Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  "Stop this!" Hel shouted, her voice a sudden reminder that they were not alone in the room. The two men did not look at the goddess, continuing to glare at each other. "Now is not the time! Your father is dead! Our KING is dead. We should be making preparations, getting him ready for his burial."

  "Nothing is more important than who sits on the throne." Odin told her, glaring at Brahms.

  "The issue has already been decided." Hel told them. "We all heard your father's last words. He wants the both of you to rule."

  "Come now Hel. You can see the impracticality of that decision!! There's no way we can rule, even if I was willing to share my birthright with him." Sneered Odin.

  "You will share it all the same. You gave your unbreakable vow to your father. The both of you did!" Hel pointed out. "To go against it is to invite disaster upon yourselves." To Silmeria, it looked like Odin was willing to take the risk, the God still glowering angrily. "Odin please. Do not dishonor yourself, or your father. Do as he decreed."

  A change came over Odin, one Brahms did not trust. "As always Hel, you are the voice of reason." He smiled then, but the expression was tight. "I will abide by father's last wish."

  "As will I." Brahms said. Silmeria got the sense that Brahms did not care about ruling. He just wanted to do what his father had asked of him. That it annoyed his brother, Odin, was simply an added bonus.

  Hel was relieved. "I know this incident was born merely from the grief of your loss. I will put aside what I have witnessed. No one need know you two almost came to blows."

  Odin smiled his gratitude at the Goddess. He'd actually go so far as to bow to her, before leaving the room. Brahms would keep a tense watch on the silver haired God, waiting until he was gone before collapsing besides the bed. His grief had hit him strong, and he did not look up as the Goddess approached him.

  "It's all right..." She whispered soothingly, placing a hand on Brahms' back. Silmeria felt uneasy to be touched by the dark Goddess, but Brahms hardly reacted. Not even when Hel kneeled down besides him, trying to wrap her arms around Brahms' massive frame. "I know it doesn't seem that way, but someday the pain will lessen....you will heal from your loss...."

  "Sound words." Brahms murmured, not even looking at the Goddess. "They comfort me that an end to the pain will come."

  "But not fast enough for you liking?" She asked.

  "Tomorrow wouldn't be fast enough." Brahms said. "I wish I could be like Odin. Wish I could be so unfeeling."

  "He feels." Insisted Hel. "He just channels his grief into an irrational rage. But he is hurting same as you."

  Silmeria felt the strong doubt Brahms had over that. "Thank you for your help with him." Brahms said out loud. "It would not have made me feel good to beat my brother on the day of our father's death."

  "I will always be by your side, always ready, always willing to lend you aid. No matter the problem, my love." Silmeria's breath hissed out of her at the last, Brahms turning to look at the sad smile on Hel's face. She was staring at him, her eyes filled with devotion as she moved to caress the back of her fingers against his cheek. Brahms held himself stiff for that touch, feeling frustrated that he could not return Hel's affection.

  "I don't deserve you." He told her, and pain colored her expression. Hel knew as well as Brahms did, that he did not return her love. And yet the Goddess was content to take what she could from him, continuing to stroke him with her fingers. She was careful with the engagement ring she wore, keeping it from scratching his cheek with it's rough diamond. A diamond Brahms himself had given her, the two deities being promised to each other through an arranged marriage.

  "You have me all the same." Hel said. Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect on Brahms. He turned away, but not before he saw how hurt she was by him.

  "Leave me." He ordered in a gruff tone of voice. "I wish to have a few minutes more with my father."

  "All right." Silmeria heard the rustle of her skirts, the Goddess rising to her feet. There would be no more talking, the Goddess simply going. Brahms would continue to kneel by the bed, actually taking hold of his dead father's hand once more. And with it he would cry, letting out all the grief that he felt. It was such a strong, profound emotion that even Silmeria was moved to tears.

  Her vision blurred, and she realized Brahms was crying again. His tears seem to affect the memory, the room starting to fall apart, the colors melting into flowing streams. They would reform into another vision, Silmeria seeing it was night time now. But even in the dark, there was no mistaking the beauty of the land. It was still the shining realm, the heavens known as Asgard. But they were at one of it's borders, the bridge Bifrost that connected Asgard to the land below, that of Midgard.

  Even at night, the colors of Bifrost's rainbow bridge sparked iridescently. It was a stark contrast to the people gathered here, their expressions as gloomy as their clothing. They were all garbed in black, suitable clothing for a funeral. There was no need for torches, the rainbow bridge's colors gleamed bright enough for them to see.

  Silmeria was once again inside of Brahms, looking out through his eyes. Feeling what he felt, hearing his thoughts. He had not recovered from his grief, sadness lining his every thought. Even the way he moved showed he was in mourning, his head bowed low, his shoulders hunched. Besides him was his fiancee, Hel resting a hand on his arm. She was as beautiful as ever, even dressed in stark black. And yet he was unaffected by her beauty, finding there was little about her that could actually touch his heart.

  Other Gods were present, some of them openly weeping. It had been a shock to all of them that their King had died. Gods were supposed to be eternal. There was little if anything that could truly do them in, the most dangerous being another God. But their King had had no enemies, had had no equal. It just didn't make sense how he could have died, wasting away as though he had been mortal.

  These thoughts troubled Brahms, the man wanting to know, to understand why this had happened. But the Goddess of Healing could find no known cause, no explanation for what had happened to their King. It was a mystery, one that had frustrated Eir, and prevented the Goddess from coming up with a proper cure. It was that same mystery that had unease spreading throughout the other Gods, making them wonder if and who would be the next to succumb.

  It was up to Brahms and Odin to reassure them. A difficult task, given the fear and paranoia that was spreading among the divine. It was made even worse by the fact that neither man's heart was really in it, each dealing with their own problems. For Brahms, it was his grief over the loss of his father. While Odin continued with his anger, raging over the unfairness of the promises their father extracted from the two brothers.

  Brahms and Odin had yet to announce their father's decision. There simply was no rush to ascend to the throne, everyone needing to grieve. As it stood, only three people knew the truth behind the King's last words. The brothers, and the Goddess Hel.

  But soon the truth would come out. Creation needed to continue, their father's life work needed to be completed. The worlds needed to be formed, and filled with new races and people. It would be a lot of hard work, and Brahms was actually looking forward to it, if only for the distraction it would offer him from his grief.

  The einherjar were preparing a funeral barge, the dead King's body placed in the center of it. Under Bifrost's bridge, ran a strain of the river Iving, the water that separated Asgard from the realm of Jotunheim. It was on this water, that the funeral barge would be placed. But before that, each God and Goddess would come to pay their last respects to the King.

  Brahms and Odin were the first to approach, walking together to say their final farewells. It was a symbol that they approached together, neither one being more favored over the other. Brahms was sure the people gathered here noticed, and they would surely speculate on what it all meant. But he didn't care, bowing his head as he laid a pouch of silver coins in his father's hands. Odin would produce a token of his own, laying the strong smell
satchel of incense by their father's head.

  For a long moment they just stood their, heads bowed as they prayed. Somewhere behind them, a voice started singing, the song melancholy sadness. The song would continue, even after Odin and Brahms stepped away from the barge. Hel and the Goddess Freya would be next to approach. Hel was once again weeping, a silk handkerchief in her hands as she gazed down at the King.

  It would take some time for all the Gods and Goddesses to take their turns by the barge. But at last it would be done, einherjar lifting the barge, walking into the waters Iving with it. They would get soaked up to their waist, and then the river would catch hold of the barge, carrying it away. The einherjar would hurry back to dry land, and others would be waiting, flaming arrows being put against their bows' strings.

  The sad song continued, the flaming arrows taking to the air. Their aim was true, striking the barge, setting it, the dead King, and the offerings on fire. There was few people who were not weeping by this point, but somehow Odin managed to keep his own eyes dry. Brahms did not speak one word to his brother, merely offering his arm to Hel, before making the journey back to the castle.

  A blink of Brahms' eyes, and suddenly Silmeria would be back inside Valhalla. The dining hall was nearly empty, a great feast spread out before her. Across from Brahms, sat Odin, the God seeming in a jovial mood as he drank from a bejeweled goblet. Brahms' own goblet was empty, but the golden haired Freya was present, hurrying to refill it from a new pitcher of mead she had just fetched.

  Examining Brahms thoughts, Silmeria learned the two brothers had spent most of the evening discussing their ascent to the throne in the coming days. Though discuss might be too mild a word for the arguments that sometimes broke out. They had much to be concerned about, much to do following their ascension. For too long had Creation gone unguided, undesirable elements starting to crop up in the other realms. They needed to work together to stamp out those undesirables, work to get Creation back on track according to their father's vision.

  Odin was eager to fill Midgard with a new kind of people, a new race he claimed to have discovered among his father's notes. The humans as Odin called them, would be a race whose life was a short existence. They alone would have the taint of mortality to them, living but the briefest of lives before dying. Brahms didn't see the point to a race that was so short lived, and had wondered what Odin would do with all the souls.

  Odin had just smiled, being evasive about his plans for the humans' souls. That had annoyed Brahms, the man feeling if the two were going to rule, they should keep no secrets from one another. But no matter the argument, Odin kept quiet about that. He couldn't keep trying to pry out the details from his brother, there was other things they had to worry about. They'd spend a long night, yet accomplish little for all the talk they did.

  By the time they called it a night, Brahms was very much tired. His vision actually seemed to be blurring from how badly he needed sleep. It was with an unsteady step that he stumbled towards his room. He'd write it off as simply too much to drink, never realizing a more sinister purpose could be behind his sudden turn in health. By the time morning came around, he felt sick, as though something had been draining him of his energy.

  His movements continued to be sluggish, Brahms barely managing to get dressed. He'd go about his day as best he could, but it was difficult to keep alert. A few times during breakfast, he would have nodded off into his soup if not for Hel's none too subtle jab in his side with her elbow. Brahms did not fail to notice the way the other Gods looked at him, some going so far as to edge away from him. It would only get worse in the coming days, Brahms' health deteriorating, much like his father's had.

  It wasn't just his body that suffered. Sleep was a cursed affair, Brahms suffering troubling dreams, the likes of which he could not understand. They only grew worse with each night, Brahms dreaming of an unquenchable hunger, a thirst so desperate it left his mouth dry, his throat parched. No matter what he drank, what he ate, in his dreams and in reality, he continued to go unsatisfied.

  The ceremony for the brothers to ascend to the throne was delayed, put off by Brahms' weakened state. Odin seemed quite calm about this, merely advising Brahms to do his best to get better. But Brahms continued to weaken, spending much of his time in bed. Hel was often with him, she and the Goddess Eir the only ones who did not fear the catching of his sickness.

  It frustrated the Goddess of Healing almost as much as it did Brahms. For all the work she had done with his father, Eir could not fathom the reason behind Brahms' weakening. He could read in her face, his death was coming, and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop it. He felt so sick, he couldn't even properly rail against what was happening. Just lay there, disgusted with himself for allowing this weakness to infest him.

  But he WANTED to live. Wanted to do almost anything to ensue he got better. But no miracle was coming, Brahms was sure of that. Soon even Eir stopped her visits, leaving Brahms to Hel's attentive care. She tried not to, but Hel was often crying over him. She'd go so far as to climb in bed with him, and wrap her arms around his body, her head resting on his chest.

  One day, during a particular heavy weeping session, Brahms managed a growl. "I'm not dead yet." He said. Hel instantly gasped, sitting up to stare at him aghast. Her face had gone pale, and though her eyes were rimmed with red, she somehow manage to stop her tears from falling.

  "Of course you aren't. I never meant to..." She was stammering, looking horrified at the mere thought of him dying. "We'll...we'll find a cure. Eir WILL find a cure."

  "Eir has given up on me." Brahms said with certainty. "She spends her days now concentrating on finding a way to prevent this from spreading." He softened his voice, gazing at Hel with what worry he could muster. "You shouldn't spend any more time with me."

  "What kind of bride would I be, if I did not spend my time besides my fiances' sick bed?" Hel demanded.

  "You need to think of yourself!" Brahms said. "I am dying." Hel made a vocal protest, one Brahms spoke over. "There is nothing left to do for me. But you? You have all of eternity to live out. You..."

  "I don't want to live if it's not by your side!" Hel said fiercely, tightening her arms around him. "Don't send me away...don't make me lose what little time we have left together."

  Silmeria felt his frustrations, and it did not all have to do with the stubborn Goddess refusing to leave him. Brahms felt inadequate, felt there was something wrong with him that even now, seeing how devoted Hel was to him, he still couldn't love her. She deserved better, and Brahms knew with his passing, the Goddess would be able to find someone to replace him. It might take some time, but eventually she would move on. And her life would be better for this time he was sure she would find someone who would return her love.

  "Hel..."

  "Don't....don't say anymore!" She begged him. She lifted her gaze, her eyes wet with tears. Even in her abject misery she was beautiful, and yet she did nothing to stir him save for guilt. "I would give my life so that you could live!"

  Silmeria felt the shiver that went through him, Brahms realizing the sincerity of Hel's words. She had meant them, had spoken them as an unbreakable promise between them.

  "You little fool!" Brahms managed to hiss. "Don't make such promises! Not to me, not to anyone!"

  "But I love you." Hel insisted. "I'll do anything I can to save you!"

  But the saving wouldn't come that day, or even the next. Brahms would continue to linger between life and death, always tired, always hungry. No matter how much he ate and drank, his mouth was always dry. He was starving, and could not take enough food in him to sustain himself. It was a disease that would have him waste away slowly, sapping all life and vitality from him.

  Hel continued to spend every waking moment with him. No one else came. No one else seemed to care. His brother, Odin certainly didn't. He was a coward, as frightened as the other Gods were, that he would catch Brahms' sickness. Brahms worried constantly for Hel's health, always sear
ching her face for signs of a tiredness that had nothing to do with the late night vigils she kept besides him.

  The dreams continued to plague him, tormenting him so that Brahms knew no rest even in sleep. They were practically nightmares, Brahms desperate to end the hunger that so plagued him. When he was awake and coherent, and had time to examine his dreams, Brahms thought the hunger was representing the sickness that had taken over his life.

  The day everything changed was the most vivid of Brahms memories. The sunlight streamed into his room, his bed just out of reach of it. Brahms had spent weeks in bed, weeks inside the castle. He longed to go outside, to feel the sun on his skin. He wanted to breathe fresh air, to see a sight besides the four walls of his room. But that wasn't going to happen. He knew he would die in this room, die with no one around him save for his fiancee.

  The closeness they had shared during the weeks of his illness, didn't bond them together. Or at least it didn't make Brahms feel any closer to Hel, though the Goddess seemed as enamored as ever. Every morning she would come to see him, opening his curtains to let the sun in. Every morning she would curl up besides him in bed, just listening to the ever slowing beat of his heart.

  Brahms was too weak to stop her, and in truth was too lonely to want to end the sole contact he had with the world outside his bedroom. He should have sent her away, especially when the dreams began to feature her. It was disturbing, Brahms finding he had unnatural urges towards her. The urge to hurt, to possess, to consume. He'd bleed her in his dreams, slice her open intent on the life beneath her skin. He never shared these dreams with Hel, too frightened, too ashamed, too disgusted with himself.

  He came off of one of those dreams on this the day that should have been like any of the others. But it was not, Hel late for her visit. He wouldn't learn why until after she appeared, the Goddess dressed in a gown of midnight blue. It was fancier than her normal choice of dresses, and one look at her guilty face let Brahms know what the reason behind it was.