by GR Griffin
For so long had that pain of hers persisted, whole weeks going by, the Valkyrie lost to it. Silmeria’s life had been in a standstill, the woman unable to do much, barely able to live, but also unwilling to simply lay down and die. It had taken time, lots and lots of it sacrificed for little real progress. It was a slow going road to recovery, but little by little, that pain that Silmeria still suffered with, began to get somewhat better. Life became that much closer to tolerable, and as the days had passed, Silmeria had finally been well enough so that a decision could be made at long last. It had been with the understanding that though Silmeria would never make a full and complete recovery, there had still been one last service that she was honor bound to give to her liege. Never again would Silmeria fight for Odin and his kingdom, never again would she physically see to the safeguarding of the nine realms. But there was another way, one last duty that Silmeria was still capable of performing, her body still viable as being something other than a Valkyrie.
The details of Odin’s decree were worked on and ironed out, Silmeria having learned that she was to be given away to some man. But not just ANY man, but a king in his own right, Rufus of Alfeim, the lord who ruled over all of the fae and that of the elves. That she would be given up as part of an agreement to maintain a truce between the two kingdoms wasn’t that surprising a decision. It was absolute truth that Valkyrie Goddesses were a high quality of women, who made for highly sought after brides. For their grace and their beauty, and for the abilities that a child of the Valkryies would inherit.
It was just one more form of duty for the Valkryies, the unenviable fate of those who did not die in battle. Silmeria had always known that the chance had existed that this fate would one day befall her. But Silmeria had thought, hoped, it would be far, far in her future.
She wouldn’t fight and rail against such a future now becoming her reality. She had understood, even accepted that this was fate. She might have even taken comfort from the fact that her marriage wouldn’t be to just anyone. That that union would help reforge an alliance, strengthen the truce between the two kingdoms. That tension that had started to poison relations between Asgard and Alfeim had been in need of an offering, a SACRIFICE to appease it.
Silmeria would be that sacrifice, her marriage to Alfeim’s King, meant to to make all the difference. In both sustaining a lasting peace between the two kingdoms, and in keeping them united against the ever encroaching threat of the Undead. It might have even have made all the difference in turning the tide of war to the two realm’s favor. The one thing in common that they, that ALL of the nine realms shared, was that of the threat of Lord Brahms and his people. His undead was a legion unto itself, the creatures hated and reviled, and persecuted by all.
Such was the open animosity and hatred towards the undead, that Brahms’ kind was welcomed nowhere. Yet such was their numbers, that never had a definitive blow been struck against them. They were like insects, no worse than, for they not only continued to survive, they did so by thriving off of blood they they murdered, thieved and manipulated for.
The undead were as different from the Asgardians as night was from day. Those stark contrasts were what defined the right from the wrong. Most didn’t question it, most didn’t wonder at why the undead were like that. And once Silmeria had been just another one of the unquestioning throngs. She STILL sort of was, although something had been changing inside of her for a long while now. The young woman had always felt herself to be a little different. That feeling was just strong enough that Silmeria had never truly fit. Not as a Valkyrie warrior, and not as a Goddess. That lack of belonging, that feeling that persisted, was it that what had left her so accepting? Of a fate that would have had most Valkyries running, their openly proud and defiant natures keeping them from going meekly off to their marriage beds. Because even at their most crippled, the Valkyries often resented being handed off like mere cattle.
But not Silmeria. There had been a calmness to her, an acceptance that had nothing to do with submission, the Valkyrie curious, a sense of anticipation suffusing her. She might have had even been looking forward to this next stage of her life. This change that would be so different, and so new. Not even the pain that had colored her every step and movement could get Silmeria to think otherwise. Because there was an opportunity for something more, a chance for her to find happiness. Even with the pain, that crippling, debilitating sensation having had plenty of time to have flared up by now. And yet, there was NONE of it.
She was puzzled by the complete lack of it, the pain not so much dulled as entirely GONE. It should have been impossible, and yet without it, there was nothing holding her back. Not even her amazement, Silmeria’s thoughts having then scattered at the soft thump of sound that was someone’s boot stepping down on stone.
She didn’t immediately question how the past and it’s memories could snap free of that leash that they had put on her. She was able to shake free of even those last lingering thoughts, her gaze focusing outwards to watch and see the figure that was approaching her.
That man instantly became the only thing that Silmeria was aware of, the details of his appearance commanding her focus. Large in stature, his was an imposing figure, with a body that was as tall as Lord Odin if not more so. It was such an impressive height, this man a being who was meant to dwarf all others around him, and Silmeria would not be the exception. Positively dainty in appearance, Silmeria could see how the man would tower over her in ALL circumstances.
He was big in all sense of the word, with thick muscular arms and a broad chest. A sleeveless green vest stretched tight over his torso, the revealing garment tailor made from the looks of it, yet still straining to cover even half of that amount of muscle and skin. That left a tantalizing canvas of flesh on display, Silmeria’s eyes drawn to all of that flawless, dark skin. That flesh color was one that complimented well with his dark hair, a brown that sometimes looked black In the dim lighting of the room. There was thick volume to it, and plenty of length gathered together to form one hell of mane. It had been spiked in places, seeming to obey it's own laws of gravity in how it stayed up and moved about on it’s own.
Even without that magnificent head of hair, this man would never have been able to pass himself off as anything as mundane as a mortal. The dark colored skin would have thrown her, had Silmeria not been aware of his true nature already, his kind of people a pale skinned lot that had never known the kiss of the sun’s ray. His however was a marvel, that dark dusky color that marked him as something different, yet Silmeria wasn’t fooled for one second. Not when the crimson red of his eyes were focused on her, that dark blood color seeming to positively smolder with all of his lusts and his desires.
Focused on him like he was on her, Silmeria had reacted long before that smile of his revealed a hint of lengthening fang. Her mind kicked in a name, but it was instinct that took over, Silmeria reacting to the perceived threat of just who and what she now faced.
Brahms.
It was him, the vampire king in the flesh. The Lord Ruler of all the Undead, The Bringer of Nightmares, The Dealer of Death. He was also the very fiend that had been obsessed with getting near to her for far longer than Silmeria actually cared to remember.
In the seconds that it took for her to go from assessing his looks, to recognizing him as a very real threat, Silmeria had charged forward, the woman every inch of a Valkyrie that had spied her unnatural enemy. This went beyond the hatred of the races, Silmeria’s stomach cramping with unease. There was the unpleasant feel of her skin actually crawling, Silmeria recalling the tireless way that Brahms had pursued her. It was a pursuit that had cost her nearly everything, his undead minions responsible for all of her crippling and career ending injuries.
She neither had the time nor the desire to remember that particular incident, Silmeria instead lurching upright and forward. The thin sheet that had been covering her slipped off, Silmeria’s legs having to kick free of it's silk like material. The bed beneath her feet was
soft but springy, lending a real bounce to her steps, and more importantly giving Silmeria a boost to her height when she stood. She would take and use any and all advantage, Silmeria effortlessly running atop the bouncy mattress. The surprise was on his face, her momentum such that Silmeria easily launched herself AT the vampire king. She wasn’t capable of actually flying, but that leap was the next best thing. Airborne and hurtling towards him, it was Brahms who reached up and caught at her with his big hands. She ignored the feel of those hands closing about her waist, Silmeria too busy bringing up hers to do similar around his neck. But even that part of him was thick like the rest of him, to the point that Silmeria couldn’t reach enough around to truly do a strangle hold on the vampire. She still made a valiant effort all the same, her anger, animosity and frustrations all flaring. Her arms tensed as a result of the attempt, her scrambling, struggling fingers digging into his flesh as the woman attempt to find the purchase needed to rip out his throat. Silmeria glared into Brahm’s face as she did this, the inside of her thighs coming to cradle on either side of his waist.
She was a crimson reflection in the depths of the vampire’s eyes, Silmeria absentmindedly noticing that her blond hair looked especially wild and all askew. It lent a presence to her, made Silmeria look like she was some vengeful creature, the woman all feral and full of animosity.
The open desire and the naked lust of the vampire’s earlier expression had given way to one of amazement. He had seemed shocked as a result of her attack, but Silmeria didn't try to analyze the reason why. She did note however that he wasn't trying to throw her off of him, actually tightening his hands' grip upon her waist instead. She didn’t like that, didn't like him touching her. Not when it hit too close to home, reminding Silmeria of another time, a moment that was some memory in her near past. That time too he had clutched at her body, his hands upon her waist as the vampire had lowered his face towards hers.
She had to blink and shake her head in an effort to dispel the unwanted memory. Silmeria knew that she couldn't afford to be distracted. Not by her thoughts, and not by the fact that Brahms’ lips were moving, his fangs flashing as that infernal fiend tried to speak. She barely registered his words, let alone understood them. But Silmeria could hazard a guess, certain that the vampire was commanding her to stop, and telling her that such attacks were useless against him. But the Valkyrie already knew that much, choosing instead to continue to vent her rage upon him. Because it felt GOOD, that anger that Silmeria had keeping her from realizing so many things, the pain, the fear, and the potential that she had to be helpless around him.
His crimson eyes then blazed even hotter, that red color an expression of both his thoughts and his feelings. He smoldered with an unholy desire, but more than that, there was the exasperation that came with the realization that talking was not going to do him any good. It was then that his hands shifted their grip about her slim waist, that impressive strength of his called into play to effortlessly haul Silmeria off of him. Her dragging nails gouged open flesh, his throat bleeding whole rivulets of the dark spurting liquid.
She didn’t seem to notice, Silmeria too focused on fighting. An incoherent hiss would issue out of her, Simeria finding that Brahms had bodily thrown her. The Valkyrie hit hard against a wall, but even that did not stun her, Silmeria already bounding forward, her fingers with their sharp nails reaching for the vampire again.
Slashing without even thinking about the absurdity of such an attack, Silmeria sliced her nails through now empty air. That fiend had teleported! It left her snarling, Silmeria pivoting on her heel as she turned about in an attempt to find her target. He was there by the bed again, the opposite side now, and wearing the weirdest expression that the Valkyrie had ever seen. On him, and on anyone, his crimson eyes almost astonished. She didn’t take the time to wonder why, her body coiled with her instinctive need to attack.
For one brief second, they locked eyes together, the two exchanging a stare. That crimson glare left Silmeria rooted in place, the woman cautious about approaching a vampire so thoroughly alert to her. It was only when Brahms suddenly grimaced, a hand going to his damaged throat, that Silmeria saw an opening. He seemed surprised and in pain at what his fingers had felt, the vampire actually making the mistake of looking down at his hand for one moment.
Distracted by the blood that now was on his fingers, Brahms almost hadn’t seen Silmeria in time. By all rights he should have died, the Valkyrie’s victory something that should have been absolute. And it would have been if Silmeria’s opponent had been anyone else save the Lord of the Undead. Her bare hands alone weren’t enough, no matter how great her desire was to beat the vampire to death with them. She had barely managed a fist, Brahms snagging hold of Silmeria by her arms. To be so thwarted in her desires, to find herself restrained by the vampire? It left Silmeria absolutely infuriated, a feral growl erupting from inside her.
Half trapped and made completely wild, Silmeria didn’t let the situation stop her. The fight within her flared even stronger, the woman lashing out with her both of legs, her right knee aimed at one weak point in particular. But that attack didn't land, Silmeria finding instead she had been thrown again. This time down onto the bed’s mattress, her body bouncing hard in place against the soft, springy surface. The force of it knocked the wind out of her, Silmeria left stunned. No thoughts left in her head, only the rage fueled emotions, it was instinct that would have guided her, Silmeria ready to spring up in an attempt to continue her attacks against Brahms.
She never got the chance, the vampire king at last at the end of his patience. With that unnatural speed that all of the vampires possessed, the undisputed King of the Undead lunged forward, his full weight brought against her. Silmeria found herself pinned in place with the vampire king on top of her, his weight and his body pressing her down into the mattress. Straddled by him, and listening to his breath rasping out of him in harsh exaggerated pants, Silmeria should have been panicked. Any other women in her place would have, when faced with being held down by a man who had lusted so strongly, that in order to possess hold of her, he could and had done just about everything!
A memory then tried to spike, a far different kind of battlefield called to mind. The memory of that place fed into her anger, Silmeria remembering how she was first and foremost a Valkyrie, a supereme being that was both a warrior goddess and unflinchingly fierce battle maiden. Panic of any kind was that of an undignified weakness, one that had no place or fit in a Valkyrie’s heart. No room for it then, and certainly no room for it now, Silmeria refusing to let if overtake her. She fought it, and she fought Brahms, Silmeria thrashing about with her body, struggling to get her legs free of him. An arm raised, and an open handed slap went across the vampire’s face. Such was the force of Silmeria’s blow, that Brahms head actually turned to the side as a result.
For one second there was nothing more Nothing save for the setting of Brahms’ jaw, the visible clenching of his lip, teeth tightly ground together in an effort to suppress HIS growl. Her name still grated out of him, Brahms all but snarling the word. “Silmeria!”
That ended the frozen moment, Silmeria resuming her vigorous struggles. “Get off of me, you fiend!" She had then hissed back, her hand raising to slap the vampire across his face a second time. Her wrist was then caught by Brahms, his cruel fingers harsh about the bone, the vampire forceful in his efforts to keep any further strikes from being thrown. Silmeria’s fury knew no bounds at this, her one fist caught, but not the other.
“Abomination!" She added action to the insult, trying to hit him with her other hand. That too was caught in just as brutal a grip, the vampire wearing what might have been a merciless smirk as he had then pressed her back against the mattress. Caught in that unrelenting grip, the vampire stretched the Valkryie’s arms up above her head. Silmeria was effectively pinned and made to feel helpless, the placement of her arms one that screamed of forced submission. But her panic still didn’t come, Silmeria refusing to allow it to gi
ve birth in her heart. Not even as she arched and bucked against his body, her every struggle beneath only proving a lesson in futility. She wasn’t going to get free, not on her own, and Silmeria let out a scream of impotent fury.
Thrashing about even more, nothing could get through to her. Nothing save the sudden quickening of his breath, Silmeria having then noticed the blatant interest that was showing in his eyes. She quickly realized that the bastard was getting off on her struggles, and that almost caused her to go still, Silmeria burning with the desire to take that particular satisfaction away from Brahms.
She didn’t though. Instead she kept right on fighting, Silmeria attempting to buck him off of her body with her violent movements. It was a lot like hitting a brick wall, that stone like mass completely immovable. It was an unfortunate but true fact that it would take a far greater strength than hers to knock Brahms from his seat. That made Silmeria growl in mounting fury, the woman unable to relax. The first real trickle of a very fear gnawed it’s way into her thoughts. What would Brahms do to her, now that he had the Valkyrie pinned to the bed beneath him?
For the moment though, Brahms was apparently content to only just look at her. But even that was too much, that smoldering stare of his near unbearable. That crimson gaze made Silmeria feel unclean, that sharp focus so completely dark, devouring her every movement, every reaction, so that the vampire would miss nothing about her. Such an intent, unfathomable expression left Silmeria unable to read it. It built her unease, that unclean feeling mounting, the woman uncertain of just where the vampire’s thoughts lay. His were a veritable mystery to her, and the young Valkyrie would hardly be appeased to know that hers thoughts were as equally unreadable to him.
