by GR Griffin
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Chapter 32 : Thirty Two
The rest of the night passed quickly, faster than Silmeria would have liked. She felt the coming of the sun, felt it's rising deep down inside her. It was as though she had an internal alarm, one alert to the sun's passage in the sky. The vampire mages continued to weave their magic, to crowd the sky with storm dark clouds. It did not matter that the sun could not be seen, she knew it was there. And with it's appearance, a lethargy overtook her.
Brahms would explain to her that it had to do with how young she was, how newly turned a vampire Silmeria was. He told her it would take time to build up a resistance to the lethargy that came with the sun's rising. It wouldn't be an instantaneous thing, it would take her several hundred years before she could stay up during the day. It bothered Silmeria, the girl not liking this perceived weakness. Nor was she reassured by Brahms' promise to watch over and protect her.
There was a lot about Brahms that did not reassure Silmeria. She was troubled by how pleasurable she had found the act of feeding, at how good his blood had tasted. It had aroused her, made her feel in a way she had had little experience with before. In fact, the only experience Silmeria had to compare feeding to, was that night on the back roads of Idavoll. The night when Brahms had kissed her for the first time.
It was disturbing to think feeding could be as arousing an experience as kissing had proven to be. But her body had reacted, her nipples stiffening, aching with arousal. Even between her legs, she had grown damp with desire, her body readying her for possession. She had desired Brahms then, needed him. But she hadn't acted on those desires, trying to tell herself it had nothing to do with an attraction between them, and everything to do with the fact that he had been her food.
But he was so much more than that! Even Silmeria could recognize that Brahms was no simple prey, but all predator. Yes, he had been her meal, but it had been of his own choosing. If Silmeria had wanted to take his blood by force, she would have never succeeded. He was simply that much more powerful than her. He might always be stronger, and all because he had been a vampire for far longer than Silmeria.
But just how long he had existed, she did not know. And when she had asked him his age, Brahms had merely smiled. He told her to search the memories his blood had given her, his tone challenging. He knew as well as Silmeria did, that she was afraid of what she would discover. But what fear was stronger? That Brahms told the truth about Odin, or that he had lied?
Either way, Silmeria had hesitated, using up the last precious hours of the night in fighting against the memories. They wanted to come to her. They would appear in flashes, Silmeria seeing faces. Some she recognized, some she didn't. But she never lingered on the people and places that came to her, using her own stubborn will to deny the memories a chance of taking root.
It left her tired, all from battling a foe inside her. All too soon the sun had risen, leaving Silmeria to struggle to stay awake. She'd actually collapse, her crumpling form being caught in Brahms' strong arms. She'd be rendered too weak to do more than protest with words, Brahms lifting her up and carrying her over to the bed. She didn't want to sleep, and yet he laid her down, lingering over her form with an odd look in his eyes.
Brahms would advise her to give in, to take the sleep her body so desperately needed. She would be stubborn, trying to shake her head no, even as her eyes grew heavy. Silmeria could remember whispering something, a moan of sound. "Don't want to dream." She had told him. "Don't want to see...."
She thought she heard him answer. Thought Brahms had said something about it being too late for that now. But Silmeria had already closed her eyes, sleep overtaking her in what felt like an instant. Her body relaxed, her senses dulling. Nothing would disturb her sleep now. She would sleep until the sun went away, rising with the moon, alert and alive once more.
Now she had no choice but to dream, to visit the memories she had gained from Brahms blood. Silmeria was frightened as she slept, a thought making her wonder if it would have been wiser to examine his memories while awake. If only so she wouldn't be trapped in an endless nightmare, his memories perhaps proving more than she could bear.
Her body was relaxed, but Silmeria's mind was tense, her thoughts agitated. It did not make for good dreaming, Silmeria fighting, struggling against the fragments. They came faster to her, faces flashing by. She'd see the vampires she had met so recently, even ones she remembered killing during the never ending war. She'd see Valkyries, ones that had died at Brahms hands. And she would see the Gods, Odin appearing again and again.
But the brief flashes of him confused her. Odin appearing relaxed in many of them, actually smiling sometimes. But the smile didn't always reach his eyes, his looks cold and calculating one instant, amused the next. Silmeria didn't understand why Brahms would have memories of Odin looking that way, and all because the two men had limited contact with each other. If anything, Odin should have been incensed, or disdainful, ready to kill Brahms in an instant.
As she puzzled over this, the flashes continued. Until she found herself in a bedroom. It was a lavishly appointed affair, the walls gleaming with gold and jewels. Silmeria reacted in an instant, realizing this was one of the many rooms inside castle Valhalla. But how would Brahms know what one of the bedrooms looked like? It made no sense to her, Silmeria frowning as she looked around.
She tried to cringe away when she saw the sunlight streaming in through the open window. But then she remembered this was only a dream, a memory. And memories of the sun could not harm her, no matter what Silmeria's reality actually was. She returned her gaze to the window, realizing that in this dream, she was disoriented. A disorientation born of the newly awakened. She wanted to go back to sleep, to burrow against her soft pillows.
But an insistent knock was on the door. Silmeria felt herself scowl, a voice coming out of her. It shocked her, all because the voice was male, a deep baritone that was very familiar ~Brahms.~ She thought to herself, hearing him bid the servant to enter.
It was an einherjar male who entered the room. He wore an apologetic look, bowing deeply to Silmeria. She was shocked, wondering why she sounded like Brahms, and why he would be in Valhalla. Why the einherjar wouldn't attack him on sight.
"Yes, what is it?" Silmeria heard Brahms ask.
"Pardon me for such an early intrusion. But it is your father..."
"My father?" Instantly the body Silmeria inhabited, was alert. "What is it?" She could feel herself trying not to think the worst, but inwardly she was worried. This body she inhabited, loved the man he knew as his father. Loved and fear for him, the man's health poor.
"It's not good news..." The einherjar's expression turned even more downcast. "He bids you and your brother to come at once."
~Brother?!~ Silmeria was surprised, then wondered why. It stood to reason that once Brahms had had a family. She must be seeing him before he had become a vampire, before he had had to leave behind everything of his mortal life.
"I will be there at once." Brahms told the servant. The einherjar would nod, and leave. The door would close behind him, Brahms already shrugging out of the bed. There was no time to shower, the man hurrying to pull on his clothes. Silmeria tried not to look as the body she currently inhabited got dressed, trying to turn his gaze elsewhere. But it wasn't a memory she could control, Silmeria forced into seeing, doing, FEELING everything the body felt.
That included looking in a mirror, Silmeria reacting in shock at the sight that greeted her. It was Brahms and yet it wasn't, the man's skin not as dark as she remembered. His hair was a dark brown, long enough to reach down past his shoulder blades. It was an unruly mess, disheveled from bed. He ran all too human nails through his hair, not bothering with a brush.
Silmeria was studying his face, noting his eyes were a vivid blue color rather than the crimson she was so familiar with. He had an aristocrat's nose, leaving Silmeria to realize that at some point in the future someone had broken Brahms nose. It
had not healed right, changing the look of his face slightly. But he was still handsome, with a strong jaw, and sensual looking lips.
Finally Brahms was cursing, grabbing something off the dresser's top. It was some sort of tie, the man pulling his unruly mane into a pony tail. It seemed he had given up trying to tame his mane, too concerned with his father to really worry about his own appearance.
He would move, leaving the room and stepping out into a near empty hall. There was no doubt about it to Silmeria. This WAS Valhalla! She still didn't understand what Brahms was doing here. He was someone of importance judging by the room he had been given. That ruled out his being an einherjar. There wasn't many options left to her, Silmeria wondering if at one point Brahms had somehow been an ally of Odin's.
It wasn't unheard of for those who sought alliances with Odin to be allowed to stay at castle Valhalla. Nor was it exactly common. Perhaps Brahms was an emissary of sorts, but then why was a sickly father with him? She just didn't understand, feeling impatient as Brahms walked them through the castle. There were einherjar moving about, dressed not for the battlefield, but as servants. These servants would bow as Brahms passed by, once again leaving Silmeria to wonder at his status.
They would go to a part of Valhalla Silmeria wasn't familiar with. She didn't often have reason to go to where so many of the Gods made their bedrooms, let alone the large apartment given to the King of the Gods. But that is where Brahms took her, several solemn face einherjar bowing to him. He ignored them all, but his anxiety mounted. Brahms could read the atmosphere, and knew his father was surely dying.
With that knowledge came sadness, Brahms already mourning the loss of his father though it had not yet come to pass. He'd stop in front of the large door made of carved ivory, his hand raising to knock. Almost before he released it, the door was opened, a visibly anxious woman standing there. Silmeria felt her third shock of the dream, an angry hiss curling through her.
She wasn't the ruined beauty Silmeria was familiar with. Both sides of her face were perfect. There was none of the numerous scars and burns that ruined one half her face and body. What had always hinted at beauty, now proved it, the Goddess stunning.
"Brahms!" The Goddess had hair that flowed down past her hips, colored a purple so dark it was almost black. There was no diadem in place on her head, and the Goddess wasn't in her familiar dark colors. Instead she was garbed in a forest green colored gown, buttoned up to her neck, though there was a square cut out to reveal her cleavage.
"Lady Hel." Brahms did a distracted bow, barely noticing her beauty the way Silmeria had. "How is he?"
Her face became even more pronounced with her distress, Hel's eyes lowering. "He..." She never got to finish what she was about to say, another man's voice calling out to Brahms.
"Come here...come join me and your brother, Brahms." That man's voice was weak, hoarse as though he had been coughing for a long time now. "I would speak with you both..."
"Yes, father. At once." Brahms said, as Hel stepped aside to allow him into the room. A man was standing with his back to Brahms, gazing at the man who lay in the bed. The standing man had silver colored hair, cut short on his neck. He would turn at Brahms' approach, and Silmeria had to fight to keep from gasping.
~ODIN!~
Odin and Brahms exchanged nods, the Gods' eyes looking so serious, so downcast. Brahms would walk past him, and go to kneel down besides the man, his father's, bed.
"Father." Brahms' tone was reverent, he reached for the ailing man's hand. Silmeria looked at the sickly man in the bed, and saw not an old man weathered by age, but a God who should have been in his prime. He had brown hair as dark as Brahms, but his eyes reminded her of Odin's. So much that she turned to look back at the God, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
"It is good of you to come so quickly..." The God in the bed was saying. "Both of you need to hear this..."
"Father, please...conserve your strength." Brahms urged him. Silmeria was frowning, not understanding how Brahms could call a God his father. She didn't want to believe what was right before her face, didn't want to think that Brahms might have a blood relation with this sickly God.
"Yes, father." Odin added his voice to Brahms' concern, Silmeria trying not to gasp. Odin and Brahms were brothers? She didn't know what was more shocking....that the two were related, or that Brahms was a God. "You must rest." Continued Odin. "You must not..."
"There's no more time!" The God in the bed grit out harshly. "Every second is precious...I cannot waste anymore. Sons...you must know. I will not recover from this."
"Father no!" protested Brahms, squeezing his hand. "There's still a chance....Let Eir try again. Surely she could..."
"The Goddess of Healing has done everything that she can for me." The God retorted. "There is no saving me. I will die. I will not even last out the day!"
Brahms' distress was apparent, his head bowing over the hand he held. Odin would move, coming around to the other side of the bed. He too would kneel, gripping his father's other hand. The God lay there, hands held by both of his sons, and the struggle was visibly on his face. He fought to hold on, to keep on living just for a few minutes more. It was a struggle that seemed to age him before their eyes, lines and cracks appearing on his skin.
"Before I die...there are things that must be said." The God spoke. From somewhere past Brahms' gaze, Silmeria could hear Hel weeping softly. But Brahms did not look at her, his attention all for his dying father. "Things that must be decided."
"The succession." Odin said, his voice sounding more eager than was proper. Brahms would raise his head, to glare at the silver haired God. But it was their father who spoke, showing he took no offense to what Odin had whispered.
"Yes." Even that seemed to take more strength from the dying God. "The heavens needs a ruler, creation needs it's King."
Brahms looked back to his father, though not before he saw the covetous gleam in Odin's eyes. "Whatever you decide, we will abide by." He said.
"Yes." Agreed Odin. "We will follow through on your last will." His tone was eager, almost smug. But then, Brahms thought Odin had a right to be. As the older brother, succession to the throne should naturally fall to him.
But their father had one last surprise for them, pulling on both their hands. He drew them over his chest, gazing up with glassy eyes. "I want you to share the throne."
"WHAT?!" Odin exclaimed, his voice an angry growl. "Share?!"
"Yes. Creation is big enough that it needs more than one guiding hand." The God smiled, though it was without humor. "Many of the realms are not yet fully formed...they will need the both of you working together, to finish them. To finish them and to guide the people there."
"Father, this is madness." Protested Odin. "We cannot rule together. Make one of us King, and the other his advisor. But do not try to force us to share the throne."
"It is my will!" Somehow the sickly God found the strength to bellow, the very heavens shaking with thunder from his anger. "You will rule together, or not at all!"
"Yes, father." Odin had turned meek, but it was all an act. Silmeria could see the anger in his eyes, the way he glared across the bed at his brother, Brahms.
"Give me your word Odin." The God was staring at his silver haired son now. "Promise me you will abide by my decision. Give me your unbreakable vow....the both of you."
"Of course father, I promise." Silmeria felt the ring of truth in Brahms' words, the power of that promise surging through him. Brahms would do as his father asked, would rule with his brother, Odin over Creation.
"Odin?" The God's voice rasped out, his tone urgent as he looked at his other son. "Your word?"
Odin was struggling not to scowl, his eyes sparking with anger. "I..." He hesitated, the God in the bed growing agitated. At last Odin bowed his head, muttering quickly. "I promise father." Silmeria felt Brahms' surprise, the man not thinking it would have been that easy.
But for the God in the bed, it was, the man
falling back against the pillows with a smile. "Rule well sons. May you prosper and live longer than I have." His hand was no longer gripping but growing limp in Brahms' grasp.
"Father!" Brahms' alarm was further raised, the man clinging to the God's hand. "Father, don't go!" But it was too late, the man's eyes having lost the light of life to them. He was staring, not at his sons but up at the ceiling, face frozen in his last smile. Brahms blinked rapidly, and Silmeria realized he wasn't fighting the release of his tears. "Father!" bellowed Brahms, still clutching at his hand.
"Enough!" Odin growled, lurching away from the bed as though he had been burnt by the hand he had held. "He's dead Brahms. Our father is dead. There is no need to put on an act anymore."
"An act?" Brahms was not so far gone to grief, that he couldn't react to Odin's words. "Whatever do you mean brother?" Silmeria felt how puzzled he was.
"You know what I mean!" Odin pointed an accusatory finger at Brahms. "You've been playing him like a fool, pretending to be the good son. The caring son. When really? You were just greedy for MY inheritance."
Brahms' jaw dropped, and then he snarled. "You damn, bloody fool. This has nothing to do with the throne. Our father is dead. Don't you..."
"It has EVERYTHING to do with the throne!" Odin shouted. "I've waited my whole existence for this moment, for this day! I've spent centuries being groomed for this position, waiting for my chance to take my birthright!"
"I care nothing about your birthright!" Brahms snapped back.
"You wouldn't say that if the positions were reversed!" Odin snarled. "How would you feel then, if the position that should have been yours was taken from you? Given away because your worthless little brother played the caring son in the last moments of your father's death?!"
"WORTHLESS?!" growled Brahms, getting up off his knees. Silmeria felt his anger, felt his hands clenching into fists. Violence was close to erupting, Brahms wanting to attack his brother. "I have never played at anything. I LOVED our father!"