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OSVP	By : LotornoMiko Category: +S through Z > Valkyrie Profile Views: 1214 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or the charcters from it. I make no money off of the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-OSVP
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty One
- 22-Twenty Two
- 23-Twenty Three
- 24-Twenty Four
- 25-Twenty Five
- 26-Twenty Six
- 27-Twenty Seven
- 28-Twenty Eight
- 29-Twenty Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty One
- 32-Thirty Two
- 33-Thirty Three
- 34-Thirty Four
- 35-Thirty Five
- 36-Thirty Six
- 37-Thirty Seven
- 38-Thirty Eight
- 39-Thirty Nine
- 31
- 32
- 33
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!"

"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 searching 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.

"So he's done it." Brahms grumbled. "Odin has finally taken the throne."

Hel looked even more distressed, glumly nodding her head. "He couldn't put it off forever. There was things that needed to be done. And you..." She gasped, and covered her mouth before she could finish her sentence.

"And I am dying." Brahms finished for her. Hel did not try to protest, though silent tears trailed down her cheeks. It made him wonder how much longer he had to live, Brahms sighing as he leaned against the pillows. "It is good that we have a King at long last." Brahms told her. "We need a strong ruler, one that can guide us during this time of crisis..."

"It should have been you on that throne with him!" Hel exclaimed, coming over to the bed.

"We can't focus on the shoulds. It appears Fate had a different plan for me, than to rule over Creation with my brother." Hel looked ready to fling herself on him, but he distracted her with a request. "Please...I'm thirsty..."

But it wasn't water he wanted, not when it would do nothing to appease the hunger inside him. He remembered his most recent dream, Brahms staring uneasy at Hel. He remembered how she had looked in his mind, all torn open to be a red ruin that only excited some unnatural beast inside him. And yet he couldn't look away from her, not even now while suffering from shame and disgust. He watched her every movement, Hel hurrying away to pour him a glass of water. He watched her like a cat might watch a mouse, unconsciously stalking his prey.

He hadn't realized then what he was doing, but Silmeria had. He was hungering for Hel, lusting after her life and vitality. When Hel returned to the bed, he used the pretext of the offered glass to touch her. To bump her hand, and cause the glass to overturn, the water spilling everywhere.

Hel immediately gasped. "Oh, I am so sorry!" She pulled out her handkerchief, though it was too small. It held no hope of soaking up enough of the spilled water.

"It was my fault." Brahms told her, eyes narrowing in on her as Hel bent over him. She began to attempt to mop up the water, her hands brushing over his wet shirt. It felt good to be touched by her, Brahms licking his lips. A deep blush bloomed in the Goddess cheeks, Hel realizing his shirt would have to come off. Brahms offered no resistance, allowing the closeness the pretext of removing his shirt offered them. Her hands seemed to shake, Hel fumbling as she concentrated on opening the buttons of his shirt.

Brahms' stared at her the entire time, his gaze unwavering. Sometimes he trailed downward, lingering on the cleavage her dress exposed to him. He saw the rise and fall of her chest with her breath, imagined the heart beating beneath her skin. His teeth began to HURT, Brahms lifting his gaze towards the necklace she wore. It matched the dress, all sapphires and diamonds that were coiled tight around her throat.

It was an extravagant piece, and it suited her. It showed off the smooth ivory of her skin, Hel pale from all the time she had spent in Brahms' bedroom. Brahms found himself staring at it, noting the long and elegant line of her neck. He had never noticed how beautiful a woman's neck could be, how erotic the sight of her hair pulled back from it would prove. But now, with Hel's long hair coiled up in an elaborate bun, he noticed. And he liked what he saw, Brahms licking his chapped lips.

"You're staring." Hel said, her blush deepening. Brahms barely registered her words, to enamored with her neck. Something was happening to him as he stared at it, some kind of change that set every nerve on fire within him. He tingled with awareness, with HUNGER. It made him want to put his lips to her throat, to kiss that pale, delicate flesh. To do more than just kiss it, to bite it.

Without even thinking, he had touched her. Hel had gasped, but did not fight him as Brahms pulled her against his chest. "Brahms?" She whispered, and he startled, realizing he had been leaning down towards her neck. He felt ashamed, a harsh thought in his mind reminding him this was no dream but reality. He couldn't, shouldn't do anything to Hel.

The Goddess sensed that a change had come over him, sensed the way he was inwardly pulling away from her. "Don't..." Hel whispered a plea, lifting her hands up to touch his face. "Don't pull back. Don't stop yourself from what you want to do..."

"You don't know what you ask for..." Brahms whispered hoarsely. He could see in her eyes she didn't, knew Hel would run screaming if she knew the dark urges that were screaming through him.

But she didn't know, she was woefully ignorant of how he wanted to HURT her. Eyes trusting and with an innocence that perversely pleased him, Hel began tugging his face down towards hers. He didn't even try to resist, sealing his mouth overs her, kissing her roughly and with more energy than he had previously shown in weeks. He wanted her so badly, wanted the life and vitality she possessed.

Brahms actually began growling as he kissed her. Hel began trembling in his arms, returning the kiss with inexpert eagerness. She sighed when he pulled back from her, eyes heavy lidded with pleasure. A pleasure that continued, Brahms kissing down onto the front of her throat. "Oh yes...yes...don't stop." Hel begged him. "Please!

"I..." Brahms' hand went to her throat, fingers carefully touching over the many stones of her necklace. "I won't." He suddenly promised her with a growl. It was a low, animalistic sound that should have frightened any sane thinking woman.

Silmeria didn't know what Hel thought of Brahms' growl. But she heard her gasp, the necklace being torn from her. The jewels scattered everywhere, and then Hel screamed. Brahms had bitten through the skin of her neck, sinking his newly elongated fangs into her pulse. Hel's body had gone rigid, she was struggling against him, crying out in pain. But Brahms wouldn't let her go, greedy, hungry grunts coming from him as he drank down her blood.

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To be Continued...X_X

Michelle
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