by GR Griffin
That had either been a great mistake on his part, or perhaps his greatest salvation, Brahms catching sight of her eyes. Colored blue, they reminded him of the ocean waters that surrounded his island home, all turbulent with waves of violence. But it wasn't anger that had festered within them, nor did she wear the typical disdain her kind usually bore when dealing with the undead. Instead she had seemed tired, a weariness that had nothing to do with any physical exhaustion. It was the same kind of weariness that Brahms himself had known all too well, the Undead King having tired of eternity, and having tired of the endless fighting between his kind and that of Odin's warriors.
Of course that alone wouldn’t be enough to get him to stay his hand, Brahms still moving to strike down the Valkyrie. Hard and fast had been his intent, but that brief glimpse of her eyes had distracted him to the point he had actually hesitated. It had slowed down his strike, the Valkyrie having had time to bring her sword forward in a defending strike that nearly sliced off his claws and the fingers that they were attached to.
It should have annoyed him. Instead it had nearly stolen a laugh from him, Brahms finding he had been growing excited to fight her. It was not a feeling he had been used to, nor was Brahms accustomed to drawing out a fight, and certainly not for such a flimsy excuse as to hold on to a foreign emotion. But draw it out he had, giving a command that had held back his warriors, Brahms having intended to spar with the battle maiden alone.
That had surprised her, the briefest flicker of it showing in her eyes. It had made him wonder what she had heard of him, if she had thought him so craven and cowardly as to rely on others to do his fighting for him. But he had never been the type of fighter to overwhelm an opponent with an unfair advantage, and it would have been a sore day in Nifleheim before Brahms himself could not handle one young woman. Even if she was a Valkyrie with eyes that had stirred emotions within him.
There had been fighting all around them, his vampires and her einherjar battling against one another. But that soon came to an end, the two sides having called an unspoken truce to instead watch over the figures of their commanders doing battle. The vampires and einherjar had kept their distance from each other, one eye at all times remaining on their enemies as with the other, they had watched Brahms and the Valkyire fight. The battle maiden had had decades of practice with her sword, but Brahms? Brahms had had centuries on her when it came to combat. That and the difference in strength between them had made them both painfully aware of how unmatched the Valkyrie Goddess was in comparison to the Vampire King.
And yet he hadn't struck a killing blow, more intent on playing with her than anything. Her incensed reaction upon the realization of what he had been doing had amused Brahms, the vampire King thinking it funny when she had demanded he hurry up and finish with her.
"Are you that eager to die?" He had asked her, and something had shown in her eyes. It had been that tiredness again, a resignation that shouldn't have belonged in her expression. It wasn't that she was suicidal, never that, but something which he had not been able to guess at, had made her weary. Of life, or perhaps of the endless battles that the Valkyries must take part in.
Save for that look in her eyes, the Valkyrie hadn't answered him, not with actual words at least. With a challenging scream, she had thrust out her sword, aiming for his heart. It had been a last ditch move, more desperation than anything on her part. Neither she nor Brahms had believed she'd hit him. If anything, it had been an attempt to anger him enough to finish the fight, to quit his game with her. He had still been taken with her eyes, the blue so expressive in that moment. He had just barely managed to catch her sword in his hand, the blade's sharp edges slicing open the palm so that his blood fell to the ground between them.
They had exchanged a long look, the Valkyrie glaring defiance at him. He had simply plucked the sword free of her grip, and thrown it towards his vampires. Without even pausing, he had then swept her feet out from under her, the Valkyrie having landed on her back. He'd land on top of her, Brahms' claws on her throat, his blood dripping onto her. She hadn't look frightened, nor had she closed her eyes to block out the sight of what should have been her death leering down at her. Instead she had held his gaze, the striking look in those eyes having challenged him to do it, to end her tiredness.
Naturally her einherjar had grown alarmed at the sight, their voices rising in a panic. They had known they'd never be able to reach her in time, not before Brahms could have ripped out her throat. A glance over his shoulder would have shown his soldiers moving to attack hers, but he had stayed fixed on her face. "I do not understand you." He had ultimately said, his tone of voice had almost been conversational.
"What is there to understand?" She had asked in return. "We are enemies...it is our duty to fight, to continue to fight until one side is completely wiped out."
"It won't be the undead that dies this day." Brahms had told her. "We are many, and you are but just a handful."
"Others will come to take my place." She had retorted with a sigh. "The fighting will continue....for eternity if need be. It matters not what happens to me...My efforts here, and in the past make little difference in the long run." And that had bothered her, he had read the truth of that plainly off of her honest face. She had wanted to matter, and Brahms had been sure that he hadn't been reading more to it than that. This battle maiden had wanted a reason for her existence, a reason beyond the fighting that she was duty bound to do.
At the time he had thought it a pity that she would never find that reason, Brahms having still been intent on taking her throat. She had meant to be just one more Valkyrie for him to drink of, and then a scream had been heard.
"Silmeria!"
That scream, the Valkyrie's name, had been followed by an arrow. Brahms had heard it whistling as it had soared towards him, the vampire having been forced to let go of the Valkyrie's throat in order to catch hold of the arrow. A new Valkyrie had arrived, a cold beauty with straight, black hair and a known reputation for being ruthless. That one, that Hrist, had been responsible for an impressive amount of deaths, the woman a veritable war goddess of near guaranteed victory. Was it her appearance alone, or that impressive battle record, that had seemed to galvanize the blond beneath him, this Silmeria having knocked him off of her.
Someone had thrown a sword to her, the Valkyrie having caught hold of it. She had immediately set about to trying to take his head, Brahms forced to dance back to evade both her strikes and the arrows that flew towards them both. The tide of battle had been turned, the vampires having had to flee in the advent of the new Valkyrie and her einherjar. He too had had to leave, and yet he had also paused, just long enough to have held Silmeria's gaze. It had been a charged moment that had made him want to linger, a million thoughts coming to life in his head at that time.
It had been one of his Generals that had moved him, the man having hauled Brahms bodily out of the arrows' reach. They had teleported just seconds later, but not before Brahms had shouted out to her. "Silmeria! Live! Live and find your reason!"
The shocked surprise that had blossomed on her face had been worth the arrow that had speared him through the left shoulder. The pain of that blow hadn't been enough to keep him from teleporting, Brahms returning to one of the undead's many camps. The Valkyrie Silmeria had been heavy on his mind, Brahms intrigued with her in a way he had never before been with a woman. And even less so with one that was a known enemy of his!
He had tried to be subtle in his interest, having played it off as though it had been merely a curiosity about an enemy that he had failed to kill. Brahms had let his advisers believe that he was strictly interested in ending the life of the Valkyrie Silmeria. He had even tried to lie to himself that that was where his true interest had laid. And yet he had been haunted by her eyes, by the expression that the beautiful blue had been colored with, a look that had been the same as one Brahms had often worn.
It would take time, but information WOULD eventually come. Bits of it here an
d there trickling in as it had proven difficult for his vampires to get close enough to the Valkyries without it ending in death. Brahms would learn that Silmeria had two sisters, one of which had been the black haired Valkyrie who had interrupted his intent to kill the blonde battle maiden. He would also learn that she was closer to her second sister, the two often seen together on the limited downtime that they had been allowed from the battle field.
A Valkyries' life had proven harder than he had first imagined, their King Odin allowing little if any breaks from the fighting. It wasn't like with Brahms' undead, the groups taking shifts and allowing for enough time between them for each group to suitably rest up. But not the Valkyrie, the battle maidens forced to spend nearly the entirety of their immortal lives out on the battlefield. It was no wonder that Silmeria had seemed tired of it all. She had been out on the battle field as early as the age fourteen, long before her immortality had set in and frozen her at an eternal twenty-two.
That was unusual for a Valkyrie to have been brought into combat at so young an age, but then Silmeria had had two older sisters that she had wanted to emulate. At a time when Silmeria should have been living among the mortals, doing things a young girl should, she had instead been learning about violence and death first hand, acquiring the discipline and the skills need to kill efficiently. She had been put into more life and death situations than any one that young should have been, and by the time she was of eighteen years, she had several vampires' deaths on her hands. It made Brahms wonder if she had ever gotten to experience anything beyond the battlefield, especially with two older Valkyrie sisters to look up to and idolize.
Of course, in between the bouts of information he had gleaned from his spies, Brahms would take part in the conflict’s combat personally. Sometimes he would actually catch sight of blonde hair peeking out from beneath a feathered helm, those long strands gleaming like the sun. Or at least, what he remembered of the sun, Brahms not having witnessed the actual rising of one in several millennia worth of time.
It had been Silmeria who he had seen, though always from a distance, the battle maiden having been fighting with the undead. He had never tried to get near to her, always keeping a distance, though it would have been easy enough to teleport to her and resume their fight. But he hadn’t wanted want to end her life, Brahms sure that it was pity that had stayed his hand, the man wanting her to live for the experiences that she had missed out on.
Truth be known, every sight of her, every bit of knowledge gleaned, had been feeding into an infatuation with her. More information would come to him, Brahms then learning that Silmeria had a lovely singing voice, even if the only songs she had ever sung were that of funeral dirges at the bequest of Odin. Brahms had found himself yearning to hear her song for himself, and it was that desire that had led him to do something foolish. He had undertaken a journey, one to the heart of the enemy's land, to the castle stronghold known as Valhalla.
Of course, an ancient magic had been employed to bespell the stones against the vampires' ability to teleport inside the actual castle. But they hadn’t been able ensorcell the land around the building, Brahms teleporting in as close as he had dared. He had gone dressed in form fitting black, to better blend in with the shadows. And from them he had crept, darting from one dark corner to another, evading the guards as he had made his way about the castle.
He would find her inside an enclosed garden that had taken up space within the South Western part of the castle. There had been a large stone fountain in the very center of the flowers, with large spurts of water that cascaded down it's many sides. Silmeria had been with one of her sisters, the one with the platinum colored hair who he had known was the Valkyrie Lenneth. It had been a rare moment of relaxation between the two, both battle maidens having removed their feathered helms. Silmeria had had her hands in Lenneth's hair, a careful concentration showing in her eyes as she had worked to braid up that long mass of platinum.
They had talked quietly to each other, much of their conversation had been discussions about battles, and the tactics that they needed to attempt a win against the undead. They had seemed to be avoiding all talks of the ritual that would have soon taken place on that very evening, that of the funeral procession that had been set to begin in less than an hour's time. It was because of that funeral procession that Brahms had snuck into the castle, the man intent on hearing the Valkyrie's song for the departed warriors.
Lenneth and Silmeria had talk a while more, though it had been strange talk for two sisters. But he had been quick to realize that to the Valkyrie, they had no life other than that of the battle. It had been all either one had known, and thus all their topics had been such as to reflect their limited life experience. They had had no mortal ties left, what with their parents having long been dead for centuries. It hadn’t been just their parents, but the people of the village that the sisters had spent their childhoods in. The people and perhaps even the village long gone, and with their passing, went all of the three sister’s ties to the mortal realm of Midgard.
No friends, no family, and no children of their own, the pair had been as virginal in nature as any other Valkyrie could be. There had been no lovers, secret or otherwise for them to giggle about. Frankly Brahms hadn’t been able to imagine a battle maiden doing something as girlish as that, especially ones as war hardened as these two had been reputed to be.
A gong had then rang, the two Valkyries having glanced up as startled birds took flight overhead. Silmeria would hand Lenneth her helm, the Valkyrie then carefully placing it over her hair so that not even one strand of it was drawn out of place But when she had moved to leave, she had noticed that Silmeria had lingered by the fountain. "Aren't you coming?"
"You go on ahead. I shall follow you soon enough."
"If you're sure." Had come the reply, the Valkyrie Lenneth then walking out of the gardens to step into the inside of the castle. Silmeria would then continue to sit perch on the fountain's edge, staring off into the distance. Brahms had thought her lost in deep thought, but the truth would turn out to be far different, the woman having suddenly spoken out loud.
"I know that you are there."
That had startled HIM, Brahms having shifted so suddenly that his back had hit and disturbed a loose stone in the wall behind him. Pebbles had clattered to the floor, and Brahms could have blushed from his clumsiness. He hadn't expected her to have sensed him, for ANY of the Valkyrie to have even been able to know that a vampire was there. Especially now when he had been so determinedly cloaking his energy from them. That Silmeria had, Brahms hadn’t known what to make of it, the thought as surprising as it was pleasing to realize that the woman might indeed be more attuned to him than he had ever dared dream.
"Well? Out with you now!" Silmeria had demanded, her voice having sounded impatient.
He had been more bemused than anything then, Brahms practically having shuffled his feet as he had moved to step around the shadowed corner he had hidden himself before. As the torch light had brought his features into focus, Silmeria had done something shocking. The young woman had gasped, her eyes having grown huge as she had scrambled up out of her seated position. Her hand had already been reaching to draw out her sword, and it had been clear by the loss of her relaxed energy, that it was not Brahms that Silmeria had expected to see.
Even as he had reacted to her movement, Brahms had had the time to wonder just who she had been expecting. Was she about to partake in some secret rendezvous? One that not even her sister Lenneth had known about? That thought had made something like jealousy spark in him, irrational as it might have been. Valkyries were almost always virgins, their duty to the Gods and to the war such that they had no time or reason to make way for a lover. And yet Brahms had feared that Silmeria might again prove to be an exception, the vampire king dearly having hoped it had not been a lover but instead some messenger that had to do with the endless war. Either way, if someone had come, regardless of their intentions, Brahms would have killed the
m then and there.
But for that moment he had had to deal with a shocked Valkyrie, Brahms' lunge having put him in reach of her. His right hand had closed around her wrist, squeezing down around it until Silmeria had been forced to drop her sword. As it had clattered to the ground, his left hand had been going across her mouth, in order to stifle her scream. Brahms had known how he could not allow her to raise the alarm that would alert the people inside the castle to his presence here in Valhalla.
Her blue eyes had narrowed into a glare, Brahms having stared back into them. He had had her restrained, but the vampire hadn't known what he had intended to do with her next. Brahms hadn't expected to actually initiate contact with her that night, and he had been loathe to even consider ending her life then and there. For the first time in a millennia, the great undead king had been rendered speechless, the vampire having practically stuttered as he had tried to think of what he could possibly say to her.
She had taken the initiative for him, her teeth clamping down on the inside of his hand. He had grunted, more in surprise than in pain, and more than a little shocked by her audacity. Not many of the Asgardians would have dared risk being tainted by a vampire's blood, and yet she had risked exactly that all in order to dislodge his hand from her mouth. It had been a failed tactic, Brahms instead having squeezed her wrist harder, his strength such that it stopped just short of cracking the bones there.
"You little minx." He hadn’t been able to help but be amused, watching as the anger had filled her eyes. "If you promise not to scream, I'll uncover your mouth..." The poison filled look she had given Brahms had told him that she wasn't ready to give a vampire such a promise. It had seem he'd have to resort to making threats, and as he had prepared to try and scare her into behaving, she had suddenly bit him a second time!