by GR Griffin
Once again Lenneth wondered how desperate Odin had become, and just what the situation was like up in Asgard. How dire had it become, how close to losing what mattered were they at? Lenneth needed to speak with Odin, to demand answers from her King. But Lenneth knew she'd never be granted an audience after her exile from Asgard.
"Do I disgust you?" Lezard's voice cut into her thoughts, Lenneth blinking quickly at him. "Now that you know the nature of my magic?"
"Yes." She instantly retorted, then her voice softened. "And no." A questioning look was aimed her way, Lenneth sighing. "I can't hate you completely. I want to, but the enchantment I am under.....even now, even knowing these truths, it works to make me love you."
"I wouldn't have a chance with you otherwise." Lezard noted, having schooled his expression to be blank of emotion.
Lenneth let out a bitter laugh, and nodded. "In any other situation, I would have killed you where you stood."
"Then Odin's enchantment is more blessing than I had first realized." He hastened to explain. "It gives me a chance with you. A chance I mean to take."
"I will fight it...and you." Lenneth warned.
"I'm sure you will." He agreed. "But I meant it when I said I want to cultivate a friendship with you. I want a chance at a relationship, I want the chance to prove I can be worthy of you..."
"You turned unworthy the moment you cast your first black spell." Lenneth's tone was cold then. She meant to hurt him, to let her words have a cutting effect on Lezard.
"Maybe so." He agreed. "But we don't always get to choose our first paths in life." She flashed him a disbelieving look, Lezard returning a bitter smile to her. "After you were born, how long before it Odin put a sword in your hand? Hmmm? I was born in one of Hel's holdings, and when I showed a high aptitude for magic, they were quick to seize on my talents. I was groomed to this role, just as you were groomed to be a warrior for Odin." He shrugged then. "Neither one of us can change the past....it is what it is. But the future is ours to determine..."
"If you truly believed that, you'd cut all ties with Queen Hel!" Lenneth snapped, hands on her hips.
He sighed in response. "There are things you don't understand. It's not so easy to escape Hel's grasp..." The oddest smile quirked on his lips. "Any easier than it is to escape Odin's."
She wasn't as affronted as she could have been, Lenneth still questioning Odin's motives in her head. "Be that as it may. I don't like this. Not the situation, and certainly not you!"
"Believe me when I say I am aware of how strong your dislike is..." That weird smile had disappeared. "Come..." He stepped towards her. "It will be time for the evening meal soon enough..."
"Somehow I find myself not hungry." Lenneth told him. He continued to approach her, but she refused to back up even one step.
"Would you care to rest then? We can save the meal for later."
Lenneth felt as though she had had enough sleep to last her several lifetimes over. But she wanted away, from Lezard and any of the many curious people inside the castle. So she nodded, tone grudging. "Yes, I'd like that."
"Fine." He smiled at her, wisely not attempting to touch her. His touch would have been more than she could tolerate in the moment, Lenneth standing before him stiff with displeasure. "It will give me some time to speak with my people. To school them on how to better conduct themselves around you."
That much Lenneth could appreciate, especially if it meant the scene with Mystina's group wouldn't repeat itself. "Yes, do that." Lenneth couldn't help the commanding tone that had slipped into her voice. Lezard merely chuckled in response, and gestured for her to precede him towards the garden's door. The revealed kitchen would offer tantalizing smells, that almost changed Lenneth's mind about her appetite. But the feast that was being prepared couldn't make Lenneth forget the things she had learned, the Valkyrie's thoughts continuing to be troubled as Lezard led her to the upper levels of the castle.
Chapter 9: Nine
It had been with great reluctance that Brahms had forced himself to stop touching Silmeria. It was with that same reluctance, that the vampire had also stepped away from her. But it had needed to be done, Brahms sensing Silmeria could only tolerate so much of his closeness before she erupted into violence once more. Brahms could handle any attacks that she aimed his way. The room however, could not. Already the bedroom was in shambles, furniture knocked over, some broken during their earlier fight.
There was a dent in one wall, plaster splintered apart from the force of Silmeria's impact. He'd see to it's fixing later, perhaps have a large picture hung directly over the injured part of the wall. There were other things that needed to be fixed, though Brahms thought it might be better to wait until Silmeria learned to calm her temper some. Otherwise it would get costly, constantly replacing the furniture they destroyed during their fights.
Her attack had not been wholly unexpected, though there was aspects of the fight that had taken him by surprise. Brahms had expected Silmeria to be angry, about the way he had stolen her, and forced the vampire transformation upon her. He expected and was ready to tolerate the coming days, ready to wait out her anger as she moved into a period of accepting her new destiny.
But what he hadn't expected was the strength and speed she had exhibited during the fight. Silmeria had been fast, moving with the effortless ease of a much older vampire. She hadn't even needed to think about what she was doing, Silmeria reacting on pure instinct during the fight. She hadn't come close to besting Brahms, but he had had to exert more strength than he cared to admit in order to gain control of her without hurting Silmeria in the process.
The fight left him with much to think about. It wasn't that something had gone wrong with Silmeria's transformation. Not exactly. But there was factors to consider, the least of which being she was the first Valkyrie to ever be made into a vampire. Normally his kind enjoyed the taste of Valkyrie blood too much to do anything but drain every drop. Brahms himself had had difficulty in resisting the call of her blood, though he had miraculously managed to stop just short of killing her dead.
It was only that desperate love he had for Silmeria that had allowed Brahms the restraint to stop from consuming all of her blood. If the Valkyrie in his arms had been anyone else, he wouldn't have been able to stop in time. Nor would he have wanted to. Even now he remembered the pleasure that had gone through him as he drank Silmeria down, the sweetly addicting taste of her blood. It drew his eyes to her neck which was partially covered by strands of her hair. His fangs lengthened in his mouth, Brahms wondering just what Silmeria would taste like now. Would she be even half as sweet as a vampire, as she had been as a Valkyrie?
"Don't look at me that way." Silmeria's voice was an angry growl that drew his eyes up to her gaze. The vivid blue was threatening, the former battle maiden glaring at him. She had surely seen the way he had been looking at her neck, and it wasn't pleasure she felt at his interest. Brahms could have blushed in response to her anger, knowing he had done yet another thing to displease her. What's worse, he had been staring at her, with a hunger that had nothing to do with her as a woman and everything to do with the blood that warmed her veins.
Honestly, it was as though he had reverted to a fledgling, unable to control his base instincts to feed. Another vampiress would have laughed, would have felt flattered and teased him for his interest. He wouldn't have felt any great depth of embarrassment, if the neck he had so admired had belonged to a vampiress who returned his yearning.
He hoped that someday soon Silmeria would want him, both his body and his blood, just as badly as he wanted her. But that day was not yet upon them, even if an hour earlier Silmeria had nearly taken his neck. His gaze heated as he remembered that seductive moment on the bed, Silmeria rising up off the mattress to wrap an arm around him. She had been so close, so damn close to taking the first step towards accepting what she had become. But then something had stopped her, the blood's seductive spell losing it's hold on her, allowing horror to manifest in it's
place.
His neck still bore the scratches she had given him, though they had long since stopped bleeding. But the blood remained, drying in place on his skin. Silmeria was disturbed by the blood. She had gone so far as to demand he wash up, as if that would free her from the compulsion to feed. He hadn't humored her demand, Brahms leaving the blood stains on his skin all to further tempt her towards a feeding.
Silmeria was showing remarkable restraint, somehow managing not to stare at his neck. But the way she went to great lengths to avoid looking at the blood let Brahms know just how affected she truly was by it's presence. She was hungry, and it was a hunger that would only grow worse the longer she denied herself. Brahms didn't want her to go through the suffering of starvation, but there was little he could do to force her to feed. He could as her sire, use a compulsion to take over her mind but Brahms knew it would only make Silmeria hate him. She needed to drink the blood of her own free will, or else she would never come to accept her new life with him.
He couldn't compel her, but he could tempt her in different ways. That included stepping in close to her, allowing Silmeria to better scent the blood on his skin. Alarm flared in her eyes, Silmeria taking a step back from him. But not before her eyes had narrowed in on his neck, the tip of her tongue touching her bottom lip in longing reaction to the blood she saw there.
Brahms would outwardly pretend not to notice the reaction she had had. It would keep her anger down, might lull her into relaxing one step closer to feeding. She couldn't know what he was attempting, and yet Silmeria darted to the left of him. She fled to the other side of the bedroom, as if distance could help ease her hunger pangs. Brahms knew no matter how far she tried to run, the hunger would never leave her. Not until she sunk her fangs into a vein of whatever creature she could find. In the end, it would not matter if her prey was mortal, vampire, or Valkyrie. She would feed.
He intended to be there when she did. But he didn't want to just witness her first feeding, Brahms wanted to be a part of it. He'd gladly offer up some of his potently powerful blood, knowing the feeding would only strengthen intimacy between them. To be fed on was a pleasurable thing, provided you didn't struggle against it.
Running his tongue over his fang's tips, he turned not to Silmeria, but to an overturned chair. He'd effortlessly right it, then take a seat on it's cushions before looking at Silmeria. His eyes devoured everything about her, from the blood on her dress, to her wild and uncombed hair. He especially liked looking at her mouth, where the barest hint of fangs were revealed over her lips. Silmeria hadn't yet learned how to hide her fangs when she spoke, and thus with every word, every expression, her fangs were revealed to him.
Silmeria would have had a fit if she had known just what she was showing him. Silmeria was full of loathing, despising every aspect of her vampiric nature. Especially that which gave away what she was now, like the claws on her fingers. Those long, deadly sharp claws were being run over the front of her dress' skirt, the repetitive motion a clear sign of her agitation. That the claws hadn't reverted back so that her hands looked normal, was another sign of how upset Silmeria was. Brahms knew if she would only take a moment to center herself, and find a way to calm down, she could regain control over her hands' appearance.
The fangs however, were something that would take time for her to learn how to control. Even Brahms sometimes had difficulty, when an especially potent emotion took him over. The fact that his fangs were constantly lengthening around Silmeria, was merely proof of just how she affected him. For good and for bad. His fangs lengthened for several reasons, the chief most being hunger and arousal. And around Silmeria he felt both, heat scorching his gaze every time he glanced her way.
He didn't fool himself into thinking Silmeria was experiencing desire towards him. Not this early in their courtship. If her fangs were lengthening beyond her control, it had simply to do with the hunger she continued to deny. But someday Brahms hoped Silmeria would look upon him, and feel just as strong a desire as he did for her. Sometimes Brahms worried about how strong his feelings already were for Silmeria. How much worse would they become as his bond with Silmeria deepened? If there was one thing that was new territory for Brahms, it was the unfamiliar feelings of love he now felt.
That love did not make him careless, though it did make him feel a bit unsteady. In all of the millennia he had existed for, love was the one thing he had never had. It was also something he hadn't realized he was missing in his life, not until he had found Silmeria, and grown to want her. Want her so badly it actually hurt. That hurting was lessened now that Brahms had Silmeria in his possession, though the flames of desire had not cooled one iota. If anything they were fanned by her transformation, Brahms eager to groom her into the perfect Queen to rule by his side.
Silmeria wouldn't fall into her role as Queen of the Vampires overnight. She needed time, both to accept what she was, and to ingratiate herself among their people. Brahms knew it wouldn't be easy. Silmeria was her own worse enemy when it came to accepting her nature, and she had done much to the undead during her tenure as Valkyrie. Brahms would face opposition not only from Silmeria, but from the undead as well.
It was yet one more reason he was loathe to introduce Silmeria to vampire society. Though his prime reason was motivated by pure selfishness. He didn't want to share Silmeria with anyone. Not while this love was so new to him, Brahms wanting to savor every experience they could have together. He told himself that it was concern for both Silmeria and his people, that he kept her captive in this room. But in truth he just didn't want anyone else to monopolize Silmeria's attention.
Perhaps it was dirty, to try and force a bond between them this way. But Brahms felt certain that without his pushing Silmeria, the girl would never, ever give him a chance to woo her. And all because of what they had been born as, Valkyrie and Vampire, the two immortal enemies. Brahms thought destiny surely had an ironic sense of humor to make the two soul mates. It was humor he did not share, Brahms remembering how close he had come to ending Silmeria's life that first meeting between them.
It might have saved them both a lot of pain and heartbreak if one of them had died that day. But then, Brahms would have never known that such an exhilarating feeling could exist, that his heart could beat for something other than battle. Knowing what he knew now, how could Brahms be anything but indebted to the Valkyrie Hrist, whose arrow had prevented him from killing Silmeria?
He found himself wanting to smile, and did not fight the curving of his lips. Silmeria looked at that expression of mirth with suspicion. It was clear she didn't trust anything that gave Brahms pleasure, no matter what that something could be. But she didn't break her silence to question him. It seemed Silmeria was determined to ignore him as best she could, even as it was blatant that the girl was keeping a close eye on Brahms to ward off any approach of his.
Brahms could play the silence game just as well as Silmeria. Play it and win if he so chose. But he found himself wanting to break the silence, wanting to hear Silmeria's voice even if all she spewed was threats and insults.
Completely relaxed in his chair, Brahms did a slow once over of Silmeria's body. Those clawed hands of hers clenched into fists. She did not like how blatantly he looked at her. But he did not linger inappropriately on her body, not even on her beasts which still held some dried splatters of blood on them. He ignored the quickening of his pulse, and forced himself to meet her angry gaze. She seemed even more hostile now, glaring at him.
"You must have many questions." Brahms said, giving her an invitation to pick and pry at his vast wealth of knowledge. She had to learn about being a vampire eventually, and what better teacher could she have than the King of the vampires? But Silmeria wasn't seizing on the opening he gave her, continuing to glare at him. He didn't let her angry look affect him. "I'm sure there is much you do not know about the vampires."
"I know plenty." Silmeria interrupted him. He didn't quite laugh, the sound more rude snort than anything.
"And what side is that?" She demanded.
"That of the enemy." Brahms said plainly. "Silmeria, you've only known vampires through this endless war. Before me, you've never had the chance to speak with one. Never had the chance to look upon one with anything but hatred and contempt, maybe even fear."
"Valkyries do not fear your kind!" She interrupted with a haughty toss of her head. He didn't bother to correct her that she was Valkyrie no more, instead choosing to walk Silmeria into a trap of her own making.
"Then you won't be afraid to get to know my people." That had Silmeria blinking rapidly in response. It didn't hide the startled look in her eyes, Brahms wanting to chuckle in response to it. "I can guarantee we will surprise you. We are not the monsters Odin paints us to be. Not completely."
"You drink blood." She pointed out, and Brahms nodded.
"That we do. But what race in all of Creation doesn't exist by feeding off another?" Her brow furrowed, Silmeria disturbed by that. "It is the cycle of life, one being giving up it's essence so that another can survive."
"But no one feeds off of the vampires." Silmeria protested, as though she had found a surefire fault in his line of reasoning.
"Except other vampires." Brahms retorted. "It is not as...nourishing as feeding off of a mortal, but on occasion...." A shrug of his shoulders then. "We do what we must in order to survive. Just as any race does."