Chapter 44: Destroying The Daggars
Ivar's gaze lingered on Alexander, his emerald eyes gleaming with an unnerving mixture of satisfaction and disinterest. Slowly, he straightened, his movements deliberate and fluid, like a predator retreating after asserting dominance. The faint smirk on his lips remained as he dusted an invisible speck off his tailored jacket, the action a silent declaration that Alexander was no longer worth his immediate attention.
"We're done here," Ivar said, his tone flat, devoid of any lingering amusement. His words hung in the air like a sentence passed by an unyielding judge. He shifted his gaze to Rebekah, his piercing eyes softening ever so slightly, though a flicker of caution danced within them. "Unless, of course, you still have unfinished business with him?"
Rebekah stepped forward, her movements graceful yet charged with a predatory edge. Her icy blue eyes never left Alexander, who shrank further into his restraints, his breaths shallow and erratic. A slow, sadistic grin spread across her face, the corner of her mouth twitching as though the very idea of unfinished business delighted her.
"Oh, I most certainly do," she purred, her voice dripping with malice. Her gaze darted briefly to Ivar, the grin widening into something far more sinister. "I've been waiting for this moment, and now…" She trailed off, returning her focus to Alexander, whose face paled visibly.
Ivar studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable save for the slight arch of one brow. He knew that look in Rebekah's eyes, the spark of vindictive glee that often came when she held the upper hand. A small sigh escaped his lips, and he turned to his siblings, who had been silently observing the exchange from the periphery.
"Alright," he said evenly, his tone carrying the weight of command. "We're leaving." He took a few steps toward the door before pausing, glancing over his shoulder at Rebekah. "Don't kill him," he added, his voice laced with warning. "The hunter's curse is an inconvenience you don't need."
Rebekah let out a mock sigh, rolling her eyes theatrically. "Oh, don't worry, brother," she replied, her tone saccharine yet sharp. "I know the rules." She tilted her head toward Alexander, her grin morphing into something almost playful. "But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun."
Ivar's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of skepticism crossing his face. "Fun within reason," he said, his voice firm, though he made no move to stop her. Instead, he turned fully toward the door, gesturing for his siblings to follow.
Kol smirked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "I do hope you leave him in one piece, Rebekah," he teased, his tone light but mocking. "Though I wouldn't bet on it."
Elijah said nothing, his expression calm but with a faint crease of disapproval on his brow. He cast a brief glance at Alexander, who looked like a cornered animal, then followed Ivar out without a word.
As the door clicked shut behind them, the room seemed to shrink, the oppressive silence thickening. Rebekah took a deliberate step closer to Alexander, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She leaned in, her icy gaze boring into his, her smile never wavering.
"Now," she said softly, her voice a chilling whisper. "Where were we?"
Alexander's hands trembled against the restraints, his chest heaving as panic flooded his features. Rebekah reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his jaw, the touch deceptively gentle. But the cold fire in her eyes promised that this was only the beginning.
The night air in the courtyard was cool, the faint rustle of leaves filling the silence as Ivar led his siblings outside. His stride was measured, deliberate, and his emerald eyes glimmered under the moonlight with a calculating light. Behind him, Kol trailed with his usual casual swagger, hands in his pockets and an amused smirk playing on his lips. Elijah, as always, moved with composed grace, his expression impassive but his keen eyes missing nothing.
Ivar stopped abruptly near a small stone table where a set of seven ornate silver daggers lay gleaming under the faint glow of the torches. His gaze dropped to them, the faintest flicker of disdain crossing his features. He crouched slightly, his fingers brushing over the intricate designs etched into the hilts.
"They thought Freya was one of us," Ivar murmured, his voice a quiet blend of amusement and contempt. His lips curved into a small smirk as he straightened, lifting one of the daggers for closer inspection. "Seven daggers for seven Mikaelsons," he continued, his tone turning sharp, laced with mockery. "Their ignorance is almost charming."
Kol snorted, leaning lazily against a pillar. "Well, we can't blame them for trying. Freya does tend to have that 'immortal witch' energy. Hardly her fault she's the odd one out."
Ivar turned the dagger over in his hand, his sharp gaze lingering on the blade as though weighing its worth. A low chuckle escaped him, the sound dark and laced with menace. "Persistent fool," he muttered, flicking his wrist. Green flames sprang to life in his palm, licking hungrily at the dagger's edge. "But I'll ensure they never try again."
The fire consumed the blade in seconds, the metal bubbling and warping under the intense heat before crumbling into ash. Ivar's expression remained cold, detached, as he methodically picked up each of the remaining daggers and repeated the process. The flickering flames reflected in his emerald eyes, casting an eerie glow that made his features even sharper.
As he finished, he let the ashes fall through his fingers, scattering them to the wind. His gaze shifted briefly to Niklaus, who had been silently observing from the shadows. "No one will wield these against us again," Ivar said pointedly, his voice carrying a note of warning that didn't go unnoticed by the hybrid.
Niklaus's jaw tightened, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "And what makes you think I would need one, brother?" he asked, his tone light but brimming with a barely concealed edge.
Ivar arched a brow, his smirk returning. "Oh, Niklaus," he said smoothly, brushing his hands clean of the ash. "It's not what you would need. It's what others might use against you. I'm simply… safeguarding our interests."
Kol laughed outright, clapping Niklaus on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't take it personally, Klaus. You're just the most likely to inspire betrayal."
Niklaus's lips twitched in irritation, but he said nothing, his gaze lingering on the remaining ashes.
A faint, bloodcurdling scream broke through the quiet, the sound carrying from the house. All heads turned toward the source, and Kol grinned, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "Rebekah's certainly enjoying herself," he drawled, his tone almost admiring. "I wonder how long Alexander can last."
Ivar's smirk deepened, though his expression betrayed no particular enjoyment. "Long enough, I imagine," he replied coolly. "But not too long. Rebekah has… limits. Sometimes."
Elijah tilted his head, his lips pressing into a faint line of disapproval. "Do we really need to let her indulge to this extent?" he asked, his tone measured but edged with concern.
Ivar glanced at him, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Alexander made his choices," he said simply, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Now he pays for them. Rebekah deserves her moment."
Another scream echoed, sharper this time, and Kol's grin widened. "Sounds like she's getting creative," he remarked, clearly amused.
"Focus," Ivar said sharply, though there was no real bite in his tone. He gestured for them to gather closer, his piercing gaze sweeping over his siblings. "Now, fill me in on what I've missed."
Elijah straightened, his expression thoughtful as he began recounting events from the past century. Niklaus chimed in occasionally, his tone clipped and wary, while Kol threw in sarcastic quips and exaggerated anecdotes, earning the occasional glare from Elijah.
Ivar listened intently, his face a mask of calm, though his sharp eyes flickered with subtle reactions—amusement at Kol's antics, faint irritation at Niklaus's evasiveness, and rare flickers of approval when Elijah spoke. From time to time, another scream from the house would interrupt the conversation, prompting a momentary pause before they resumed as though nothing had happened.
As the hours wore on, the tension in the courtyard ebbed and flowed, the Mikaelson siblings falling into their familiar rhythm of shared stories, veiled barbs, and unspoken loyalty. Through it all, Ivar remained the center, his presence commanding, his emerald eyes ever watchful. And from the house, Rebekah's work continued, each scream a reminder of the price of crossing the Mikaelsons.
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