𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑰𝒗𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

35

Ivar arrived at the place Rollo had indicated, expecting to find his brothers and Lagertha—but no one was there. Only Margarethe remained. As Ivar turned toward the girl, Daenaera stepped forward beside him.

"I know you, don't I?" Ivar smirked wickedly. "Margarethe."

"Iksos ziry zȳhon?" Daenaera whispered, eyes sharp. (Is it her?) She had heard the story from Ivar, and the thought of this girl stirred a cold fury. Margarethe had wounded him deeply, and Daenaera was ready to exact justice.

"Kessa ziry iksos." Ivar replied darkly. (Yes, it is.)

A Viking had placed the bound servant girl into Ivar's chariot.

⸻

When Ivar returned, Harald was waiting.

"So you didn't find them?" Harald asked.

"No. They were gone—except this one," Ivar said, nodding toward Margarethe. "They left her behind." He tapped her head meaningfully.

"Why is she bound?" Harald demanded, seeking an explanation.

"Because she's mad," Ivar said, then called to his brother. "Hvitserk, you know her, don't you?"

"Of course I remember," Hvitserk replied, leaning over the chariot to speak gently to the girl.

Daenaera grimaced, faking a retch as she watched the scene. She moved to Ivar's side to steady him.

⸻

"It's alright. I won't hurt you," Hvitserk soothed, undoing her hands from the rope. Daenaera's face twisted in disbelief, and Ivar shrugged in response.

"What are you doing, brother?" Ivar finally asked, a mix of disgust and confusion creasing his brow.

"Some evil spirit has possessed her," he said, as Hvitserk embraced the girl cautiously.

"She will kill you."

"I'll take my chance," Hvitserk replied, stepping back.

⸻

"We'll make a fine coffin for you, brother," Daenaera shouted teasingly from behind, earning a laugh from Ivar as he pulled her into his lap.

"I always wonder if I can love you more... and then you show me I can," Ivar murmured into her neck, planting soft kisses.

"Careful, husband," she whispered in his ear, ensuring only he could hear. "You're going insane."

"I will gladly go insane for you, my sweet wife," Ivar whispered back, their lips meeting in a tender, fierce kiss.

⸻

Later, in their chambers, a servant girl arrived bearing a letter. Daenaera's face twisted with concern and confusion as she broke the seal and read the message, dismissing the girl silently.

The letter bore grim news: Leanor was dead, and Veamond questioned the legitimacy of Nyra's sons.

"I need you near me, dear sister."

Daenaera's mind was made. She would fly to King's Landing without delay. She paced the room in restless circles, unaware that Ivar had entered.

⸻

"What troubles you, my sweet wife?" Ivar asked, settling on the bed beside her.

Daenaera seemed distant, seeing only the space between them until he reached for her hand, pulling her gently close.

"Dae?" he whispered.

Her pale green eyes met his, haunted yet resolute.

"A letter from Rhaenyra," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. "I know you're king now, and you should stay to strengthen your claim, my love... but I must go to King's Landing. My sister needs me. You don't have to worry—my uncle Daemon and Rhaenyra will be there."

Ivar listened carefully, tracing her cheek.

"I can't not worry about you, Dae. You are my wife," he said with a tender smile.

Her gaze softened.

"When you return," he whispered, "I want a child growing inside you."

⸻

"Ivar," she said, her voice catching—neither fully warning nor pleading. She knew what would follow.

He kissed her lips deeply, but when she didn't kiss back, he paused.

"You don't want to?" he asked, brow raised.

"I never said that," she smiled, leaning into him.

Their kiss deepened as he pressed her to the soft bed.

⸻

"Tell me if..." Ivar began.

She silenced him with a gentle shake of her head.

"I promise I will," she whispered. "I trust you."

⸻

"Fuck," he gasped, sliding fully inside her. "You feel so tight."

He started slow, knowing she needed time. As her moans grew louder, he quickened his pace, head buried in the crook of her neck, murmuring praises.

His hand found her clit, circling fast as her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging in.

Her orgasm built, her body tightening around him, breath ragged, whispering his name over and over.

⸻

It was too much. Ivar gripped the bed, pumping his final thrusts before spilling inside her.

He collapsed atop Daenaera, head resting on her chest as she stroked his back.

"Did I hurt you?" he mumbled, eyes closed.

"No, husband. It was perfect," she whispered.

⸻

"No, you were perfect," he smiled, rolling beside her, peeling off his shirt. "I still can't believe you're mine."

"I am very much yours, dear husband," she replied, brushing a stray braid behind his ear, "but I must go."

⸻

"Not today, please," Ivar begged softly.

Daenaera hesitated, then nodded.

"Ivar," she said sternly.

He looked up, face pleading.

"On the morrow, then," she relented.

He pulled her close, kissing her softly.