by GR Griffin
"You are Valkyrie no more." Brahms reminded her. "You are a vampire, and first and foremost a woman. I think it will not be so difficult to awaken the heart with which you buried under your warrior's armor."
"You...you..." She was near speechless with anger, annoyed at his unshakable confidence. "Arrogant, overbearing…"
"You must be hungry." Brahms interrupted smoothly. His fingers went to his neck, clawing over one of the scratches to cause the worst of it's bleeding. "Come. It would give me immense satisfaction to see to this need of yours."
She seethed with her anger, the rage upon her as Silmeria then turned her back on him. It was brave and it was bold, that refusal of hers a clear cut message that was apparent by her actions. "I will not feed." Silmeria announced. "Never will I do such a distasteful act."
"You didn't find it so distasteful mere minutes ago." Brahms reminded her, and she flushed then with embarrassment. "You were seconds away from taking my neck."
"That would have been a mistake." Silmeria hissed. "I was confused and disoriented, half out of my mind. It won't be repeated."
"You have not yet known true hunger." Brahms stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back as he then grabbed at her arms to hold and keep her in place. "But mark my words Silmeria. Someday soon you will. And when that happens, the call of blood will be undeniable, even to you."
"I will truly be damned then." She was sad then, not even attempting to struggle against his imprisoning hold.
"Not damned. But blessed. It will be the moment that your new life has truly begun…"
She said nothing to that, Silmeria keeping her own private council with her own thoughts. The former Valkyrie knew that her sisters would be coming for her. She also knew that they wouldn't be able to revert the transformation that had been forced onto her. Her life was truly lost, forfeited the moment Brahms had forced his blood down her throat. But there was still a chance for her soul's salvation. If she could only hold out long enough for Lenneth and Hrist to come, to end her life before she fed off of some innocent, she would be freed from this torment. She just had to keep from feeding, no matter how hungry she got, or how long it would take for her sisters to come to her rescue.
But the strong smell of Brahms' blood perfumed the air around her, her nostrils flaring to take in that appetizing scent. Silmeria wondered if salvation wasn't already denied to her. When already the blood held such a temptation to her, Silmeria wondering just how much worse could it get as the nights each passed. She just didn’t know, Silmeria shivering as the woman acknowledged to herself that she would have to call upon all of her inner reserves of strength. Maybe then and only then would she stand a chance at resisting the vampire Brahms, and the blood that he tempted her with.
Chapter 6: Six
There was no peace in her heart, no peace and no quiet for her soul, Lenneth falling into Odin’s enchanted slumber, and being plagued by the uncertain. By the doubts and the fear, Lenneth’s mind overtaken with the thoughts that focused near unwavering on that of her younger sister, Silmeria.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There wasn’t supposed to be anything felt while under the Valkyrie’s forced slumber. By all rights, Lenneth should have been at ease, neither dreams, nightmares, nor memories, able to disturb her. Her mind should have been blessedly empty, Odin’s enchantment working it’s magic to strip Lenneth of her defiance, her strength, and her free will. In many a way she should have been reborn anew, a total clean slate for the love that would be forced upon Lenneth at her awakening.
None of that had happened, not even the small mercy that should have freed the Valkyrie maiden from her thoughts. The recollection that she still had, Lenneth not so much dreaming as reliving the events that had led up to this punishment a thousand times over. She would see the faces of the slaughtered, that of the Valkyries and the chosen few einherjar who had been entrusted to her command. She’d remember Gwendolyn and Jacqueline’s screams, and the sound of flesh tearing, the greedy hungry gulps of many a throat working, and the smacking of lips against too wet skin.
Most of all, it was the thought of Silmeria, thoughts of the woman’s fate that had been a result of Lenneth’s spectacular failure. Lenneth was haunted by the idea of that, by the knowledge of just what her mistakes had led Silmeria into becoming. She was tormented, Lenneth knowing that she should have been faster and stronger, SMARTER somehow. Her sister had paid the price for Lenneth’s short comings in that moment, Silmeria taken.
Sometimes the Valkyrie saw Silmeria as she had once been. The strong and the confidant Goddess, the able bodied and capable warrior. Dressed in full Valkyrie regalia, Silmeria was often seated at the head of an army. Such a striking image of what had once been, Lenneth still couldn’t keep the memories from then turning dark, from showing her sister out on the battle field. This vision of Silmeria was not as Lenneth had known her, the Valkyrie’s indigo armor gone. Dressed in dark shrouds of crimson, Silmeria’s deathly pale skin had only stood out starkerr against the blood colored rags. And then it would hit her, Lenneth realizing that the shredded gown had once been colored a snow white, the blood of Silmeria’s many victims having soaked into and changed the very nature of the fabric.
Lenneth’s mind had tried to deny this sight, tried to make up some feeble excuse as to what she was seeing. No blade and no bow besides her, Silmeria herself had become a grim parody of the undead, her teeth and those ungodly claws the weapon of choice that had attacked and killed so many. Her very lips stained a vivid red from the innocents she had slaughtered and fed upon, Silmeria’s eyes had flashed a crimson accusation at her sister.
Holy sword then appearing in her hand, Lenneth had STILL hesitated to strike down her sister. She had looked at the soulless monster that Silmeria had become, the undead nightmare that would be the death of countless others, and she could not do it. Lenneth couldn’t bring herself to put an end to the creature who had once been her sister. That completed Lenneth’s failure, Silmeria and the nine realms’ many inhabitants doomed to die at the former Valkyrie’s hands.
It was her fears manifested to extremes, Lenneth frightened by both the reality and the what ifs that continued to plague her. Maybe it would always torment her. Maybe Lenneth would always be haunted not just by her failures, but by the fact she hadn’t been able to personally put Silmeria to the sword. She hadn’t even been given the chance, Odin stripping the right to that duty from her. Just as he had stripped everything else from Lenneth, the one time Valkyrie now made human and cursed to know the love of the man who would one day awaken her.
Something very much like tears had then pricked at her eyes, Lenneth feeling overwhelmed by the situation. By the helplessness of her fate, and by the sight of Silmeria at her absolute worst. Lenneth’s soul actually cried out in pain, the Valkyrie maiden herself taking a step towards her sister. “I am sorry!” Lenneth would say, openly weeping. Was she desperate for an absolution? For a forgiveness that Lenneth would never dare give to herself? “I couldn’t save you.” Lenneth would finally acknowledge, the sword falling free of fingers that had now gone limp.
A wail of agony like Lenenth had never thought to ever hear had then escaped her, the woman falling to her knees. Her eternal torment, that agony, had increased by droves, Lenneth now knowing the ultimate in despair at Silmeria’s agreeing nod. Such was the effect on her mind, that Lenneth would often forget this was nothing more than a dream. A nightmare that was grounded in the basis of truth. Gripped by this hellish reality, Lenneth was caught in an endless loop, of agony and of regret, of her failure and of her heartache.
Her mind tortured her with the countless what ifs, Lenneth was frozen and helpless, unable to do much of anything save scream. She’d watch as Silmeria attacked innocents, as the humans fell victim to her claws and to her teeth. Other times the nightmare would take them back to the Plains of Idavoll, where Brahms was out and about, fighting alongside his new bride. Together the pair would attack Silmeria’s one time pe
ople, ripping apart Valkyrie and einherjar alike. Silmeria would feed on the very Asgardians who had once been her allies, Such things would be repeated, Lenneth bearing witness to an unending slaughter that spread throughout the nine realms. Until finally with an unholy fury burning in those crimson eyes, Silmeria had then turned on her own sister.
Lenneth had screamed out in pain then, the agitated state of her mind, the agony of Silmeria’s imagined future, driving the Valkyrie to cry out for real. Lenneth was trapped in a realm of unending nightmares and torment, completely unable to fight free. Not on her own. Not without the kiss of her soon to be husband. That man should have spurred even more nightmares to life, Lenneth not wanting to lose herself to him. To the kiss that would strip away her very identity, to the love that would remake her into ANY man’s ideal wife.
No idea of the who or of what kind of man Odin would deem suitable for his failure of a Valkyrie, Lenneth had a very real reason to be afraid for herself. That man could be cruel, and he could be abusive, ready to hurt her in so many ways. He could demean and debase her, Odin’s love enchantment such that Lenneth would gladly submit and surrender to just about anything. Her mind wouldn’t even know enough to protest, to recognize the right and the wrong of it.
Despite all this, Lenneth could only stay caught in the grip of fear for her sister. For Silmeria’s soul. Those few conscious times when Lenneth realized that she was dreaming, would have the Valkyrie maiden praying for her sister Hrist’s success. For the dark haired Valkyrie to not only kill Silmeria, but to do it quickly enough to save the young woman’s very soul.
Time against them all, Lenneth’s sleep was not anywhere peaceful to those that watched over her. Locked in that nightmare, screaming inside of her own mind, sometimes Lenneth would cry out for real. Other times silent tears would fall from beneath her closed eyes, her cheek’s skin slick and flushed with the Valkyire’s unnerving upset.
The enchanted sleep was meant to be peaceful. It was anything but for Lenneth, the woman exhausted by her dreams. With the agony of a countless millennia lived out in her nightmares, Lenneth had not a single bit of idea as to what was actually going on around her. She was simply unaware of what if anything was happening in the world that existed outside of her tortured mind. Asleep for it, Lenneth had no way of knowing that time itself was passing, many days upon days marking her body’s travel. That untold amount was spread out over vast distances, the journey to Lenenth’s new home a long one.
Just as she had no awareness of time and distance, the physical sensations of the journey were lost to her as well. Lenneth had felt not a thing, nothing from the many bumps of an unpaved road jarring against the carriage’s wheels, or to the hands that touched upon her in concern. She felt not the washcloth that touched upon her skin, or how her armor had been stolen away. She felt not even the difference in fabrics, the clothing upon her, the cushions beneath her. Frozen in that enchanted slumber, Lenneth did not even feel the physical needs of her body, the magic such that the woman was in a state of total hibernation.
There had been no way to fight this, no way to keep this unnatural slumber from taking her over. Lenneth had been damned to it the moment that Odin’s potion had touched on her tongue, the sleep overtaking her just as a scream had sounded. The voice had been that of her sister, Hrist, the woman angry, maybe even frightened. Lenneth would never know just who that shout had truly been for, the Valkyrie falling, already asleep long before her body hit upon the floor.
Once in the eternity that was her suffering, Lenneth would have a real moment. A thought where she didn’t think about her failures, that she didn’t worry for her sister, Silmeria. Those brief bits of time never lasted long enough, Lenneth left to wonder if she would ever awaken from her enchantment. Paranoia sometimes crept in with such a thought, Lenneth fearing that THIS was the true punishment. The torture of not knowing, of never learning of just how Silmereia’s fate had played out. Maybe this sleep would be upon her for forever, forcing Lenneth to endlessly relive all of her failures and her fears.
Awake or asleep, which would be better? Which would be worst? Was the agony of her mind truly fitting punishment enough? More so than humiliation of being tied in love to some random stranger? To be his property, made devoted and loyal, her affection and her obedience stolen rather than earned? Would she have found ANY man worthy of her heart? Neither fate was palpable, not as a punishment and not as a duty.
Wishing that she had fought both Brahms AND Odin harder, the helpless feeling Valkyrie almost wished she HAD died. Better Odin’s potion be poison than this hell, this sleep AND the reality that it’s magic would make her a slave of. This time when Lenneth cried, it was tears for herself, the liquid born of her frustration over the hopelessness of those fates.
The sadness on her face, a sob caught in her throat, Lenneth did not even register when a strong pair of arms lifted her into their embrace. The enchanted sleep had left her body absolutely pliant, Lenneth easily cradled against a chest. She was asleep for even this, someone carrying the woman into her new home. It wouldn’t be that long after, that her enchantment was then broken, Lenneth finally starting to stir. It wasn’t an immediate awakening, no sharp and no sudden a gasp to herald it. Even the dark horrors of her mind tried to still linger, that unholy vision of Silmeria the last and the strongest to fall to the dawning awareness of her surroundings.
As Silmeria faded away, the sounds and the smells, and even the physical sensations all began to filter in. The sounds were among the first wave of outside stimulation, a quiet kind of murmur that was nothing like what the Valkyrie had been used to hearing. It was different from the noise that had always inhabited around the castle, Valhalla, the battlefield and it’s distant roar, that of the angry and the dying screams and the sounds of metal clanging, having permeated near permanent across the vast expanse that was the Plains of Idavoll. It was war that she was used to, the fighting, the sights of it, the smells, and especially the sounds. Anything else was foreign and unwelcome, Lenneth confused by this odd kind of silence. So quiet was this place that Lenneth could actually hear the sound of a songbird’s chirping.
She processed the information that came with the sound, Lenneth understanding it had to be daylight for this species of bird to be up and about. However strangeness abounded with that bird’s presence, Lenneth wondering why she did not hear any other birds chirping. It couldn’t be the fault of the voices, those soft and occasional murmurs of people that passed by so near to her. Most of their voices were too soft and too muffled, Lenneth unable to make out clearly any of the words. Hushed though they were, there was no disguising the sound of a woman’s giggle.
Lenneth couldn’t help herself, she frowned, so surprised and taken aback by that giggle. Laughter of any kind was such a strange, foreign sound to Lenneth, the unending war that had plagued the heavens leaving little to smile about. To the Gods and the Goddesses, to the einherjar, and especially to the Valkyries. Always so serious and intent on their duties, Lenneth could not remember a time when she and her sisters had had a real reason to laugh. Especially not so happily, with such joy infusing the voice and the heart.
Lenneth might have tried to lose herself to a memory of just exactly when she had heard either one of her sisters’ last laugh, if not for the feel of something—someone TOUCHING her. In an overly familiar manner that was absolutely foreign to the Valkyrie, with hands that were not like any she had ever felt. Softer somehow, and lacking the callouses that came with the handling of a weapon, these hands spoke of the life of privilege that this person had led. It was more than that. This person, whoever HE was, had never known anything of hardship or that of traditional work. Luxury was the life that these hands were used to, everything from their home’s surrounding, to whatever it was that they actually did.
With a frown of disapproval, Lenneth tried to stir awake enough to open her eyes. They were still too, too heavy, and the rest of her wasn’t faring much better. Her limbs didn’t want to move,
a weight upon them that helped to keep her down. The soft mattress at her back, the plump pillow beneath her head, both worked to seduce her back into sleep. It was the hands that kept her grounded, that kept Lenneth from slipping back into the enchanted slumber. It was HIS fingers that shockingly gripped firm hold of the bare part of one of her arms.
She wasn’t that used to being touched, especially by a man. To feel him so near to her, his hand on her exposed skin? It wasn’t just shocking, it was alarming. Her apprehension made her stir, Lenneth struggling the rest of the way awake. Even as her eyelids quivered, even as she fought to draw in a breath, Lenneth became aware of more and more things in regard to the man. Such as the fact that it was HIS warmth on her, a firm, insistent pressure placed against her lips. That firm feel had her gasping, Lenneth unprepared for her first kiss. Or for the sensations that followed, the tongue that not only licked over her lips but past them, the man taking from Lenneth a deeply thorough taste.
His lips remained a constant on hers, his eager mouth an unyielding, physical manifestation of his desires. She felt every tremor, tasted the very excitement from him. Smelt it, that faint bit of spice, that foreign undercurrent of a man. Clean smelling, but holding a whisper of something, something beyond his choice of soap. In many ways it reminded her of the God’s use of ether, but Lenneth couldn’t place WHY.
Confused by it, by him, Lenneth’s alarm only ratcheted skywards, finding there was a hand creeping in between her and the mattress. Fingers touched at the small of her back, Lenneth reacting. Arching up to get away from them, her body only ended up pressed against his. She might have almost panicked then, Lenneth realizing that the man was somehow on top of her. Such a delicate position was far too intimate to be allowed, Lenneth finding the strength at last to lift up her arms.
