Ivar Hammerfell D2 {done}

Ivar never talked about his height - how could he talk about his height when all he did was drag himself across the ground? When he didn't have the ability to stand on his own two feet? He was nothing more than a snake slithering around on the ground. Almost worthless. He didn't care what his clothes looked like anymore. So many were torn and ripped and left ragged from the years of belly crawling across the harsh surface. Blisters one covered his hands before his skin hardened making it harder to tear. Dirt permanently caked itself beneath his cracked fingernails. His face was covered in dirt and the sweat rolled from his brow. Ivar Hammerfell was a hard worker - he was determined to finish anything that was placed before him, and he wouldn't give no matter how hard it all became.

He remembered the day he used to walk around freely as an innocent child with no cares in the world. How the smile used to twist across his face. How he felt the happiness every man should feel growing up. His father cared for him. He had a loving mother who did anything he asked for. But soon it all changed.

A house fire left him alone and vulnerable. The young toddler was trapped inside begging for mercy, and the family he was with at the time rescued him, yet on the way out one of the boards holding the roof above their heads came crashing down landing on his spine crushing the lower vertebrae paralyzing the boy from the waist down. The guardians at the moment had a chance to run away, but they didn't. Ivar didn't know how to cope, didn't know how to deal. His father disowned him, abandoned him. He carried him far away, and left him to die. He wanted the wild animals to devour the helpless child, but Ivar found a way to survive. But it wasn't long after his father returned carrying him home - he only guessed the burden of killing his son was far too much.

He watched his father groom his older brother. Ubbe was the favorite, the one his father cared for more, and Ivar envied him. He wanted to know the love of the man who brought him into the world. He watched Hvitserk and Sigurd receive more love - all he remained was a child nobody cared for. The love of his parents wasn't there. They must've been a shamed. Their son they wanted to grow up and train for the games didn't have that ability anymore - or did he?

Getting ready wasn't easy for him anymore, and people offered to help, but he refused. Ivar was determined to do things by himself - he didn't need a nanny standing over him helping him dress. It took longer, yet it was an easy fix. Wake up earlier. It was easy until it came to his lame legs, they didn't want to work no matter how hard he tried, Ivar couldn't fix them. Next step was fixing his dark shaggy hair; sometimes he rolled it in small braids scattered across his head while other times he let it hang lose. He didn't let it grow long like his brothers - no, Ivar wanted to be different, and long hair wasn't for him. He didn't care about shaving and making himself look nice, but all he had was tiny bits of hair slowly creeping down the side of his face. In his eyes, the sideburns made him look more manly. He enjoyed looking up from the ground with his vibrant blue eyes glaring into the eyes of those around. To move easier, he tied his legs together so they moved in one piece. His arms eventually became strong, but not once had he gotten used to crawling across the ground; it was something he learned to deal with.

At the first age he could, Ivar journeyed into the training center, and it was a sad day for him. Nobody wanted to assist the crippled boy. Nobody didn't want to teach him how to fight, but he kept going. Ivar pressed on. He wanted to stand up for himself, and he wanted to find glory in the eyes of his father, his mother, his brothers, himself. He was as useless as a piece of garbage, yet he challenged himself to prove just how strong he truly was. He lifted the weights to build the muscles in his upper arms, he worked with a sword. Learning to fight while seated. Not being able to stand hindered his ability, but not once did he let it hold himself back. He went to work, and he built himself braces allowing himself to stand, but his legs never moved, and he'd never have a chance to run away from a fight. All it did was make him enter a fight head on, and he wouldn't crawl away until the enemy was dead. It was the only way to keep himself alive.

His family pushed him away, made him the outcast - Ivar Hammerfell didn't belong to them, he didn't fit in, he was nothing to them, and he yearned to prove them wrong. Every day he tried to make himself grow stronger, he tried to learn more about using weapons, shooting bows. One day he learned he was capable of many things. He could go against the people gathered in the training center, he could shoot, he successfully used the weapons and fought with them. And now he wanted the chance to fight his family. To show that he wasn't just some dumb crippled kid.

Ivar set out on a mission to make everything right. Seeking justice on those who hurt him. Destroy anyone who tried to tell him he was a failure. He wanted revenge on the family that left him in the house to die. He wanted to find who hurt him. He grew up with one thing in mind, and he didn't forgive people easily. Do him wrong, Ivar wouldn't become a friend. He sought revenge, and he made sure the damage was done worse than what it was before. The corners of his lips twisted into a sly grin every time someone screamed. He was one nobody wanted as an enemy.

And now he wanted more. He wanted to prove his worth, and he challenged people to battle. And while sitting on a chair with his legs strapped together, Ivar proved just how good he was, how great he was becoming. One day he would lead a crowd of people into the right direction. He'd lead them through the district in the nights, and he would join in with his brothers on missions. Stealing from those who were in need, hunting down the enemy. One day he would show the world just how great he was.

Ivar Hammerfell would one day reign supreme by claiming what was rightfully his, and maybe then his family would realize the crippled child they left to die turned into the best gift they could ever receive.