifted my gaze staring the bastard in the eyes with as much defiance I could muster. He reached for my silver cross and Thor's hammer amulets I wore on a silver chain around my neck. Yanking harshly he nearly pulled me off the bench now bringing me in closer towards him.

'I'm going to enjoy breaking you, Ímar. I own you. Your old life is nothing but a memory, you belong to me now.'

My name is Ivar, Ivar the Boneless son of Ragnar Lothbrok.

With a sharp tug he snapped the chain from off my neck stuffing my possessions inside his pocket. I unconsciously gasped at being stripped the last thing I had left of my father's. I accidently dropped my oar nearly reaching for the shipmaster's pocket. He swatted my hand bending down and picking up the oar, he slammed the barked oar against my chest.

'Oh don't worry that pretty little face of yours. I'll be giving you back your cross and hammer. How I present it to you though, you may not find comforting. Drop my oar again and I'll throw your crippled body overboard.'

I swear I'll kill this man one day.

I seethed with anger but clenched my teeth from a painful strike to my back from a whip. I refused to cry out and give them the satisfaction. I continued rowing to this forsaken endless destination.

After a week out in sea with little to nothing to eat or drink the view of land never looked so welcoming. Rowing towards the pier I could sense the vibes of my fellow slaves' demeanor change to a caution.

My name is Ivar, please Allfather, don't let me forget who I am.