Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  New discoveries would come. Brahms would learn it would take power to truly transform another into a vampire. The newly made fledglings could not do it, all they could create was revenants. It would take several hundred years before a fledgling would become powerful enough to pass on the vampirism to others. Often times it would take that long for the fledgling to come to accept their new life.

  He wasn't alone anymore, having a few vampires around him. And with the vampires, he learned even more things about the race he was creating. There was the oddity of the blood, the fact that one vampire feeding off another vampire, could receive memories. Thankfully this was only limited to the vampires' blood. It would have been a terrible thing if every time they fed off a different race they were flooded with that person's life memories.

  It was a weird enough experience for the vampires to see each other's memories. It bonded the vampires together more closely, no secrets between them once they fed off of each other. Brahms' own personal history was shared with those first fledglings. It felt good to have the true story known, even as his fledglings bemoaned the fact that his history was too overwhelming to be burdened with.

  Brahms did not realize it then, but in giving his vampires his blood and the knowledge contained within it, he was endangering the fledgelings. Odin would not tolerate the truth being made known. But it would take time for Odin to realize Brahms was creating his own race of people, the God too busy fighting with Hel for control of the undead. Brahms would have relative peace for the next three hundred years, the vampire busy. He kept on making vampires, trying to expand his race. He didn't set out to create a kingdom, he just wanted an army in which to contend with Odin. Soon the vampires reached such numbers that the flock had to relocate. There was too many to feed if they stuck together on the mainland. Brahms allowed them to break up, to travel elsewhere without him.

  He'd search out a land for them. He'd find it on an island, a perfect place for the vampires to live. It would take years of searching Midgard, and even longer to build them a proper home on the island. Odin and Hel were busy too. Odin had successfully wrest control of the undead from Hel, and set them off to find Brahms. Hel herself was infuriated over the loss, left only with the demons of Niflehiem to protect her. She wasn't satisfied with such a small army of protectors. Hel would set her sights on the mortals, on further corrupting them.

  It was Hel who began to teach magic to the humans. It was an ancient and forbidden art, a skill Odin had never intended the humans to learn. He damned those who began to follow Hel, but the mortals were more advanced now. Willing to make their own choices. Some didn't believe in Odin's wrath, didn't believe in the damnation he threatened them with. They persisted in following the Goddess, in learning her magic. It damned them, and added to her armies, Hel using them and their souls to further her own power.

  Each of the three power players were gathering their armies. Odin so recently victorious against Hel, would turn his attention back to Brahms. He wouldn't like what he saw, the vampires thriving. He'd like it even less when he realized those vampires knew the truth of Brahms' origins. It was a sad day for Brahms when Odin sent the Valkyries to hunt down his fledglings. He'd send the undead too, many of the vampires dying, torn apart at the monsters' hands. They barely stood a chance against their opponents, the vampires still too inexperienced, too new to know how to utilize their strengths to fight effectively. He would try to do what he could to help minimize the losses, but even Brahms was not as almighty as to prevent so many vampires from dying.

  It would be at a point of sheer and utter desperation that Brahms would try to take control of the undead. He hadn't expected his compulsion to work on them. It had been so long since he had tried it out on these types of creatures. He had wrongfully assumed that when Odin had severed his connection with Hel, it had damaged Brahms' control over the undead. Imagine his shock when he discovered quite the opposite, the undead quickly falling into line with Brahms' commands.

  Odin was enraged at the loss of his undead armies. But there was nothing he could do to bring them back to his side. Brahms had them firmly under control, his command of them earning him the title Lord of the Undead. Odin thought Hel had purposefully given control of her monsters to Brahms, though the Goddess fervently denied it. She became shunned, not only by Odin and the other deities, but by many of the realms.

  Hel continued to thirst for vengeance, fighting Odin for control of Midgard. She couldn't take it by force, but many mortals were too foolish and eager to follow her. Those mortals gathered together, and under the Goddess' guidance, built whole nations devoted to her. Hel's power grew from the worshippers she gained. Odin would follow suit, creating his own kingdoms that were devoted to worshipping him.

  Midgard was split in half, and the other realms seemed intent on allying with Odin. Brahms had no real allies, he only had his vampires and the undead monsters to rely on. By this point and time, the vampires who had survived the undead massacre, were strong enough to create vampires as well. The race was expanding, more and more vampires being created.

  Brahms was careful not to share his blood with these new fledglings, not wanting them to take the burden of his memories. He had noticed a trend, Odin targeting vampires who knew the truth of how their race came to be. It seemed Odin did not want anyone to know the real truth behind Brahm's transformation. Odin seemed to have an instinctive way of knowing just who knew the truth. And his reaction to that knowledge being shared was near instantaneous, striking down dead those who knew.

  Brahms stopped sharing his blood completely with the vampires. Nor did he speak of their origins. Soon there was no vampire left alive who knew the truth. It was no surprise that rumors began. No one tried to correct this gossip. It was not as though the real truth was pleasant, and Brahms did not want to be reminded incessantly about his past.

  By this point Brahms was a master at compulsion. He was able to bespell many people just by having them gaze into his eyes. His bite was an even more powerful compulsion, Brahms able to make blood slaves if he so chose. He'd also learn to teleport, a skill that was quite handy when it came to battling the Valkyrie and their einherjar.

  But he wasn't ready yet to march on Asgard. Brahms would continue to develop the vampires, to make them a civilized race. He wasn't content to let them be nothing more than monsters that terrorized the realms. He might have even been content to let them exist safely on their island, if not for his pressing need to take revenge on Odin. He still hated Odin for what had been done to him, Brahms could not accept all the changes that had been wrought on his body. He even mourned that which had been done to Hel, though Brahms knew he and the Goddess would never be close again.

  It was several hundred thousand years before Silmeria would be conceived, that Brahms made his first attack on Asgard. He took his now vast army up to the heavens, the undead eager for a chance to dine on Valkyrie flesh. His vampires had not yet been exposed to the treat that was a Valkyrie's blood. They had simply been too inexperienced to last against the battle maidens. But this time it would be different, the vampires having gained skill in fighting. It did not mean their victory was ensured. Especially not against legions of einherjar led by many able bodied Valkyrie.

  They would be marching across Bifrost, the very bridge seeming to quake in response to their footsteps. Brahms was near the front of his army, mot quite in the lead as they made their way across the bridge. His eyes were greedy for the sights of Asgard, Brahms actually pausing at one point to just stare around him. The heavens were as beautiful as he had remembered, all the colors brighter, more blazing than Midgard's. The air here was sweet, there was none of the sulfur and brimstone stench that permeated the underworld.

  It almost brought a tear to his eyes, Brahms overcome in the moment of his return. It had been too long since he had last set foot on this holy land. Time had not lessened the pain of being forced from his home. He could have stood and just stared in amazement for hours, but his vampires were u
rging him forward. They had none of his sentimentality, though they could acknowledge the heavens were beautiful indeed.

  They'd resume trekking across the bridge, about half their army on it when a God appeared. Brahms recognized him in an instant, calling out his name. "Heimdall!" He was already shoving himself through to the front of his army, his eyes intent on the brown haired, bearded God.

  Heimdall looked at him, his lower lip curling in a sneer. If he recognized Brahms, he gave no sign of it. "I thought I smelled the undead."

  "Heimdall it's me." Brahms said in response. "It's Brahms."

  The God did not react to the name, neither impressed nor showing any signs of recognition. Brahms wondered at that, knowing that though his skin and eyes had changed color, he had not been transformed so thoroughly as to be unrecognizable.

  "Don't you know me?" Brahms asked, taking a cautious step towards Heimdall. He was right to be wary, the God lighting up with power.

  "Keep back!" Heimdall shouted, flinging globes of ether towards Brahms and his vampires. Instantly the night was filled with the sounds of teleportation, the vampires frantic to get out of the way. The undead monsters Brahms had taken control of, were left to bear the brunt of the God's attack, bodies flying up into the sky from the force of the explosion.

  "Heimdall!" Brahms was aghast. "What are you doing?!"

  "Undead scum." Heimdall was throwing more ether. "Your kind is not fit to walk among paradise. Your kind can only bring ruin to us. I will not allow you to spoil the land and the people of Asgard in the same manner you have spoiled the other realms! DIE!"

  The orbs of divine energy was flying, torpedoing into the scattering army. Those undead still on the bridge had nowhere to run, many falling into the waters Iving. The God attacked them even there, but by this point the vampires were teleporting in close to him. They'd hiss and snarl, striking at the God's body. They'd teleport in close, then vanish before he could deal with them.

  They were a nuisance at best to the God. They served only to stir up Heimdall's anger, more of his divine energy flying. Brahms let out a breath, trying not to snarl himself as he prepared to teleport to Heimdall's side. The God would throw a punch at Brahms' arrival, the vampire grabbing at his wrist.

  "Stop this Heimdall! It's me! Brahms!"

  "Stop speaking as though I should be familiar with you!" Heimdall growled, and with his free hand shoved a burst of energy into Brahms' face. It blinded him, Brahms staggering back when Heimdall kicked him. More energy crashed into him, Brahms could hear his people screaming, moving to attack the God. Their attacks distracted Heimdall from their King, buying Brahms a moment to recover.

  "We grew up together." Brahms said when he had recovered. His eyes still hurt from the ether that had been thrust into his face. "Your mother was my wet nurse...!"

  "Don't you dare!" Heimdall gasped, outraged. "Do not, even in jest, imply my mother would ever have anything to do with you undead!" More ether was flung at him, Brahms teleporting out of the way.

  "I wasn't always the creature you see before you! I too was once like you....!"

  "LIES!" Heimdall screamed, continuing to rely on his ether to attack Brahms and his army. Even without Heimdall blowing his sacred horn, Gjallarhorn, the fight was attracting attention from others in the realm. It wouldn't be long before an advance party of Valkyrie arrived, einherjar following close behind them. Brahms would continue to fight with Heimdall, having to settle for teleporting to get in close enough to lay claws on the God. And all the while he wondered at Heimdall's words, wondered and worried how the God could claim not to know him.

  He wouldn't get answers that day. Or the next. The fighting would continue, only increase in seriousness as Odin set forth his army to meet with Brahms'. Sometimes the vampires would catch a glimpse of other Gods, but mostly the deities kept out of the fighting. Brahms was always alert to when a new God appeared on the battlefield, allowing his vampires to distract the deity until Brahms could teleport over there. He'd arrive with hopes that the God would recognize him, and always, Brahms would come away disappointed.

  It would be a long time before Brahms could finally understand just what Odin had done. How Odin had twisted the memories of the very Gods who lived in Asgard. They did not recognize Brahms, did not know of him beyond his titles as Lord of the Undead, and King of the Vampires. They seemed to have no knowledge of his time before he had fallen, before he had been transformed through Odin's own treachery. It was Odin's own doing. As King of Creation he had gained enough power to tamper with memories, even that of his fellow Gods. But it wasn't a complete erasing. Odin could not wipe out all of Brahms' memory from the Asgardian's minds. So he did the next best thing, twisting and distorting the memories until the Gods forgot that Brahms had once been one of their own.

  Once again Odin had succeeded in taking from Brahms. It hurt to be forgotten, hurt that the Gods he had called friends no longer knew him. But Brahms didn't let the hurt stop him from living, from continuing to fight. The Vampire King did not know if what Odin had done could be reversed, but Brahms was determined to TRY. He never gave up hope that with Odin's death, many of the wrongs in his life would be righted.

  Brahms didn't believe he could ever turn back from what he had become. The parasite was too ingrained in him, too a part of him. He'd never regain his divinity, never be free of the parasite and it's hunger. He could only make the best of his situation, continue to live and fight for his right to existence. For his vampires right to THEIR existence.

  Silmeria felt the change in Brahms' thoughts, the vampire's resolve stronger than ever. He would have his long denied vengeance, killing Odin, and taking his seat upon Creation's throne. He would force the other realms to accept the vampires, force them to recognize the key difference between them and those mindless monsters, the revenants.

  It wasn't an easy path he set out upon. The fighting would extend for millennia. It was rough going, Brahms at times becoming disheartened. He had lived only for vengeance, but now he also had motivation to live for the vampires he had created. But that wasn't enough to make him happy, Brahms struggling, sometimes daily, to find joy in his life.

  That joy would eventually manifest in the form of a Valkyrie. Silmeria saw herself appear on the plains of Idavoll, over a millennia after the war in the heavens had started in earnest. Silmeria was familiar with their encounters, but now she experienced them from Brahms point of view. It was unsettling, Silmeria witnessing the sincerity of Brahms' interest in her. She had never denied his interest, though Silmeria had often tried to deny the depth of the feelings Brahms claimed he had for her.

  It was jarring to realize the vampire truly loved her. To the point it bordered on obsession. She witnessed the acts he did in the name of that obsession, the way he strove to get near to her. She'd even see his memories of her time as a fledgling vampire, Silmeria learning just how deeply her scornful words had cut. She was almost ashamed at how she had hurt him, Silmeria having to quickly remind herself Brahms was in the wrong for forcefully changing her.

  But the main feeling she came away with, was an undeniable hope. The first true hope Brahms had felt in years. It was a hope centered on Silmeria, Brahms holding many expectations towards her and the kind of life they could have together. It was daunting, it was humbling, Silmeria realizing her very presence gave Brahms that which he had been missing all those years. Both happiness and hope. Silmeria didn't know if she could live up to those expectations. Nor did Silmeria know if she even wanted to try.

  ...

  Chapter 37 : Thirty Seven

  Hands were clapping, making a purposeful repeating sound that kept to the beat of the music. Laughter and cheers accompanied those sounds, the people smiling as they watched and waited for their chance to join in on the dancing. There wasn't that much room. Certainly not enough floor to accommodate everyone should all the guests decide to get up and dance at once. Patience was the key. When one couple took their seats, another would be quick to take t
heir place in the dance.

  Colors were all around her, the guests looking like a living rainbow in their new clothing. Women's skirts flared, twirling about as the ladies were spun by their partners. Flashes of legs could be seen, the men laughing, whistling in appreciation. There was no room for modesty, the women taking it all in stride as they danced to their heart's content.

  Lenneth danced too, caught up in the arms of a man who was most definitely not her new husband. This man wore a constant smile, eyes bright with laughter as he spun Lenneth around him. Faster and faster, until she was almost dizzy and only the support of his arms kept her upright. Fortunately, he did not take this as an opportunity to pull her closer than was proper. Lenneth wouldn't have allowed it. She would have reacted in a manner most unbefitting for the laughter and festivity of the moment.

  It was hard to remain unaffected by the people here. By their laughter and excitement, their sheer enjoyment of the day. It was downright infectious, and though Lenneth had done little smiling, and no outright laughing, she too could admit to a slight relaxing of her guard. It was simply too difficult to fight against the tide of the people, against their innocent joy.

  It didn't mean Lenneth was completely at ease. She hadn't been all day, her troubles and worries of the night before plaguing her well into the start of today. And she had so many of them! More than perhaps she had ever had, even as a commander of Odin's armies. Back then, in her heavenly home, she had never felt the pressure or constraints of time. She had known she would live or die on the battlefield, and that had been enough for her.

  In Asgard she had been just one of many Valkyries. Brave and bold, valued but replaceable. It hurt to be discarded so easily, but Lenneth had always accepted that as the one drawback to her life as a battle maiden. Of course Lenneth had never dreamed she would be given away, that her life as Valkyrie would end in anything but her own death. Perhaps that is why she found it so difficult to accept her circumstances now.