Ivar stays quiet as she talks, listening as most people do not, focusing on what is being said, rather than thinking of other things or deciding what they're going to say next. The fire in his eyes is being stoked back up again. She'd rose from ashes and become the woman before him, much as he'd clawed and fought back against the world until he'd made his own place in it.

At the end, there's a low chuckle out of Ivar. "You're a tough one, Unburnt Queen." Ivar was not one who idly handed out compliments. Vikings respect might, power, and unbending courage, things that would give them a place in their war hall of an afterlife. Plus, having a dragon didn't hurt. That was just cool.

He sits up straighter, wincing hard as he bends his legs to get them in a more comfortable position. Though Ivar's crippled, he's not paralyzed, something that he thinks about when he supposed things could get no worse for him. "My father told me that I don't think like other men. It's a great asset to my people, for they all only focus on what is right in front of them, battles and land and treasures, things that they can hold in their hands. I'm the one to see ahead, to know other's minds, and see what might be. He told me I was the most important of all his sons to the future of the Norse."

He reaches out a hand towards Viserion, though he stops a few inches away. He's definitely a different looking sort of dragon than Toothless. "Does he bite?"