Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  "Mystina told me a little about your past." Lenneth admitted to him, trying to ignore how nice it felt having his thumbs caressing over her skin. "How you were abandoned as a child...."

  "Mystina talks for too much for her own good." He grumbled.

  "That she does." Lenneth agreed. "But in this case I am glad for the talk. For it reveals to me a side of you I hadn't considered." She lifted her hands, to cover his. But Lenneth couldn't smile, couldn't feel anything but this uncertain pain. "I won't be like her and say you are incapable of love. But you were done an injustice. By your own parents no less! I don't know why they abandoned you....but they took away so much from you."

  "It wasn't so bad." He had turned defensive. "The women at the orphanage were kind to me. And when my potential was revealed..."

  "They were ecstatic. They must have seen you as a tool to be used. I understand you were given the best of educations, nothing denied to you. But did anyone ever stop to hug you? To kiss you and promise you that everything would be all right?"

  "They praised me often....." Lezard hesitated. "But that is not the same as being loved, is it?"

  "No, it is not." Now Lenneth made him move his hands, but she didn't let go of him. "I know what love is. And not just because of some enchantment of Odin's! I have love for my sisters, and I had the love of my parents. Centuries may have passed since their deaths, but I still remember the warmth of their feelings, the love behind their actions."

  "Would you tell me about them?" Lezard asked. "Tell me what a real family is like?"

  "There is good times and bad times." Lenneth told him. She was searching through her memories, trying to grasp onto something she could give him. Something that wasn't hazy and nearly gone due to how much time had passed. "Love, as wonderful as it is, cannot stop bad things from happening. But it can lessen the effects, keep sadness at bay."

  "Was there much sadness in your house?"

  "No. We were blessed." Her father's laughter echoed in her ears, Lenneth remembering how often he had smiled. How the man had beamed with pride, aglow with the knowledge that he had sired three beautiful daughters. He hadn't cared about their divinity, hadn't spared a thought that one day all too soon they would leave him. He was merely happy, giving constant hugs, tossing Lenneth up into the sky before snatching her back down in his arms.

  "We lived in Crell Monferaigne. Even then it was the holiest of Odin's cities. My father was a knight, charged with protecting the temples. He commanded a squadron of temple knights. I can remember as early as five wanting to pick up a sword....wanting to dedicate my life to the heavens." A brief flicker of a sad smile. "Of course my father thought that too young an age to start training. I can remember watching my older sister Hrist with envy as she practiced her sword drills with the knights."

  She remembered the jealous zeal that had filled her, both awed and envious of Hrist. Not of her skill, but simply the fact that she got to hold a sword, got to duel with the knights. How many years would she have to wait until her father deigned to allow her to begin her training? Even now, Lenneth could remember the sadness in his eyes, the reluctance he had in giving her a sword. But he had known they couldn't put it off indefinitely. Odin would not allow the young Goddess to become anything but one of the commanders of his armies.

  "Part of the love of a parent is letting go." Lenneth said out loud. "In knowing when it is time to let your child walk her own path. It's never easy, but it's something that must be done...."

  "How old were you when Odin brought you to the heavens?" Lezard asked when it became apparent she would say no more.

  "Roughly eighteen years of your time had passed. Not yet enough time to have been set in my immortality." She remembered how excited she had been, how taken with the sights of the heavens. Even being thrust onto a battlefield couldn't dull her enthusiasm, Lenneth fighting just as fierce as any of the other, more experienced Valkyrie.

  Lezard didn't act shocked by how young Lenneth had been when Odin took her to the heavens. But then she suspected as a disciple of Hel, he too had been worked hard at a young age.

  "It was rare, but I did get the chance to visit my family on Midgard. Not as often as I would have liked." She sighed then. "Every time I saw them, my parents were older....all too soon they would be at death's door." She called to mind her mother's smiling face, withered with age. Her mother had grown to love Lenneth's' father, never seeming to regret the years she had spent with him.

  "I'm sorry." At his apology, Lenneth abruptly let go of Lezard's hands, turning away.

  "There's nothing to apologize for. It is a mortal's fate to grow old and die." It was her fate too now. Her long life that had seem to stretch on for all eternity would soon be at it's end. Time was now her enemy, the years would pass by all too quickly.

  Lezard did not speak out loud. There were no words that he could possibly offer her that would make it easier to grieve her lost immortality. Instead he laid his hands on her shoulders, lending her his warmth. She wanted to lean into him, take the support he was offering her. But Lenneth was conscious of how vulnerable she already was, speaking more emotionally than she had ever thought possible of herself.

  She wanted to distract herself from that vulnerable state she found herself in, Lenneth casting about for a topic that would open up her heart further to him. Asking Lezard about his own childhood hardly seemed ideal, it held the potential to make her sympathize with him.

  "I understand you've been to Asgard?" That seemed a safer topic to broach.

  "Why yes. I had work to do in Hel's name."

  She didn't ask him what he thought of the shining realm, knowing everyone who saw it fell in love with it's majestic beauty. "Is that when you negotiated the alliance between Lord Odin and Queen Hel?"

  "Yes." Her dress rustled, Lenneth turning to face him. She had so many questions then, Lenneth studying him carefully.

  "Mystina says you accomplish the impossible. That you succeeded where others failed." A guarded look had come to his expression. "Just what did you say to my King to get him to even consider allying with your queen?"

  A graceful shrug of his shoulders. "I merely made him an offer. I presented nothing that Hel wasn't prepared to offer."

  "Still, it is impressive. Often times has Odin thrown out or even killed her emissaries. That he even listened to you, is a miracle of itself."

  "It is just a case of making the right offer at the key time."

  "Then is it true? Is my Lord so desperate for a win against the undead, that he is now willing to do anything?" Lenneth asked.

  "I wouldn't say just about anything." Lezard hesitated. "But he is open to any help he can get."

  "Will other Valkryies come to Flenceburg?" She shook her head then. "I suppose they will. So long as Odin continues to ally with Hel, he will reward her people with the brides they so covet."

  Again that strange look in his eyes, as though Lezard was holding back something he wanted her to know. But whatever it was, his desire not to tell her won out, Lezard keeping quiet.

  "You should be careful of Mystina." She said out loud. That Lenneth had brought the topic back to the sorceress shocked him, Lezard not hiding the surprise in his eyes. "She is as you say....jealous and bitter. It's a bad combination that too often leads to trouble."

  "How well I know it." Lezard agreed. "She is a dangerous foe to have at my back. But even more dangerous to leave unchecked. At least here in the castle, I can keep an eye on her."

  "Is that why you allow her to stay?"

  "In part. Of course, if she proves too problematic, I may have to do something about her after all." He looked annoyed. "Mystina doesn't have the sense to appreciate her position and the good she could do with it. She antagonizes me, and goes after you."

  "I can handle her." Lenneth insisted.

  "But you shouldn't have to." Lezard exclaimed. "I've spoken with her. If she has any semblance of brains, she will not bother you again." He flashed her a half smile. "If you think up
a punishment suitable for her misbehavior, you will tell me won't you?"

  "Of course." She bowed her head in agreement, nowhere as startled this time when Lezard reached out to finger her hair. Lenneth was one step closer to getting used to these casual touches of his. One step closer to not reacting like a skittish animal every time Lezard came too near. Even worse, she liked the play of his fingers on her hair, liked how carefully he petted over the platinum strands.

  He was staring at her face as he did this, Lezard's half smile starting to blossom into a full one. She couldn't smile back, not even an uncertain one. The enchantment was playing havoc with her emotions, making her far more vulnerable to him than she should be. Her words of a few minutes earlier flashed in her head, Lenneth feeling embarrassment over her admittance of how she WANTED to love him. It was practically admitting defeat, and if he was a cruel man, Lezard would press his advantage.

  But all signs pointed to him being the opposite of cruel. That might make things worse for her, Lenneth knowing a kind man would be easier to fall in love with. It would lower her resistance, might make her fight just a little less harder against being with him. Even as she thought that, Lenneth tried to harden her heart. It was difficult, especially when she felt all a flutter, something inside her melting at Lezard's smile.

  She was not used to these reactions. They served as much to spook her as to make Lenneth yield. Unprepared, she could love him. And all it would take was a dropping of the last of her defenses. But Lenneth could not surrender so easily, especially not to this man. Even with his apparent kindness, and desire to make a relationship work between them.

  It was better than what a lot of women got. Especially when it came to arranged marriages. Lenneth knew she could have done worse when it came to husbands. Even as she recognized Lezard was not the ideal match a Valkyrie could make. Not with his devotion to Hel, and his black magic spells. Proof of some of his fouler works were all around them, Lenneth never forgetting there was a cut open body in the room.

  It wasn't a human's though, and that made a key difference. As did the fact his work with it was meant to further the mortal's advancement of medicines. It was surprising, Lenneth never having considered one could do good with bad magic. And yet that was what Lezard was doing, provided he was being truthful about that particular experiment.

  He was still touching her hair, looking far too pleased with himself at the continued touch she allowed. If Lenneth were to describe Lezard's expression, she would say he was enchanted in the moment. It made her flush with emotion, Lenneth finding she wanted to be ridiculously happy in response to the pleasure he gained just from touching her. Was this what it would be like to be in love? To feel happy in response to pleasing the object of one's affections?

  She had no experience with love when it extended beyond that of the love she felt for her sisters and parents. Never had Lenneth felt the warmth and intimacy of a lover's affection. She could feel the differences between the two kinds of love, and knew neither was to be feared. At least under normal circumstances! But this love developing in her heart was not normal. Or wanted! It was manufactured, and would make a fool of her. It was already well to succeeding, Lenneth forcing away the last vestiges of her ridiculous happiness.

  She must have given some outward sign of her success, Lezard's smile dimming. He'd actually take his hand away, as though aware his touch would no longer be welcomed. The silence between them became awkward, all their earlier comfort ruined.

  "I should go." Lenneth said out loud. But her feet weren't moving.

  "Must you?" Lezard asked her, sounding as though it was the last thing he wanted. And that only made her more determined than ever to leave, Lenneth nodding her head.

  "I'm sure you have work to do."

  "Nothing that can't wait." Lezard told her. She felt pleasure that he would put aside his work for her, and yet still Lenneth insisted on going.

  "Your people will not appreciate my distracting you." Lenneth forced herself to turn away, her slow moving feet propelling her towards the door. He followed her, all too persistent in the moment.

  "I'm sure they would understand." He told her. "Nor would the begrudge me the time spent getting to know my betrothed."

  They were strangers to each other. And strangers they must remain, Lenneth holding out hope that she would one day return to the heavens. She couldn't afford any earthly attachments, could not allow herself to feel for him more than she already did.

  "There will be time yet in the future for us to get to know one another." The lie rolled smoother off her tongue than she had expected. "After all, it's not like I am going anywhere." She had reached the door, hand pulling on the handle. The door creaked open, and was abruptly pushed close, Lezard's hand pressing on the wood. He stood next to her, all but pinning Lenneth between him and the door. She tensed in preparation for an attack, her clothes rustling against his as Lenneth turned to look at him.

  "The wedding will be the day after tomorrow." He was looming over her, appearing bigger than she had first believed. Lenneth gazed up at his face, feeling trapped. Both by his nearness, and the words he spoke.

  "I will be ready." She all but whispered. His other hand rose, Lezard bringing it towards her cheek. But he didn't actually touch her, content to just hover it in place. But she could feel the warmth of him ghosting along her skin. It was almost worse than if he had touched her directly, Lenneth finding she yearned to press into his hand.

  He didn't challenge what she had said. Nor did he say anything else to her. His hand moved as though he was actually caressing her, Lenneth closing her eyes briefly in response. That was a mistake on her part, Lenneth opening her eyes as she felt warmth on her lips. Lezard had leaned into her, his lips almost touching hers. It called to memory the awakening kiss he had given her, the one meant to steal her heart's choice from her.

  "D.....don't..." Lenneth stammered, having no space to maneuver away from Lezard.

  "Lenneth..." He whispered her name, his intent focused on her. She knew then he was determined to take the kiss from her. A moment of fleeting panic filled her, gut twisting as she gave in to worry. If a kiss had awakened her to a magically manufactured love, would another bring her even closer to submitting? Lenneth did not know, nor did she want to risk finding out the answer to her question.

  His lips started to touch hers, and Lenneth lashed out. Her hands shoved him violently away, and only Lezard's surprise allowed him to move. He hadn't succeeded in kissing her fully, but Lenneth was distressed all the same. She stared at him one long moment, sure her expression was as tortured as Lezard's was. "I....I'm sorry!" She gasped out the instant before she wrenched open the doors. But she didn't mean that apology.

  "Lenneth!" Lezard cried out her name, but it wasn't enough to stop her from lurching out the door. His shout didn't draw her attention back to him, Lenneth hauling up her skirts and breaking into a run. She ran as though the very hounds of Hel chased her, but there was no outdistancing her true opponent. Love and the enchantment would track her down, follow Lenneth no matter where she hid, no matter how often she fled.

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  Chapter 20: Twenty

  Her sleep wasn't so all consuming for her not to dream. She simply wasn't that fortunate, her mind restless and stirred up by both the exertions of her body, and the feelings she had awakened to briefly as a vampire. Those feelings weren't so easy to soothe away. They raged out of control within her, Silmeria remembering the way she had lusted for the vampire, that powerful and impressive male.

  It was thoughts of Brahms that were heavy on her mind, following her down into sleep. It wasn't just the moments in the ball room she saw, though those would have been strong enough to keep her in a perpetual state of arousal. Other, less volatile memories swirled, working to calm, to soothe her emotional turmoil. She caught bits and
pieces, Silmeria replaying the nights of her captivity.

  Those two nights she had thus far spent as a vampire, were filled with constant, new sensations. Her sight and sound enhanced. It wasn't the only newness to her life, Silmeria had much change to acclimatize to. And the one presence that had been a near constant since her awakening was him. Brahms. He had been with her when she first opened her eyes, and she instinctively knew he would have been with her if that other vampire hadn't called him away on business.

  Brahms. Her mind wouldn't stop thinking about him. Wouldn't stop remembering the look in his eyes, the crimson always so dark with desire and a yearning that was going unfulfilled. He turned that all consuming gaze on her often, the vampire not bothering to hide how he wanted her. Often, the look was such that a lesser female would have fallen to her knees, would have stripped herself of all her defenses to cater to his demands.

  She was never so weak willed as that. Instinct led her to know with absolutely surety that Brahms wouldn't have settled for so docile and easily controlled a female. The predator in him, the vampire, wanted the pleasure that came from having an equal. One that wouldn't break under his dominance, one that could match him in the play of give and get.

  The memories pressed in on her, Silmeria seeing flashes of the nights spent in the vampire's bedroom. Of being pinned beneath him, his strong weight a pleasurable heaviness that intrigued her. She hadn't had time to properly appreciate his nearness then, her attention had become riveted on the blood that dripped off of his neck. The memory of that blood was almost powerful enough to distract her from her lusts, from appreciating the male that continued to dominate her dreams.

  But never did the memories give her what she really wanted. They always played out exactly how they had first happened, Silmeria going unfulfilled even in her mind. Frustration bloomed within her, Silmeria wanting to rip the clothes from Brahms' body. To reveal that dark skin, run her tongue over the lines of his many muscles. She wanted to take bites out of him, and it had nothing to do with feeding. She wanted to consume, to possess as badly as he wanted to claim her.