𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑰𝒗𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

14

"I'm a cripple, and my wife is here," Ivar stated plainly. "I need a bodyguard."

Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, who then spoke.

"It's not just the bodyguard, Ivar. The fact is, you never seem to consult us about anything anymore. It's as if you think you're the leader of our Great Army."

Ivar straightened, locking eyes first with Hvitserk, then Ubbe.

"Do you think you're the leader?" he asked, sarcasm clear as day in his voice.

"No, I don't," Ivar replied smoothly. "Why would I ever think such a thing?"

Ubbe nodded, missing the irony.

"Good. Because you're not the leader. We three brothers lead together."

"Mmm, just as Father would have wished," Ivar muttered under his breath.

"We're older than you, Ivar. You can't just push us aside. It's unacceptable."

"You're right, Hvitserk," Ivar said, softer now. "But you have to understand—it's harder for me to stake my claim. I want to be your equal, truly. But to do that, I have to make you forget I'm a cripple."

He looked at Ubbe, then Hvitserk, eyes steady.

"Listen, Ivar. You know what you are. And we accept it."

Ivar hummed quietly.

"It makes no difference to us. You're our brother."

"Don't try to make us feel sorry for you," Hvitserk said bluntly. "Because, brother, we never will."

Daenaera quietly left the brothers to talk and returned to her dragon. Feeling the tension in the air, Sylvarion shifted restlessly. She placed a calming hand on his scaled neck.

"Sylvarion, lykiri," she murmured softly. "You two need to be careful with your words."

Her voice was steady as she stepped from behind the rock.

"I can control myself, but no one controls a dragon when he's furious."

A small smirk tugged at Ivar's lips. She made him proud.

"There's a large Saxon force on its way here. But I thought you already knew that," Ubbe said before leaving.

Ivar looked at Daenaera when she approached.

"Care to continue for me, my sweet Daenaera?"

Her eyes lit up. She loved it when he called her by name.

She took the book and began reading aloud again.

⸻

Two days later, Ivar and Daenaera were at the blacksmith's. Ivar lay on the floor, waiting for the final piece of his new braces to be made. His brothers paced nearby.

"Ivar?" Ubbe called.

"Ah, what are you doing?" Hvitserk teased, a grin playing on his lips.

"Wait, and I'll show you," Ivar answered confidently.

When the blacksmith announced the braces were ready, Ivar slowly pushed himself up. To his brothers' surprise, he stood taller than before—the new braces forced him into a straighter posture.

His eyes gleamed, lips curled in a fierce smile.

Afterwards, his brothers left, and the couple went to the great hall. They had to make a sacrifice—someone willing to offer themselves for their cause.

The guards brought in a girl with dirty blonde hair and a careless smile. Daenaera's gaze hardened instantly.

It was clear she didn't like the girl—and Ivar noticed. He kept the girl at a distance.

"Slave," Ivar began. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course," the girl replied. "You're Ivar."

Daenaera scoffed inwardly. How pathetic.

"Ivar? Is that all?" Ivar asked, eyes cold.

He noticed his wife's growing annoyance and gently took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"No. Ivar the Boneless."

"You don't seem afraid of him," Daenaera said nonchalantly.

"No," the girl smiled broadly. What's wrong with her? the princess wondered.

"We expect the Saxons to attack with a large army outside these walls," Ivar said. "We must ask the Gods for help. We need to offer a sacrifice. Would you be willing to give yourself for us?"

"I'll do anything you ask," the girl answered. Daenaera rolled her eyes again.

"Hmm. Take her away," Ivar ordered.

As the guards led the girl away, he turned to his wife.

"Daenaera, what's wrong?" he asked, cupping her face.

"I just don't like her," she muttered, looking away.

"She's a sacrifice. Nothing more," he murmured, kissing her cheek.