Ivar woke with a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping open to the sight of Rebekah crouched over him, her hands trembling as she pressed the wrists of a bleeding girl against his mouth. The coppery tang of blood hit his tongue, and his senses flared to life. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he blinked rapidly, trying to piece together where he was and what was happening.
Rebekah's face was pale, her blue eyes wide and shimmering with barely-contained panic. Her blonde hair, usually immaculate, clung messily to her face, damp with sweat. Relief washed over her features as their gazes met, and she let out a shaky sigh, her lips parting as if she'd been holding her breath for far too long.
"He's alive!" she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of joy and desperation. Her head turned sharply to look over her shoulder, where the rest of the family stood, their tension palpable.
At her words, a collective exhale swept through the room. Niklaus, who had been pacing like a caged lion, froze mid-step, his shoulders dropping slightly as the weight of worry eased. His jaw, clenched so tightly moments ago, relaxed, though his piercing blue eyes remained fixed on Ivar with an unreadable intensity. Elijah, ever the picture of calm, closed his eyes briefly, his hand resting over his heart as he dipped his head in silent relief.
Rebekah turned back to Ivar, her hands still shaking as she kept the bleeding girl's wrists pressed against his lips. Her voice was a soft whisper now, a mix of concern and urgency. "Drink," she said, her tone pleading, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer. "You need this, Ivar."
Ivar's gaze flicked between her and the girl, whose limp form rested awkwardly against Rebekah's knees. The girl's head lolled to the side, her brown hair matted with sweat and blood, her pale face drained of color. Her shallow breaths came in uneven spurts, a faint whimper escaping her lips as her body twitched weakly.
Ivar tried to push himself up, his muscles protesting with fiery resistance. His hands gripped the floor beneath him, and he managed to lift his head slightly. His green eyes, still sharp despite the exhaustion etched into his features, bore into Rebekah's.
His lips parted, and his fangs extended, glinting in the dim light. Rebekah's shoulders sagged in relief, her hands steadying as she gently pressed the girl's wrists closer to his mouth.
The moment his fangs pierced the girl's skin, warmth flooded his veins, chasing away the cold that had gripped him. His body tensed, then relaxed, the strength slowly returning to his limbs. Rebekah's gaze never wavered, her breathing uneven as she watched him feed. She bit her lip, her knuckles white where they gripped the girl's wrists, her emotions a tumultuous mix of relief and unease.
The taste of blood was electrifying—rich, coppery, and intoxicating. Ivar's body seemed to awaken fully with every swallow, warmth spreading through his veins like wildfire. Strength surged into his limbs, washing away the leaden heaviness that had anchored him to the ground. His breathing, once shallow and erratic, evened out as vitality returned to him.
Rebekah's eyes remained locked on his face, her own breath catching with each second that passed. Her trembling had subsided, but her hands still gripped the girl's wrists tightly, as though afraid to let go. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, but her gaze betrayed the depth of her emotions—fear, hope, and a flicker of something she rarely let show: vulnerability.
The girl's body twitched faintly, and Ivar slowed his feeding. He could feel the life ebbing from her, the pulse beneath her skin growing weaker with every second. He released her wrists abruptly, his fangs retracting as he pulled away. A gasp escaped the girl's lips as she slumped against Rebekah, her breathing shallow but present.
Ivar leaned back on his hands, the exhilaration still coursing through him like a storm. His chest rose and fell steadily now, and a faint color returned to his pale complexion. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing the newfound strength. A faint smirk played on his lips, but his expression quickly turned serious as his gaze shifted to Rebekah.
She was watching him with an intensity that made him pause, her blue eyes glassy yet piercing. Relief softened her features, but there was an underlying tension in her shoulders, a hesitation in the way she released the girl's wrists and gently laid her down on the floor.
"You scared the hell out of me," she muttered, her voice low and raw with emotion. She brushed her hair out of her face with a trembling hand, her movements slower now, more deliberate.
Ivar opened his mouth to respond, but a sharp chime echoed in his head, interrupting his thoughts. His brows furrowed, and he instinctively straightened, his sharp green eyes darting around the room. The sound was unnatural, alien—a crisp ding that didn't belong in the dimly lit, tension-filled space.
Before he could question it, a translucent panel flickered into existence before his eyes, glowing faintly with an ethereal light. The words written on it were simple yet strange, sending a chill down his spine:
[Welcome to the Vampire System, Host.]
Ivar blinked, his expression hardening as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. He lifted a hand toward the panel, his movements tentative, as if unsure whether it was real or a figment of his imagination.
"What the hell…" he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse.
Rebekah frowned, tilting her head as she studied him. "Ivar? What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with concern. Her fingers hovered near his arm, hesitant to touch him, as though sensing the shift in his demeanor.
The others in the room stiffened at her question. Niklaus took a step forward, his sharp gaze narrowing on Ivar. "What's happening?"
"Enough with the questions, boy." Said Mikael as he looked at Niklaus before looking at Ivar with curiosity in his eyes, "what happened to your hair and eye." He asked curious with the sudden change of colors of his hair and eyes.