by GR Griffin
It was a trouble he did not need, but one he had all the same. Brahms had been fortunate that so far it had not escalated beyond complaints, but knew the status quo could not be maintained forever. He'd have to do more to retain his crown, in addition to fighting the war against Odin. The war for the vampire's very survival. There was too much at stake, too much to risk. Now was not the time to deal with his bride, and yet fate had left him no other choice. Brahms had had to capture her the minute the opportunity afforded it, even if it mean Silmeria would leave him distracted at the worse time possible.
"He's right about one thing." Vandimeer broke the silence Brahms had been maintaining. "Your enemies won't hesitate to use tonight against you."
"They'll have more than just tonight to complain about." Gideon said, drawing Vandimeer's attention to him. "The Valkyrie are coming."
Vandimeer's eyes widened. "Is that what you called Lord Brahms away to talk about?"
"Yes. The Valkyrie have appeared in Midgard. Far more than is required for a bridal escort. It is a hunting party, and there is little doubt what their quarry is this deep into Midgard." Gideon sighed. "A fight is coming....one that will take place on our very island."
"Can we not delay them somehow?" Vanidmeer wanted to know.
"We could try..." Gideon did a sidelong glance at Brahms. "But..."
"Let them come." Brahms grumbled. "They need to see what she has become, who she belongs to now. Or else they will never accept it. Never stop pestering us."
"You invite death to our island." Cautioned Vandimeer. "This will not make our people happy."
"Do you have so little faith in our people?" demanded Brahms. "In their ability to fight off the Valkyrie who come here?"
"No...I am sure most will handle the Valkyrie just fine." Vandimeer assured him. "They just won't be happy about having to fight. You know many of the vampires here are ones who have earned a break from fighting in the war."
"They grow soft the longer they sheathe their claws." Gideon sounded disgusted. "Perhaps if they were occupied with fighting, they wouldn't have time to plot against our King."
"Perhaps." Allowed Vandimeer. "The endlessness of eternity does breed for boredom, and the creativity needed to alleviate it..."
"Give some people too much time to think, and they will lead themselves to trouble." Countered Gideon.
"What happened in the ball room?" Brahms put an end to such talk, wanting, NEEDING to know exactly what had happened with Silmeria and the other vampires. "What caused my bride to lose control?" He hesitated, a spark of real fear in him. "It was not the need to feed that drove her to cause such a scene was it?"
"It was Surren." Vandimeer sighed. "She is as much at fault as Silmeria for what happened." Brahms thought it telling that Vanidmeer didn't try to alleviate blame from Silmeria entirely. "The two dislike each other immensely. They spent much of the time before the fight sniping insults at each other, at the vampires, even at the Valkyries." Vandimeer did not avoid Brahms' piercing gaze. "Your bride is finding it difficult what has happened to her, and makes no attempt to disguise her contempt for we vampires."
"It's something Surren and the others will play on." Gideon cautioned. "Especially if Silmeria is so quick to lose her temper."
"She is irritable from her self imposed starvation." Brahms reminded them. "Anyone can see she hasn't fed."
"That will not excuse her forever." Gideon told him. "Your people will demand why you haven't forced her to feed...that will work against you, the people fearing you will allow a revenant with Silmeria's surprising skill and powers to be created."
"That is not what I intend to do." Brahms protested with a grumble. "Silmeria WILL feed. One way or another." He just hoped it would be of her own choosing, and not a desperate last minute compulsion on his part.
"Surren was quick to further incite Silmeria's rage." Continued Vandimeer after a moment's pause. "It was as though she knew just how far to push her, making a low comment about Silmeria's sister. Even before that, Surren and Risana were talking, belittling your bride, and making bold statements about the dangers she poises to us all." Vandimeer lowered his eyes. "Surren's talk was near traitorous, the lady stopping just short of suggesting Silmeria be killed."
Brahms growled at that, his grip on Silmeria tightening in instinctive reaction. "She goes too far."
"Yes, she does." Agreed Gideon. "What else did she say?"
"She called into doubt Brahms' judgment, his ability to think because of Silmeria. She even made claims that the former Valkyrie had somehow bewitched our King. She stirred not only Silmeria's anger, but the paranoia of the crowd."
"Surren is being far too bold for my liking." Brahms grumbled.
"For mine as well." Gideon agreed. "The question is whether Surren is really just that stupid, or if she speaks with a purpose."
"You think she might be allied with those who would work against our King?" Vandimeer seemed shocked.
"It couldn't hurt to investigate her more closely." Retorted Gideon.
"Do it." Brahms commanded. "I need to know where her loyalty lays."
"It shall be done." Gideon bowed. "If I may make a suggestion?" Brahms nodded a yes. "Send the lady away from the castle. Some time on the front lines might give Surren time to repent what she has done. And even if she doesn't, she will be away from the castle, away from causing trouble with your bride."
"A sound idea." Brahms nodded in approval. They had been walking as they talked, heading to Brahms bedroom which served as a temporary prison for Silmeria. "I need you to get everyone prepared for the fight that is coming to the island. They need to know everyone will be expected to participate." He had already gone over much of his ideas and strategies with Gideon, the two planning much in the way of defense and offense.
He had also gotten confirmation that at least one of Silmeria's sisters was amidst the party of Valkyrie and einherjar. The black haired one, the one he knew only by her ruthless reputation. The Valkyrie Hrist was coming for her sister, coming to dispense death to her and anyone else who got in her way. Brahms would not allow her to succeed, even if he had to kill Hrist to stop her. But Brahms hoped he wouldn't have to go that far, if only to keep Silmeria from hating him further.
Vandimeer and Gideon bowed as Brahms approached the door that led into the bedroom. By the time he had it unlocked, the two men had already vanished, hurrying off to do Brahms' bidding. Brahms had things to do as well, his most important of all was seeing to the girl in his arms. He would carry Silmeria over to the bed, and tend to the worst of her wounds. She would remain asleep during all this, the compulsion he had used on her relaxing Silmeria into a deep sleep. The sleep was almost as important as feeding, helping to settle her emotions and her mind. In just a few short hours, Silmeria would be back to normal. Or as normal as she could be, given how hungry she would be.
Feeding would be the only thing to get her completely under control. Her mood would remain hostile otherwise, Silmeria angry and snapping at everything. Brahms didn't look forward to when she awakened, sure she would remember what she had done, and be mortified. That embarrassment would only make Silmeria defensive, the girl sure to blame Brahms for everything that happened.
Brahms sighed, as he tied a cloth bandage around her leg's middle. There would be a reckoning between them, Brahms ready to call upon his early anger in order to chastise Silmeria for her behavior inside the ball room. He understood now it wasn't entirely Silmeria's fault, but she had still done damning actions. And even pleasing ones, Brahms face growing warm as he remembered the way she had kissed and moved against him.
With a snort and a shake of his head, Brahms stood. He didn't even trust himself to touch Silmeria in the moment. Not with the memories of that wild vampiress who hadn't fought the attraction between them heavy in his thoughts. Instead he would walk away, leave the room and lock the door. He was back to shaking, the force of his stirred emotions powerful. There was only one way available to Brahms to calm down, a
nd he would take it now, heading off to the level of the castle where the humans who donated blood made their home.
Chapter 16: Sixteen
He never was able to catch up to Lenneth and her steed. Obsidian was simply too fast, holding boundless energy after months of being cooped up inside the stables. Every step seemed to increase the stallion's speed, Obsidian seeming to race the very wind itself. Lenneth had been a blue and black blur atop the horse's back, her hair streaming out behind her. She had shown not one ounce of fear, her voice crying out as she goaded the stallion on to even faster speeds.
Lezard had gamely tried to catch them, working his poor horse hard. But the dappled stallion had no fitting motivation, no reason to go as fast as Obsidian and Lenneth. It was content to trot along at a much more sedate pace, leaving Lezard to seethe in impatience. And fear, Lezard's breath catching when Obsidian had taken a high jump over a fence.
It was difficult to watch Lenneth ride. Lezard conceded it would have been difficult no matter the horse, but it was especially so, so long as she rode such a wild and dangerously unpredictable steed like Obsidian. And all because Lezard was all too aware that the Goddess no longer had the protection of her divinity. She was mortal now, and one wrong move on the horse's part, could either end Lenneth's life, or severely cripple her.
His heart was in his throat, Lezard fearing for her. He thought if they survived this ride, a stern talking to would be in order. Lezard wondered if he could even hope to get away with forbidding Lenneth from ever riding again. But he acknowledged the Valkyrie might be as wild and unpredictable as Obsidian, and just as uncontrollable. His hands clenched on the reins of his horse, the stallion whinnying a protest. Already he was tired of the chase, wanting to return to the stables.
Lezard smoothed a hand on the side of the stallions' neck, trying to offer him reassurance that the ride would soon be over with. But he had no way to communicate that desire to Lenneth, the former Goddess seeming content to ride away the morning. He wouldn't abandon her, no matter how far ahead she got, Lezard following in her dust trail.
He would ALWAYS follow her. No matter where the trail led. Lezard had known himself lost to the Valkyrie from the first instant he had seen her face. There was just something about her that had captivated him, striking a devastating blow to his heart. Lezard had meant it when he told Lenneth he wasn't a romantic. He didn't believe in love at first sight. And yet with Lenneth, it had been very much like love, Lezard wanting strongly from that instant on.
It was a want that led him to betray a great many people, most notably his own Goddess, the Queen Hel. He should be more frightened of what he was doing, but Lezard found the fear couldn't compare to the fear generated by Lenneth's near careless ride a top of Obsidian. And all because he was conscious that it was his fault that Lenneth was now vulnerable. His fault she could be injured, fall sick, or even die.
Lezard even knew that Lenneth could be tortured, by He's own hand if the Goddess was to discover his betrayal. That knowledge made him sick, Lezard striving to keep both Odin and Hel happy as he walked a fine line between them. Both were vengeful deities, though Odin liked to project an outward appearance of being a kind and favorable God to follow.
Certainly that deception had won Odin many followers. More than Hel could ever hope to gain on her own. Not that the Goddess of Nifleheim wasn't always keeping her eyes and ears open for the chance to steal worshippers' from Odin. She was succeeding too, with her seductions and promises, and even her killings. Those she couldn't manipulate in life, she easily took care of in death.
Lezard had not been lying when he had revealed to Odin the depths of Hel's depravity. How she was actively working to steal the warriors that should have ascended to the heavens. Her theft manifested in many forms, a plague here, a killing there. How many had died? How many deaths had occurred that were not noble enough for the souls to ascend to Asgard? He did not know the actual numbers, but Hel's armies were increasing by the day. Gaining her the warriors that should have become the Valkyrie's einherjar.
Odin was a fool. That was Lezard's private thought. By the God's own decree, he had barred many from the heavens. Death by sickness, by old age, by murder. All of it preventing a soul from attaining the warrior's paradise. Even those capable of fighting, if they died anywhere save for the midst of battle, they too were consigned to the underworld instead. It was a loophole Hel had found intriguing. A loophole she had capitalized on.
Odin was outraged by the knowledge. And yet knew not how to avert the catastrophe Hel was causing. Nifleheim's Goddess had been sly, beginning her theft slowly. But as time passed, the trickle of deaths began to flow faster, until a veritable flood of new souls arrived in the underworld. There would be a reckoning one day, either through Hel's design, or Odin's.
Asgard couldn't afford to be distracted by two wars. Hel might very well get the victory she so craved. It was up to Lezard to help Odin, to see that Asgard remained free of the Goddess' grasp. Lezard hoped he was up to the task, though right now he had his doubts. Just as he doubted his ability to win over Lenneth. Even with the love enchantment firmly in place, Lenneth was proving difficult.
Lezard sighed, wondering if he would have even had a chance without Odin's interference. Lenneth seemed so determined not to give any ground to him, fighting every gesture, every attempt he made to bring them closer together. The distance between them was huge, comparable to the distance between them now as they rode. They might never bridge the gap between them, Lenneth's heart might always remain out of reach of him.
He didn't know why that thought pained him. Why any of this should bother him. Lezard felt he should be satisfied with what he had, with the knowledge that once married, Lenneth wouldn't be able to deny him. At least where their bodies were concerned. But damn it, he wanted more. He wanted her to love him, wanted to savor the smiles she might give him. Wanted to share private moments of true laughter between them.
He stifled a curse then, Lezard thinking his mind must be truly addled then. Since when had he ever wanted such a connection with a woman? Never. But then never had Lezard encountered a woman quite like Lenneth. He was close to becoming besotted with her, might already be sick with wanting her. How much worse would this pain in his heart become as the days stretched onwards, his love/lust unrequited?
Just the fact that he could even think of the word love with a woman and not scoff in disgust was troubling. But he was already so close to falling into it, Lezard knowing to love Lenneth would be easy. She was as he had said. Beautiful, intelligent, talented. Even the way she had fought on the plains of Idavoll, there had been elegant grace to her actions.
She enchanted him. Even more thoroughly than Odin's spell had tried to enchant Lenneth. Even as Lezard feared for her well being, he couldn't stop admiring the way she handled Obsidian. It wouldn't stop him from chastising her about his fears, Lezard meaning to impress upon her the dangers of what she had done this day.
A sudden turn, and Lenneth was riding towards him. Her blue eyes were lively, full of excitement from the ride. Obsidian's eyes were the same, the stallion looking happier than Lezard could ever remember seeing him.
"Shall we return to the castle?" Lenneth asked in a breathy tone of voice. It did things to him to hear her speak like that, Lezard trying to remember he was angry.
"Yes. If we delay any longer, we shall miss breakfast completely."
"Then let us hurry!" Before Lezard could demand Lenneth slow down, she was clicking her heels. Obsidian let out a wild sound, the horse taking off at a brisk pace once more. Lezard swore a vicious curse under his breath, grappling with his own horse's reins. The dappled stallion let out a protesting whinny, but picked up speed when it realized they were heading back to the castle's stables.
And still Lenneth and Obsidian beat them there. By the time Lezard's horse trotted into the stable's area, Lenneth was already sliding off the back of Obsidian. The horse was breathing heavy, flesh lathered with sweat from the hard
ride he had given. Lezard's stallion was no better off, the horse eagerly going over to the post. The dappled horse would make a whinny of sound, impatient for Lezard to get off his back.
Lenneth had tied Obsidian to the post, and was using a brush to go over his furred body. Her back was to Lezard, her attention seeming solely for the horse. She seemed unprepared for Lezard's approach, the mage unable to resist the impulse to put his arms around her.
"Lezard!" Lenneth gasped, the brush dropping from her hands. Obsidian snorted in disapproval, fidgeting restlessly in place. "Wh...what are you doing?!"
He didn't speak for one moment, just holding her against him as he buried his face into the back of her hair. Lezard might even be trembling, all from worry over her actions with the horse. He could feel Lenneth's confusion, as well as her unease. The woman didn't know what to make of this unguarded moment of his.
"Don't ever do that again." Lezard finally said, his voice thick with choking emotion. "Don't ever scare me like that again!"
"Scare you?" The surprise registered in her voice, Lenneth holding herself still in his needy embrace. "I didn't think you were that easy to scare."
"Don't make light. Not about this." He said fiercely. He relaxed his grip, allowing Lenneth to turn to face him. Her hair was disheveled, curled strands having escaped her braid. He wanted to touch her hair, to tenderly smooth back each of the loose strands. But he couldn't afford to be soft in the moment, needing his upset to make her understand the danger she had put herself in. "Lenneth, you are mortal now. You can't afford to take such chances..."
"Obsidian wouldn't have hurt me." She began to protest. He let out a ragged breath, shaking his head no.
"He might not have meant to, but there was still the chance of you falling! Or the horse misstepping! Gods, when I think of what could have happened, you thrown from Obsidian's back, or crushed under his weight..." Lezard wanted to hug her again, his shaking increasing as he stared into her eyes. "Lenneth, you must promise me. From now on, you will ride at a more slow and sedate pace."
