𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑰𝒗𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

41

"Urgent news from the North, my princess." Ser Erryk appeared, handing Daenaera a folded letter.

"Thank you, Ser Erryk." She dismissed him with a nod, then carefully unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the words over and over.

"Ivar spared the sacrifice's life from York. I think she bewitched him—he listens to no one, but I know he will listen to you. Dae, you're needed here.

Your silly brother, Hvitserk."

"Daenaera?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft but concerned as she approached. Her cousin's face had tightened, a shadow crossing her features. Without a word, Daenaera passed the letter over. Rhaenyra read it, then looked up, searching for answers in Daenaera's guarded expression.

"Ziry vestretan ziry istan daorun naejot vysy bē, veter kesīr ziry iksos vīlūn zȳhon glaeson."
He said she was nothing to worry about, yet here he is, sparing her life.
Daenaera whispered, eyes locked on Rhaenyra. The Black Queen reached out, taking her hand, resting the other gently on her shoulder.

"You should fly back, dear sister. I cannot force you to stay here, not when your heart is elsewhere."
Rhaenyra's voice was soft, tinged with guilt.
"I will never forgive myself if I forced you to remain, knowing your mind is torn."

Daenaera managed a weak smile and nodded.
"I will fly back once I've figured everything out. I promise."
That brought a small smile to Rhaenyra's lips.

"Thank you, Dae. Now go and prepare—the flight will be long."
She kissed her forehead tenderly.

⸻

When Sylvarion touched down in Kattegat, all eyes turned. The Targaryen princess had returned.
"īlon jāhor sagon arlī isse zaldrīzesdōron olvie aderī issa valonqar"
We will be back in Dragonstone very soon, my boy, Daenaera whispered to her dragon, running her fingers over his scaled head.

She walked slowly through the crowded market, her pale skin making her stand out like a ghost among the Norse. Bored and restless, Hvitserk spotted her from across the square.

"I missed you, Dae."
The elder Ragnarsson's voice caught her attention. She grinned, raising an eyebrow.
"Really? Did you miss Sylvarion too?"
Hvitserk swallowed hard, but Daenaera chuckled, stepping closer.
"Don't worry. I won't feed you to him first."
She winked as they headed toward the throne room.

"Did you receive my letter?" Hvitserk asked, glancing sideways at her.

Daenaera's expression darkened; her jaw clenched tightly.
"Yes, you did," he muttered, catching the hardness in her eyes.
"Where are they?" she demanded.

Hvitserk shrugged.
"I don't know. But we will soon."
She nodded grimly.

⸻

In the chambers she shared with Ivar, Daenaera spotted the servant girl. Her lips curled into a frown as she called out sharply.
"Come out."

The girl emerged hesitantly. Daenaera's voice dropped cold and dangerous.
"What happened while I was gone? Speak now, or I promise you will die screaming."

The girl trembled but hurried to explain.
"My princess... the girl who was meant to be sacrificed... she came to Ivar one night, promising to bear him a son. They... spent time together after that, but I know nothing more. Please spare my life."

Daenaera exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You are dismissed. But if you learn anything else, you will tell me."

The servant nodded quickly and left.

⸻

Later that night, Daenaera sat on Ivar's throne, swirling her Valyrian dagger between pale fingers. The door opened, and Ivar entered, the same girl he swore Daenaera need not worry about by his side.

"Nyke ūndegon ao enjoyed zȳhon vīlūj skori nyke istan vȳctis."
I see you enjoyed her company when I was gone, Daenaera said, voice low and trembling as she straightened in the throne.

"Daenaera—" Ivar murmured, but she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Ao otāpagon nyke daor gūrēñagon ao paktot, yn nyke gōntan."
You thought I wouldn't find out, but I did.
Her jaw clenched tightly.

"You have no right to sit there," the blonde girl snapped, stepping forward.

Daenaera rose, taking a step closer, fury simmering beneath her calm.
"I have no right? Then who does? You?"
She turned to Ivar, whose face was an unreadable mask—except for the guilt in his eyes.

"Ao ivestretan daor pendagon bē zȳhon, bona ziry iksos daorun yn nykeā sacrifice. Syt nykeā dārys ao pirtir nykeā lot."
You said not to think of her—that she was nothing but a sacrifice. For a king, you lie a lot.
Her voice was a growl as she tightened her grip on the dagger.
"Tepagon issa mēre drīve daor naejot nektogon zȳhon ilagon."
Give me one reason not to slice her down right now.

The girl shuddered beside Ivar.
"Skoros gōntan ziry kivio ao? Naejot gryves ao nykeā tresy? Nykeā prince naejot aōha dēmalion, sīr bona vēttan ao mīvojughagon bē issa?"
What did she promise you? An heir to your throne, so you forgot about me?

"Dae Ivestragī issa ȳzaldrīzes."
Let me talk, Ivar finally muttered, but Daenaera scoffed at him.

"Aōha gaomon emagon vestretan vose. Mirros else ao jaelagon naejot add? Iksos ziry rūsīr riñnykeā already?"
Your actions have said enough. Anything else to add? Is she already with child?
Her eyes never left his.

Ivar lowered his head. Daenaera turned away, holding back tears.
"Eman daorun else naejot ivestragon, raqagon aōha vasār līve valzȳrys."
I have nothing else to say. Enjoy your pathetic whore of a husband.

As she left, she threw a dagger toward his throne. The girl gasped, but Daenaera didn't care. She was broken, betrayed.

⸻

Outside, Hvitserk found her quickly.
"So? What did he say?" His voice was quiet, tense as he approached.

"He didn't deny it. Vīlūn nāpāstre."
Fucking traitor.
She let her head fall on his shoulder, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"What will you do?"
His jaw tightened in anger and disbelief. How could his brother be so foolish? He had a fierce warrior princess, a Targaryen with a dragon—and he let this happen.

"I'm going home, Hvitserk. I can't stay here."
She muttered, and he nodded, pulling her close in a firm embrace.

"I'm going to miss you threatening me," Ragnarsson whispered, making her smile faintly.

"I'll miss you too."

They stood, and Hvitserk escorted her to Sylvarion's waiting side, stepping back just in case.

"I have something for you," Daenaera called as he turned to leave.

"For me?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded and climbed off the dragon, holding out a sword.
"This is Valyrian steel. It cuts deeper than any other."

Hvitserk took it, noticing how much it resembled her dagger.
"It's the same as your dagger."

She nodded solemnly.
"Just a little present... to remember me by, Hvitserk Lothbrok. I don't know if I'll ever see you again."

He nodded, pulling her into a hug.
"If you ever come back... visit me, dear sister."

Daenaera smiled softly.
"I'll think about it. Sovēs."

With that, she mounted Sylvarion and took flight, leaving Kattegat behind.