The tension in the room thickened as Mikael's command echoed, leaving no space for evasion. Ivar, ever composed, allowed a brief moment of hesitation to pass. His gaze shifted from Mikael to Esther, his eyes softening with a flicker of guilt. A deep sigh escaped his lips, his shoulders rising and falling under the weight of the truth he was about to reveal.
He turned back to his father, meeting Mikael's expectant and unyielding stare. His voice was calm, steady, yet tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for hiding this from you all these years. Freya..." He paused, his jaw tightening as he searched for the words. "Freya did not die from a plague in the old world. She was taken by Dahlia, because of a deal Mother made with her."
The room froze.
Mikael's expression, carved from stone, didn't shift immediately. For a moment, it seemed he hadn't heard. But then the weight of Ivar's words pierced through, shattering the silence like a thunderclap. His sharp, ice-blue eyes widened, and the veneer of control that had defined him for centuries fractured.
"No," Mikael whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with disbelief. But the word quickly gave way to fury. "No!" His roar shook the very walls of the compound, the sheer force of his anger reverberating through the room.
He turned to Esther with the precision of a predator. His face, once cold and stern, was now a mask of betrayal and anguish. "You," he growled, his tone deadly, a low rumble that made the air heavy.
Esther's knees buckled before she even realized she had fallen. Mikael's aura descended on her, oppressive and suffocating, like a storm pressing down on her chest. She clutched at the stone floor, her fingers trembling as her golden hair spilled over her face, hiding the shame etched into her features.
"I... I had no choice!" Esther cried, her voice breaking as she raised her tear-streaked face to meet her husband's gaze. Her body trembled under the weight of his fury, her hands shaking as she clutched at her shawl, as if it could shield her from his wrath. "Dahlia demanded the firstborn! She would have killed us all if I hadn't agreed!"
"You lied to me!" Mikael bellowed, his voice cracking with the force of his grief. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with rage. "You told me my daughter—our daughter—was dead! You let me mourn her!" His chest heaved, the betrayal cutting so deeply that for a moment, he looked like a broken man, his gaze flickering with disbelief and anguish.
The others stood paralyzed in the face of their father's rage. Rebekah's hands flew to her mouth, her sapphire eyes wide with horror. "Freya's alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling, the words barely audible. Her delicate features crumpled with confusion and pain. "All this time?"
Niklaus's expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. Fury burned in his sharp features, but behind it was a flicker of something else—shock, perhaps even hope. "You knew," he hissed, his voice low and venomous as he glared at Esther. "You knew she lived, and you said nothing. Why?"
Elijah's calm facade finally cracked. His brown eyes widened, the weight of this revelation breaking through his usual composure. He took a half-step toward his mother, his voice steady but edged with disbelief. "You let us believe she was gone," he said, his tone quieter but no less devastating. "You let Mikael grieve her as if she were dead. How could you do this, Mother?"
Esther tried to rise, but her strength faltered under Mikael's gaze. "I did it to protect all of you!" she cried, her voice desperate, pleading. She turned her tear-streaked face to Ivar, seeking some kind of support. "Ivar, you understand why I had to—"
"I understand," Ivar interrupted, his voice cold, cutting off her excuses. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with a quiet intensity. "But that doesn't make it right."
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on, and no one dared move until Kol's sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Wait," he said, his tone laced with both curiosity and incredulity. He pushed himself off the pillar he had been leaning against, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked around the room. "If the deal was for the firstborn, then why was Freya taken... and not Ivar?"
The words hung in the air like a dagger, their weight sinking into everyone present. Kol's question froze the room anew, the siblings' gazes shifting in unison toward Esther, then Finn, and finally Ivar. The unspoken question burned behind every pair of eyes, their expressions ranging from confusion to dawning suspicion.
Esther visibly flinched, her hands clutching her shawl as if it were a lifeline. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her pale complexion seemed to grow even whiter as she glanced at Mikael, then at Ivar, her trembling hands betraying the panic she couldn't conceal.
Before anyone could demand an answer, Mikael's low voice broke the silence. It was steady at first, but with each word, it grew heavier, filled with the weight of realization. "That's because..." He trailed off, his ice-blue eyes narrowing as memories surfaced. "That's because Ivar did not have magic."
The room collectively stiffened. Mikael's gaze darkened, his sharp features hardening into a mask of grim certainty. "Ayanna," he said, his voice like a hammer striking stone. "She sealed Ivar's magic when he was little."
Ivar, who had stood stoic until now, straightened further, his jaw tightening. He met his father's gaze without flinching, though a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or guilt—crossed his features.
Mikael exhaled slowly, his hands curling into fists at his sides before relaxing. "You escaped that fate, Ivar," he said, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. There was a strange mix of pride and sorrow in his tone. "And perhaps it was a good thing. Because now..." He paused, his icy eyes locking onto Ivar with piercing intensity. "Now, you are strong enough to face Dahlia. Just like you said, son. You've been training for this your entire life."
The words struck like a blow, reverberating through the room.