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The Last Kingdom Book - Ivar POV fanfic

Part one

In the Legends’ Footsteps

I was never really good at anything, at least not compared to my brother Ubba. My father, Ragnar Lodbrok, never seemed to mind me lacking in comparison, which could be because he was busy.

‘Ivar, time to go.’ yelled father, as he could not find me.

‘Yes father.’, I yelled back from the top of the old oak tree behind the goat stable.

In the beginning he had gotten worried when I had climbed the tree when I was only four years old. I have always been nimble and lively, so climbing was no problem. But I still remember what he said.

‘Ivar! What are you doing.’, father had said, hiding the worry in his voice.

That was the first time I really noticed how much he cared for me. I always thought I was the lesser of the two, I certainly felt like it.

It was time to go hunting with my father and Ubba, it was deer this time, and since I was so young, I used a bow and arrow, because I wasn’t allowed to be too close. But as usual, Ubba was allowed to have a spear.

We had waited for a while for the time to be right. I remember my father told us that we would have best luck at hunting deer at dusk or dawn, but dusk had already passed.

‘It’s time’, father said in a calm voice, probably so as to not scare the deer away.

We walked deep into the forest, weapons at hand and ready to be used at a moment's notice. Then father suddenly stopped, holding up one hand to signal for us to stop, then another signal for me to shoot when ready. I drew the bow, aimed, fired, and missed.

‘Shit!’, I yelled mildly, trying to keep the frustration in.

‘Quiet’, Ubba said, with smugness in his voice.

Father was running after the deer, who had been frightened by the arrow and yelling. He was no longer in sight, but he needed no help when it came to hunting. He is the 'Legendary Ragnar Lothbrok' after all.

I felt angry and frustrated with my failure, so I left Ubba and went back to the village. But before I made it back I heard some rustling behind me.

‘I want to be alone. Go help father like you always do.’, I said with resentment in my voice.

There was no reply, so I turned around, and it was not Ubba behind me. It was a boar, huge and territorial, with tusks that could tear through flesh. It charged before I had a second to think, but I was nimble and narrowly dodged the attack. I ran as fast as I could to reach a tree, but the boar was faster, a lot faster. But before it could reach me, Ubba jumped out from the bushes with his spear, and pierced the boar's stomach with all his might. Killing it instantly.

‘Well, it seems I saved the boar from getting the pleasure of knowing you, Ivar. Hahaha!’, yelled Ubba, barely getting the words out over the laughter.

‘I could’ve gotten killed! It's not funny!’, I screamed with rage in my voice while running away.

It was getting darker by the minute, so I decided to go back before the creatures of the night awoke. I was, however, stopped by three merchants who asked for directions.

‘Do you have a moment, boy? We’re wondering where the nearest village is, we’re hungry and thirsty.’, said the middle merchant with a smile reaching both ears.

‘Uh, yes. Just go over that hill over there and you will see it.’, I said, mostly confused by the strangers’ friendliness.

Then I remembered that my father had told me to always show kindness to strangers. ‘Ragnar Lodbrok, a legend, yet still humble.’, what wasn’t perfect about him?

‘If you ask for my father, and say I sent you, I am sure you will get a free meal. His name is Ragnar. He's the jarl.’, I said, thinking of fathers advice.

‘Jarl Ragnar? You mean, Jarl Ragnar Lodbrok?’, said the same merchant.

This time his wide and friendly smile was gone, no trace that it ever existed. All that was left was a blank face, and the eyes that had remained hidden behind the smile were black as Fenrir's furr.

‘Well, it would seem we found our next target.’, the merchant said, smiling once more.

Only it was a different kind of smile, almost freezing me in place. I tried to run, but I was no match for the grown men chasing me.

‘LET GO OF ME! FATHER, HEL-’, I shouted at the top of my lungs before I was cut off by the merchant’s fist hitting my face.

When I woke up my head throbbed as I overheard the men talking about how they would trade me to Ragnar for silver. I saw how they were about to look over in my direction, so I pretended to still be sleeping.

‘We have to be careful, he’s a very powerful man.’, said the merchant who had punched me to the other men.

I was chained to a pole outside of a forge. It wasn’t active, but the tools were still there. The men hadn’t bothered chaining both my hands, since I was ‘just a puny kid’ after all. When they weren’t looking I took one of the daggers and hid it behind my back, and I felt strangely confident, almost like I had awoken something inside me that was stirring my heart.

‘I’ll check on the boy, see if he’s still alive, haha!’, said one of the men as he headed my way.

‘Kid! Wake up!’, said the man.

But I didn’t respond, waiting for him to get closer. Just a little closer. When I felt his cold hands touch my face as he checked if I was alive, I opened my eyes and struck with all my might. The blade went in through his ear and out his eye, revealing the rusty but sharp tip, killing the man swiftly.

‘Look what we have here, the kid has some skills.’, said the other man as I searched the corpse for the key. ‘Looking for this?’.

The man pulled out a hatchet out of his belt. ‘I don’t think you having a few less fingers will lower the amount of silver we get’, he said with a sinister smile. But before he could, a sword sliced through his chest. ‘Father!’, I yelled, but it was not father, but Ubba, standing there. This time there was no smile on his face, there was actually worry. ‘Ubba was worried about me?’, I thought, shocked.

‘Are you okay? Did they hurt you?’, he said while composing himself.

‘No, they tried, but I killed one of them.’

Ubba took the key of the other man's corpse and unlocked the chain, but before we could run away, the middle merchant showed up, standing in our way.

‘I'm starting to think this might’ve been a bad idea.’.

‘Yea it was a bad idea! You better run before we kill you too.'

‘Haha! No, no. I meant, I could’ve done this alone, without those idiots.’

Ubba readied himself, but was caught off guard when I said, ‘You should run away, he wants me. This isn’t some boar.’.

‘I'm not going anywhere, you’re my brother.’, he replied with determination in his voice.

The battle must have not lasted more than a minute, but it felt like a whole week had gone by. Slashing, dodging, running, and fighting like two with the mind of one. I slashed at his knees and legs while nimbly evading his attacks, weakening him enough for Ubba and I to stab him in the chest from each direction. The fight was over. Lives lost, but titles won. That day was the day I earned the name, 'Ivar the Boneless'.

Part 2

Hometravel of the Wayward

As I rode my trusted horse on my way back to the designated encampment with the wind stroking my face and the rain pelting me at the same time, having followed through with the mission bestowed upon me per Ubba’s request. I first grunt and mumble to myself on why I as the older brother had the misfortune to carry out this task, and not my younger brother. Someone with his brash demeanor and reputation in combat should serve well enough to carry the purpose of an emissary but he insisted it should be me to ride out, believing in his words that; “My sharp mind to be better put to use in this”. Thinking back that might have been a way for the bastard to play on my vanity to combat my eagerness to ride out into combat against the people of Northumbria and the army they amassed, and now it has been weeks since the battle, leaving me with only trees to fell to grant me ember and warmth in the midnight cold. The thoughts of bonfire did little to distract me from the whipping rain and the chill that it brings as it did the opposite and made me long for the very footstep i will make when i enter the great hall with its welcoming warmth and the embrace from my brethren, having spent this long with only a horse by my side who makes poor conversations. Although what I long for most of all is to feast on some warm cooking to warm my belly and a big cold ale to quench my thirst.

As I tried to shut out any thoughts about this god-forsaken weather, I recalled the dream I had the other night of my childhood. About the day I faced the giant boar, and how I was saved by Ubba, about how I was captured by some ‘merchants’ over some ill will they had against my father, to how I was saved again by Ubba after I rendered one of my captors useless. I remember how one of the captors praised me for my cunning and skill with a dagger even if it had a mocking tone. This mockery was soon silenced forever as me and my brother joined together to slay him where he stood and grant me the name ‘Ivar the Boneless’. It was through this the bond we had between us as brothers was strengthened forever even if his irritably smug face and recent zealous devotion still grace me to this day.

But why has this memory been stuck in my skull to keep stalking me in my dreams I wonder?

Then I remember Ravn’s letter that he sent me close to a fortnight ago. Apparently after the battle with Northumbria they had taken some of the prisoners and kept them as slaves, two of them were claimed by Ragnar to aid his wife in her chores around the household.

From what has been told to me by Ubba, one of the kids is an ealdorman of Bebbanburg which at first granted me joy since ealdorman often means a plentiful bounty is given for their trade. Bringing back the boy to his kin for coin was originally the plan, but those plans were changed because Earl Ragnar has seemingly become fond of the boy and decided to strike a deal with my brother. Now Ubba adores coins and the riches that come with it, so I imagine that Earl Ragnar must have whispered some very promising compromise to have him change his mind from giving in to the tempting allure. Something about the boy must be special to have granted him the favor of Earl Ragnar to the degree of adopting him as his own son, which is no easy feat given his reputation and title as ‘The Fearless’. According to Ubba the young lad had swung his sword against the brute with the purpose of killing him, and seeing his fighting spirit even against a bigger foe had impressed him to lengths so he rewarded him by keeping him alive. “Can you imagine this tiny pup being the one to slay him? I don’t know whether the great almighty Thor would laugh or cry at the mere suggestion” my brother tells me in his message. He also says he does not know what to make of the boy, if he is an ally or if he is just biding his time before reclaiming his freedom, as he has not gotten to talk to him man to man, maybe he is keeping his distance? He does not fully trust him but leaves it to Earl Ragnar's judgment. “Come and see him for yourself, maybe your sharp brain can recognize something I cannot” -Ubba.

Ignoring his clear attempt at mockery , I came to realize why I had been having my dreams as often as I did. Hearing about the young boy's deeds must have made me think back to my own youth, about a young boy who did not relent in the face of danger even when the odds were against him. I decided now that I am within a day’s travel from my destination, that I would see him for myself and come to my own conclusion if the words about him are true and if he truly deserves Earl Ragnar The Fearless’ favor, but most of all, mine.

Part three

Cowardly Gods and Kings

It was the longest time I’d spent apart from my brother in many winters. We had made plans together to split our army in two, Ubba would be taking our ships along the eastern shoreline of Mercia, and thereby draw the bulk of King Edmunds forces towards the coast. Meanwhile, I was to take our army inland and cut the East-Anglian troops off from the rear. It was a good plan I thought, and for once Storri had headed my council without confiding in his trinkets. The East-Anglians needed to be slaughtered to show the king of Wessex, and England's last kingdom, that resistance was futile.

We had been marching for about a week when our scouts returned with reports of a large score of armed men sporting banners with a cross, who had been seen about a day’s ride from here. They were apparently heading straight for us, which I thought was strange. Had they already dealt with my brother? Was he slain by some farmer with a pitchfork? Don't be a fool, I told myself. Ubba was a much more formidable warrior to have been bested by some English king backed by some malnourished god. But alas the scouts told us that the oncoming army seemed to have fought a battle and did not seem like they were the ones that lost. Maybe the christian god had finally decided to give his followers some aid in battle? Perhaps he had given them fiendish boons such as the ability to cheat death, like he claimed to have mastered while he was among us mortals. I did not know alot about the christian god, the few priests we had captured alive had all been sacrificed by Ubba, for he saw them as cheaters and schemers like followers of our trickster god Loki. I told my men to make camp and to prepare for the battle that was fated to take place at sunup. King Edmund had chosen to meet his end tomorrow, and they were all fools, I thought, for it was known, to face a Dane on an open battlefield, was an invitation of Death.

They arrived in the early morning sporting their blunt swords and weak shields. ´SHIELD WALL!´ I screamed at the top of my lungs and readied my body for Valhalla. The number of soldiers lined up on the sunswept horizon did honestly make me wish that I had Ubbe here beside me. Not because I missed him necessarily, but maybe because he was much bigger than me and would therefore draw the enemy’s attention to himself. I was used to fighting this way, it was always much easier to cut down the enemy when they were not focused on killing the feared viking leader, Ivar the Boneless. I was not a coward, I thought, it was merely a calculated move to surround myself with the largest and tallest viking warriors, for the spear is always sharpest at the tip. And at this very second I did not mind that both friends and enemies called me ´Boneless´.

Both armies advanced on eachother, axes and swords drawn and shields raised. My men were singing for if it was to be our last day in Midgard, it would be a glorious such. The enemy was not singing, in fact they were barely even speaking. ´Look!´ shouted Björn, one of the large vikings on my left.

´What?!´ I screamed back.

´One of them priests is crying!´ Björn cried out. And indeed, about five meters in front of us stood a tall, bald man sporting a crown. ´That must be the great king Edmund!´ I laughed and punched Björn on the shoulder. ´It is him we must kill first!´.

I broke formation and stormed the East-Anglians head on together with Björn and some other warriors from the front of our line. It was a planned maneuver that my father was rather fond of in his younger years. Instead of waiting for the enemy and allowing them to muster the courage to attack, we would strike first while they were slowly inching towards us and thus be able to break their line. This day the maneuver worked perfectly, for as soon as we broke ranks, an opening appeared in the East-Anglian line and we smashed through it. It was as though Thor himself had granted me his strength, for I must have cut down at least ten men before I reached the back of the enemy's thin line of defense. I came out of my battlefury for about a second to see the great King Edmund mounting a horse and fleeing, like the great coward he was. My men and I had successfully cut the East-Anglians formation in two, and from here we laid waste to the enemy from the rear. It became a slaughter, the East-Anglians started running for their lives as we cut them to pieces, and it was only when we stopped hearing their cries we lowered our axes and realized we had left no one alive to be taken prisoner. As the sun rose to its highest peak we showed the East-Anglians what fear does to an army.

It was the day after when my army finally caught up with Ubba’s forces, who had managed to capture some of the men from yesterday's battle. We learned from the prisoners that King Edmund had retreated to a small monastery in a place called Dic. Naturally I still wanted the coward king dead, but my halfbrother Halfdan had just arrived with some grave news. Apparently there had been some sort of uprising in Northumbria and some of our people had been killed there. East Anglia had barely been captured so we could not turn around and leave right away. ´We must come to some kind of agreement with King Edmund´ said Ubba with Storri tugging at his coat.

´We could make him an offer similar to the one we made with King Burghred´.

´Leave him as king of these lands but under our thumb.´ I suggested.

Storri looked around for his fishbones and sticks but before he could do anything Ubba spoke. ´We’ll make the offer in person then?´ he nodded towards me. It was rather odd that he did not choose to wait for Storri’s advice like he usually did, maybe Ubba had missed me during our time apart. ´We’ll ride for this monastery and talk to this King Edmund together then?´ he repeated.

'Yes, I would also like to see what kind of person this King Edmund is like!´ I answered.

For you should not make offers to people whose souls you haven't seen.

We took some men and rode to Dic. With us came Halfdan and Ragnar along with his English pup Uhtred. We were met by no guards for this was a small church in the middle of nowhere, and why King Edmund had taken refuge here I could not tell. On the walls of the church hung large leather panels that depicted different scenes from the christian faith. None of them seemed that interesting until we found our way towards the church altar. There on a side panel I glimpsed the image of an almost naked man riddled with arrows. The man was smiling and seemed to almost welcome the arrows being buried in his flesh. ´Who is that? I demanded to know.

´The blessed Saint Sebastian´ answered a pale man who I took to be Edmunds interpreter. I asked the interpreter why the man was smiling like that, and he started telling me and all the other Danes in the church the story of the Roman soldier Saint Sebastian. He had refused to renounce his faith and so the emperor had him executed by a volley of arrows. ´Yet he lived!´ bellowed King Edmund with glee. ´He lived?´ I asked the interpreter with what must have been a confused look. ´So the emperor had him clubbed to death instead,´ the interpreter finished.

´So he didn’t live?´

´He went to heaven´ King Edmund said, ´so he lived.´ Ubba intervened and went on to ask a multitude of questions regarding heaven. To be honest it sounded horrible and Ubba must have thought so too, because he did not look amused when Edmund said that he was looking forward to entering the christian heaven. I went on and laid down our demands for Edmund to remain king and his face became as gloomy as a sky without stars.

´And if I say no?´

`Then we take the land anyway´ I answered back with a dry smile. It must have seemed like an easy choice to make, for the priest surrounding Edmund did not take long to come up with an answer. ´What of god's church?´ spurted Edmund, I could now see that he was furious, or as furious as a christian could be. ´What of it?´ I asked back, although I did not care for what answer the priest and king would give. After telling my brothers that we tend to steal their gold one of them finally blurted out ´Jeremiah foretold this!´

´Jeremiah´ I asked, for I must have lost track of where the negotiations were going. The king then proceeded to read spells towards me from some christian book and then just stood there glaring at me. His translator must have gathered that I did not understand any of it and hastily translated. ´For I will bring evil from the north, and great destruction!´. The words, although oddly fitting, must have been a christian retelling of our own fated destruction at the hands of Ragnarok at the end of time. `It is in the book!´ Edmund yelled at me. ´You can keep your church´ I answered back, hoping to end his ravings. Edmund looked us all up and down then gave us what I hoped was his last demand. I did not know what words he spoke, and neither did any of the interpreters, so Ubba turned to Ragnar’s pup Uhtred who was born to this land. ´You have to stand in a barrel of water, and they pour more water over you´ he explained. They wanted to wash us? Why? In their current situation the poor christians had strange priorities. Uhtred then went on to tell me that this was some sort of pledge to the christian God. ´I can go on worshiping Odin once I'm washed?´ I asked.

´Of course not!´ Edmund answered angrily. ´There is only one God!´

´There are many gods,´ It was I who sounded angry now, ´and our gods are beating your one God.´

´Our God is great, he is all powerful, he is magnificent!´ Edmund retorted. My patience was wearing thin for this little debate of ours so I simply told him ´show me,´ and everyone in the room fell silent. ´You have claimed your God is all powerful, that he is the only God, so I want it proved. We shall shoot arrows at you, and if you survive then we’ll all be washed.´ The great King Edmund tried to back his way of this demonstration just as he had backed his way out of our confrontation on the battlefield, but there was no way out now. Many in the room seemed to be interested in the outcome of this test, even Ubba, who I knew was as true a believer in our gods as a man could be. Edmund was a true believer too, I could see that in his eyes, so of course our test would ultimately make it clear which God, or gods were the real ones.

Ubba decided to strip Edmund as to make sure the king wasn't wearing any armor, but he did neither interfere nor object to my plans for the king. ´We are going to find out,´ I started. ´Whether the English God is as powerful as our Danish gods. If he is, and if the king lives, then we shall become Christians, all of us!´ I spoke true, I meant it, and as the arrows flew and the Great King Edmund hit the ground twitching, I knew. That both Odin and my brother would always have my back.

Part 4

The End of a Warrior

The war drums were echoing through the battle, each hit pushed us further and further, heightening our morale. The air was thick, and the storm that was brewing before that battle had hit harder than we ever expected. The thunder sounded louder, almost echoing like a war drum and Thor was hitting it with his lightning, heightening our morale for each hit. . I remember, before the battle, I spoke with one of my fiercest warriors. ‘A storm is coming, Thor is here to fight with us.’ 'Thor is not here to fight, he is here as a spectator. This is not a battle, this is us winning.' I laughed as he said that, for we both knew that the Irish warriors could not win. 'They have no morale nor strategy, to us, they are nothing'. 'Aye, we have Thor’s presence to guide us.' We hit our cups together, in a toast for our upcoming battle. There was nothing that could hide the Irish from our wrath. 'The storm draws closer, get ready.' I said, drinking everything left in my cup.

The lightning hit a tree, not far from where I stood. Thor was here to win with us, and for a God to be present during a battle of ours did more than boost our warriors morale. Our warriors fought hard, but so did the Irish. The screams of both enemy and my fellow warriors were deafened by the thunderous hits by the war drums, and the more ever so even hits of lightning that struck closer and closer towards the battle field, even a wrong step could mean the death of a warrior, or a coward if the Irish were not careful enough. 'Fight on men! Show them the wrath of Thor! Show them what we are made of!' I yelled, though it seemed to be only deafened by the thunderous sounds everywhere. The bloodshed on the battlefield was filled with blood and bodies. I rode in with my horse, as I saw it fit to finally take part in the fight. As I rode in, I slashed my sword into the Irish warriors, the fiery yells from my allies pushed further into enemy lines, where suddenly my horse fell, an arrow hit it right in the head, throwing me defenseless down to the ground. I quickly rose from the ground, covered in blood and mud and started swinging my sword against the Irish cowards that had killed my war steed. In each hit I ran further into the Irish soldiers with my fellow warriors. 'Fear the boneless' I yelled as we hit hard upon the soldiers at the Irish frontline. Hitting soldiers with my sword and blocking with my shield, each hit from my sword upon the Irish further pushed me into enemy lines. Suddenly, an Irish soldier yelled like he mustered the sound from his toes to his mouth. 'Shield wall!'. From everywhere, Irish soldiers stormed us with their shields, surrounding and pushing us together. 'Push!' I screamed at the top of my lungs, pushing with all my might to break us free from the shield wall, but at that moment I knew that most of us wouldn’t make it out alive.The strategy that we had used so many times before had this time hit us back, using one of our best strategies against us.

After minutes, half of us within the shields that wormed around us like a snake that caught its prey, half of us were dead. We could not fight nor push our way out. At this moment, I thought back to the path of my life, looking back at this battle, wishing that I had planned our strategy in another way. Though, I knew that I would never change myself in any way, for my ruthlessness in battle is what gave me my name, Ivar the boneless. Evading each sword that came between the gaps in the shield wall, and quickly countering with my own sword was a good strategy, but could only keep me alive for so long. 'WATCH THE GAPS!' I yelled, to no use, for the Irish had already started taking us out one by one. I could see the warrior I toasted with before the battle, valiantelly fighting back in the shield wall. 'To Valhalla Ivar!' He yelled as he pushed back with his own shield, and the soldiers around him were doing the same. 'To Valhalla!'. Every soldier began to push back, giving us a chance to turn the tides in the battle that had moments ago seemed to be lost. 'PUSH!' The Irish warriors screamed back to push us back into the damned pit of mud that we had created while stampeding into the Irish warriors, some of us almost slipping in it. Still evading their stabs from the gaps, I felt a sharp pain in my knee, I had become hit and was bleeding. With all my might I kept pushing and withstood the pain. It became much harder to evade, and a blade from the shield wall pierced my armor, stabbing me in the shoulder. There and then, I fell down, covered in blood and mud.

I hit the ground again, but this time, I could not get up, as the shield wall kept pushing, I felt a stab in the chest and the shield wall continued to step over me. 'To Valhalla, Ivar!' several warriors yelled at me, one last time. If it was for me to get one last inch of battle in me, or to usher me to the final feast with the gods and great warriors, I do not know. As the world around me became a blur, and the sounds of the war faded out. I thought about my brother, Ubba. How, if we would lose, he shall avenge me and our warriors, and defeat the Irish. I thought about how we had shared many battles, and triumphs over the enemy. Maybe if he had been here to fight with me, it would have ended differently for me. I took a last breath, waiting for the valkyries to bring me to Odin's hall, where I would forever feast like the true warrior I am.

#be gentle #the last kingdom #ivar the boneless

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