Lyra woke to the growling of bears as they padded through the palace, great white behemoths that barely acknowledged her existence. Pan was already awake, nestling at her breast as he often did, keeping himself close to her heart. She sat up, feeling her hips ache as she moved, a product of her time with Iorek the previous night.

She stroked Pan softly, feeling his soft fur beneath her fingertips before she rolled over, pulling the furs tighter against herself to shield against the bitter, impermeable cold that had taken a hold over the fortress during her sleep.

She had draped her thick coat over the bed to act as a second covering during the night, and she pulled it towards her, sitting up and feeling the chill air as it washed over her, a draft flowing into the room. Pan scurried up her arm to hide under her clothes, twining himself under her hood as she stood, pulling on the thick socks and thicker leather boots before she left the room. It was difficult to gauge what time it was, and a watch wouldn't have been much use here due to the vast night enveloping this part of the world.

She wandered the massive hallways, bowing her head as bears passed. One gave her a look of malice and bared its fangs, huffing as it moved past. She obviously believed it to be jealousy, which she smiled at, the thought of bears conjuring such extreme emotions for her being the lover of the greatest bear to ever live.

The hall smelled of raw meat, a cloying sensation in her nostrils as the aroma of butchered seal washed over her. Iorek was padding towards her, likely catching her scent as she left her room. They met, Lyra wrapping her arms around the neck of the Bear King, stroking his thick velvety fur, feeling the heat of his skin against her fingertips. She nuzzled against him, her face on his snout, imperceptibly dainty kisses planted on his wet black nose, which was pulsing, breathing her scent indulgently.

"Lyra." Iorek said, in a voice that could be happiness or could be disgust, as was the way with Panserbjorne. "How are you?"

She smiled at him. "Sore." She chuckled lightly, trying to sound less tired than she was.

His head bent low. "I apologise, Lyra. I had forgotten how small you were, how fragile."

"It's fine, I loved it. We're still here." Her eyes changed, from the soft, wondrous brown to a harder glare, passionate and fierce.

"Then I shall show you the rest of the castle, as it has been so long."

The tour continued today, with Iorek taking her to the edge of the castle, where she could look out into this small kingdom for the Panserbjorne, the icy island mass that was so different and isolated compared to anywhere else she had been, even quieter than the realm of the dead, bar the squealing howls of a gull wheeling high above them both.

Lyra could see the fire-hurlers, arranged in a line, pointing high in the air, ready in the way bears were always ready, patient and intended.

"This is the highest point of this place. Before your father's mission, there were spires of ice far taller than this, but they were reduced to nothing but puddles by warming."

Even in her coat and gloves and hat, even with Pan resting against her body, she was still cold, her teeth chattering as a wind blew over them.

Iorek took her inside, seeing how utterly frozen she was. He decided to take her down to the forges, where the precious sky-iron was moulded and formed into the soul of the bear, its armour. Each piece was made by the wearer, specifically tailored with designs and impurities and signatures to perfectly fit the bear.

Iorek walked down the massive steps, deep under the main fort. In the forge were several bears, all working on various metals, some making armour or tubes or shells for fire-hurlers. The heat was horrifically intense, making Lyra stop in her tracks as Iorek opened the thick metal door.

They all turned to him, bowing their heads in acknowledgement of their king. Some glared down their noses at Lyra, as if disgusted at the sight of a human.

Iorek strode fiercely into the forge, barking orders at the bears to leave them be. Some grunted with annoyance, but all bears left their work, dousing it in water buckets or letting it melt again over the constantly roaring fires.

Lyra stripped down to her undergarments, the inches of thick fur less useful here, heat from the mines filling the room and particles of soot hovering through the air, making her cough hard as she breathed in a cloud of dust.

Iorek was examining her body, checking for marks of pain after their last session. He analysed her and concluded she was fit enough for him to use her again, and his last glassy look into her beautiful brown eyes told him she was ready for him to use her.

"Remove your clothes." The Bear King ordered sternly.

He undid his armour, resting it on a wall as Lyra removed her undershirt and stripped, loving the feel of the blazing heat against her skin, radiating in and around her, the subtle tang of metal being caught by her nostrils every now and again. Pan was near her, supportive but a little annoyed, as had been his near-constant emotion since she had come here.

She was as bare as he was, in their purest forms. His tongue was the first thing that touched her, Iorek's head dropping low as he licked her bare pussy, his snout running up her body in tandem, the warm and cold sensations exciting her. Her hands were running over his fur, pushing to feel the skin beneath the thick white layers, where the heat radiated most, hotter than any fire. She kissed his snout again, then his lips. She lay on an empty table, which would easily be able to support them both, her legs wide and ready for him.

He bent his head again, hungrily lapping at her thighs and then moving up to her pussy, tasting her as his tongue slipped past her lips and ventured deeper. He was noisy as he tasted her, aroused by her unconscious movements, pleasure-forced gasps and abrupt motions, her hips bucking as he pressed his tongue on her clit, the hands feeling his head tightening their grip on his fur as she got closer. She pushed herself against him, her arousal heightened as he moved out of her, softly and quickly wrapping his massive pink tongue over her hood, the tiny movements of the muscle making her twitch and wrap her legs around his neck, lying against the wood as she was overwhelmed.

Lyra's voice was muffled by the choking heat, "Keep going, Iorek. I'm so close."

And that he did, lapping at her quickly to tip her over the edge. She weakened to him, almost crumpling against the table, gripping the sides as she climaxed, breathing deeply as her orgasm wore away.

He rose above her then, his warm breath heavy in her nostrils. His black eyes stared down into her brown ones, and she thought she saw the merest glimmer of emotion behind them as he pressed himself against her body. Her eyes rolled back as he slid himself inside her, making her purse her lips, a grimace forming in her breath that turned into a joyous gasp.

She wasn't used to him yet, but she felt like she was handling his power far better than last time, where she had to allow him to use her as he pleased, helpless against him. This was a better position for her to be in, where she could stroke and feel and grab, where the tension of her fingers against his fur would be enough for him to gauge how she was feeling, slowing down in response to her unconscious reaction. Iorek was huffing as he fucked her wetly, his thick knot slapping against her hips. This was the place he could give up being the king of the bears and the barren wasteland surrounding Svalbard, give up his responsibilities as he stared into the soft eyes of this girl, barely a woman, that loved him utterly.

She felt slavers of drool dribbling from him, dripping warmly onto Lyra's chest, before he dropped his head, his tongue running across her nipples, quickly and deftly finding the right moves to make her body freeze with pleasure. Her hands were on his head, pulling it up to hers so she could kiss his snout and breathe against his furs, inhaling his scent while his tongue was against her lips and forcing himself past them, tasting her mouth as she kissed him, her hands pulling him against her. Her hands clasped against his fur and flesh and strangled groans escaped from both of them as he came, pulsing inside her as he spent himself. Her body ached with want, trying to keep him in her as her legs dripped with his seed.

But Iorek was not easy to command, and he slid out of her, Lyra in awe of the thick greyish bone that had used her so well, slick with her juices. She dropped to the floor, eyes fixed on his cock, overtaken by her lust. She crawled beneath him, her tongue feeling electric as she pushed her lips around his head, feeling a low growl of pleasure rumble through him, nursing the last of his bitter seed out of him as her thighs dripped with the rest. She suckled at him until his cock retreated, overwhelmed and overcome by the sensations. Lyra moved out from beneath her king, proffering herself to the king again, who grunted dismissively.

Lyra's hands were on her clit and briefly slipping inside herself, using the arousal to push herself to another orgasm as the bear watched with glassy eyes, examining her pleasure.

"Oh, Iorek!" His name was a whisper as she came again, a shakingly forced pleasure that made her body clench against itself. He tilted his head slightly, unable to stop a single strand of drool falling from the corner of his lip. He briefly met her pussy, kissing it with his snout and making her inhale, her body still excessively sensitive.

"Get changed and you will ride me."

"Ride you? But I've already-"

"Ride my back, Lyra. The bears deserve to know about our relationship. Many have assumed, and have counselled me on my decision to have you here, and on having you."

Lyra stood, barely taller than him, but gorgeous and sticky and used, smelling of heat and smelling of him.

"Do not clean yourself," Iorek commanded. Lyra curtseyed and obeyed, pulling the furs over her thighs, coated in their pleasure. Her coat was wet with her sweat, Lyra feeling the tiring heat taking its toll on her body. She jumped onto his neck and slid over him, finding that sweet spot to hold on to as he clambered back to the throne room.

Iorek barked and two bears opened the doors for him, the stench of meat having faded and now replaced by the smell of burned coal. They were at the edge of the throne, where Iorek tipped Lyra off his back and went to sit. He beckoned her beside her, and she did so, sitting atop him, with Pan on her lap, a strange triumvirate.

She lay against him, feeling the beautiful comfort of his hot flesh against her cheek, as Pan slipped beneath her clothes, as intimate as the bear as he sat against her breasts, warming himself in the same way Lyra did.

She wished to stay here forever, the plaything of the great Bear King, a Queen by any other name.