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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
- 33
- 34
- 35
The next days were a new kind of torture for Brahms, the vampire trying to resist with all his might the allure the Goddess and her blood held for him. He didn't care about the healing Hel's blood had given him, didn't care that his body no longer screamed in pain, or that his hair had finally grown back. To Brahms it wasn't a fair trade, what had he given Hel in return for the healing her blood had bestowed upon him? Nothing. His face often burned with shame, Brahms remembering how he had not only taken Hel's blood, but her body. It was double the violation, Brahms neither gentle nor caring towards the Goddess.

Those first few hours were the worse where shame was concerned. Brahms often had to withhold his groans of embarrassment, flashes of memory coming to him, reminding him of the things he had done to Hel. It mattered not that the Goddess had seemed to enjoy herself. Brahms knew he had done her wrong.

He remembered the look in her eyes, the glassy sheen to them that spoke of a mind that was not all there. And that memory would make him moan anew, Brahms knowing he had done damage, perhaps irreparably so, to the Goddess. To her very mind. Something had to have broken, to snap, for the Goddess to come seeking him out. For Hel to have come to enjoy the act that had hurt her so badly the first time.

Even as Brahms stayed hidden, he could hear her. Hel was wandering along the opposite shore of Hvergelmir. Her voice was at times frantic, showing her near desperate need to find him. Other times it was beguiling, seductive even as Hel let out entreaties, trying to draw Brahms out of hiding. The sound of her voice was driving him mad, Brahms gritting his teeth and wishing she would go away.

She didn't. Hel was determined to find him. At times he would hear the sound of ether dispersing, the Goddess not above defending herself against the demons who would seek to prey on her. Even knowing Hel was in danger, was not enough to get Brahms out of his crevasse. That only added to his self loathing, Brahms knowing he should be there, actively defending the Goddess. But he feared going to her, feared that any contact, brief though it might be, would end with him sinking his fangs into her body.

Sometimes Hel broke down sobbing. It was different, worse than the crying she had done at his sick bed. Here the sound was so forlorn, so shattered and broken, it grated on his nerves. Hel's cries were plaintive at times, the Goddess speaking out loud how she didn't understand why Brahms would forsake her. It hurt him to hear her like this, but Brahms felt his abandonment of her was for the best.

The thing inside him didn't agree. The sickness, or parasite as his brother had called it, continued to make it's demands. It was renewed, feeding off the life and vitality Brahms had taken from the Goddess. Even as Brahms flourished, so did the parasite. It would actively feed off his energy, and the fact that so much of the blood went towards healing Brahms, well it only served to quicken his hunger.

Was there ever a moment where Brahms could be at peace? It didn't seem that way. Not to Brahms, and certainly not to Silmeria. Not with Hel a constant presence, her voice always beseeching Brahms to come to her. It would only grow more difficult, Brahms finding as his hunger began to return, the more pressing was his desire to go to her.

Silmeria was right with him as Brahms struggled against himself. She felt his pain, felt the hunger and how it slowly drew everything from him. Felt him ride out the last of his energy reserves, the vampire trying to ignore the Goddess who so foolishly placed herself in danger time and time again. Silmeria felt it all, the self loathing, and the grief he gave into whenever he slipped, whenever he so much as imagined going to Hel, taking her a third time.

The struggle not to feed was a losing battle once Brahms had tasted blood for the first time. The parasite within him would not be denied, slowly taking over Brahms' instincts, urging him forward so that the only thing the vampire knew was the satisfying of his hunger. Silmeria could sympathize, remembering how hungry she had been, how she had suffered with pangs of starvation for the three nights she had denied herself. She realized the hunger only grew worse once a vampire has tasted blood for the first time. As though with the act of satisfying the hunger, it damned you forever to crave more of blood.

It was no surprise to Silmeria when Brahms eventually gave in to his hunger. The very struggle within him, the fight to resist, had only served to weaken him all the quicker. To a vampire, resisting one's hunger was an ultimately futile act. Especially when a food source was so near.

She was with Brahms as he crawled out of his hiding spot. With him as he plunge into the waters of the springs, swimming determinedly towards Hel. She even hungered as he did for the Goddess, Silmeria wanting her blood even though she knew the act would only shame Brahms, make him fill with even more self loathing. In the moment, Silmeria was as much an addict as Brahms was, their drug of choice that warm liquid that flowed in the Goddess' veins.

They'd find the Goddess quick enough, Hel resting on the shores of Hvergelmir. Such was her distressed state that she hadn't bothered to fix her dress, the silk hanging off her in tatters. It left her body obscenely exposed, but Brahms barely took note of her near naked state. His eyes were drawn to her neck, drawn to the scarred side where he had sunk his fangs in twice.

Hel did not wait for the vampire to approach her. She scrambled off the ground, and practically threw herself into Brahms' arms. Even with that sign of her eagerness, Brahms grabbed her. A low, animalistic growl escaped him, the vampire not trusting that Hel would try to escape. But she didn't make an opposing move, instead pressing eagerly against him. Hel's hands would touch him, running over the muscles of his arms, smoothing palms over that broad chest of his.

Neither Brahms nor Silmeria had any patience for Hel's touches. With the preternatural speed of the vampire, Brahms would drive his fangs into her neck. The scarred skin would split open, the warm blood gushing into his mouth. Those first mouthfuls weren't enough to appease him, his stomach still clenching violently in starvation. That would make him pull harder on her vein, drawing in even more blood in a desperate attempt to soothe the hunger.

Hel would moan, her eyes falling close as she gave herself over to the feeding. But she didn't stop touching Brahms. Her hands would slip behind him, feeling down his back. Her nails would scratch over his skin, her hands would cup and knead an ass that was as finely sculpted as the rest of him. Silmeria was uneasy with the liberties the Goddess was taking, something like an unnatural, irrational surge of jealousy filling her. She tried to stay focused on the taste of Hel's blood, but even that was ruined by what the Goddess was doing to the body Silmeria shared with Brahms.

She tried to ignore when Hel's hands pushed Brahms against her, the Goddess rubbing herself against his erection. Tried not to feel the sensation of her nails digging into his ass, or how soft Hel's skin felt against Brahms' hardness. But sex seemed to go hand and hand with feeding, once Brahms had taken enough blood to satisfy his hunger, his appetite and attention turned towards sating his body's desires.

Silmeria could have screamed when Brahms lifted Hel up off the ground. Could have raked her own claws across the memories, protesting the way the Goddess locked her legs around the vampire. Once had been bad enough, but to experience Hel in this manner again? Even with her mind clouded by Brahms' crazed inner predator, Silmeria rebelled against what was being done.

Even worse, she knew with a certainty that Brahms would be horrified once he returned to his senses. Silmeria felt sick with loathing, trying to block out part of Brahms' memories. Trying not to let the pleasure overtake her, Silmeria not wanting to enjoy the acts he did with Hel.

He never kissed her. That was an act too tender, to intimate for what Brahms was doing to Hel. It was no great affection that drove him to mate with the Goddess, no lingering feelings of love and devotion. This was pure need, a pure sating of his lusts. It would be an act repeated, sex and the great self loathing that followed happening two more times before Brahms began to rethink his stance of avoidance.

It was clear that trying to stay away from the Goddess was an impossible act. He was as drawn to her, as she was to him, though he couldn't understand why. This early in his experience, in his memories, Brahms had no concept of what he was doing. He certainly had no reason to expect that the very act of feeding could bind a pair together. That he could have in fact made a blood slave out of Hel.

No, it would take many years, and many feedings before Brahms began to take note of patterns and develop his theories about the vampires. Right now, hidden away in his crevasse, he could only marvel at the fact that Hel constantly sought him out. He was no closer to knowing what he had done, how he had affected her. Her mind was damaged, but not in the way he thought.

It was for the sixth feeding that Brahms went to Hel willingly. He did not even try to wait out the hunger. He would not give it the opportunity to take him over yet again. Nor would he attempt to use Hel beyond feeding off of her. It was time to set limits, to place boundaries on this thing between them. He dared not call it a relationship. It was too one sided for that.

Hel as always, was waiting for him, a dreamy expression on her face. She was never all there, her mind seeming focused only on pleasing Brahms. She still hadn't bothered to clothe herself, as though it did not matter. It was just a sign of how much he had damaged her, because the Goddess had always been one for decorum, prim and proper to the point she would have been scandalized to have them both be naked around each other.

Silmeria noted that Brahms tried to be gentle this time, slowly biting into the scarred side of her neck. Hel would gasp, and let out a low keening sound, her hands clutching at his arms for those first mouthfuls. Brahms kept her hands from moving over his body, the vampire grabbing her wrists, and twisting them behind the Goddess' back. Hel would thrash and move restlessly against him, wanting to touch him, wanting to spur him into taking her.

But Brahms was in control this time, drinking her blood and ignoring his arousal. Ignoring hers as well, Hel whimpering in frustration. When he finally finished feeding, Brahms still held Hel captive, not trusting her to throw herself on him. He still felt disgusted, but nowhere near as much as he would have had he taken her body as well as her blood.

Ignoring his aroused state, he stared at Hel. She stared back, her eyes looking almost feverish in their glassy eyed state. Still holding her, he bowed his head, muttering

a low apology. "I am sorry Hel. Sorry for everything I have done to you. Everything I continue to do."

Confusion flickered briefly in her eyes, the Goddess not understanding the apology. Brahms felt all the worse for her lack of understanding, his eyes drifting away from her face to her body. He noted the dirt, noted the remains of blood and other fluids that had stained her skin. She hadn't been taking care of herself, not even bothering to wash. The guilt filled him, Brahms knowing he was responsible for this.

In perhaps the greatest act of kindness he could still show Hel, Brahms would guide her into the spring with him. There in Hvergelmir's waters, he would start to bath her, working to clean her of all the dirt and grim that covered her. It was an act that only compounded Hel's confusion, the Goddess not understanding the motive behind Brahms actions. She kept trying to touch him, and for that reason alone did he use one hand to restrain her wrists, while the other worked to clean her.

Her clothing was not worth salvaging. He tried not to look at her body once they were out of the water. Hel just stared at him, waiting expectantly for him to either feed again or use her for sex. He did neither, his frustration mounting at the utter trusting manner in which she would give herself over to both acts. It was that frustration that ultimately moved him to speak, Brahms as exasperated as he was guilt ridden.

"Why do you stay with me?" He hadn't expected to get an answer. Brahms had noted Hel almost never spoke, save to whisper or scream his name. "There is no real purpose for you here, no reason for you to be in the underworld."

"I have a purpose." Hel's unexpected answering startled him, Brahms' jaw dropping in shock. Her eyes were still feverish, but Silmeria sensed Hel was actually looking at Brahms. Seeing him.

"A purpose?" Brahms managed to ask.

Hel smiled, the expression dreamy. "My purpose is you. To be with you, to see to your needs, your desires."

That didn't make him feel good to hear, Brahms grabbing her by the arms. "Why do you say that? How can you want to do anything for me, after what I did to you? The pain I caused you, the pain I continue to cause." She just looked confused, making Brahms want to shake her. "I nearly killed you. I still can! Hel, we don't know how often I can feed off you...how much more of this you can take before breaking."

"I would gladly give my life to see you live...thrive..." It was eerie, the words a reminder of something similar she had said at his sick bed. Brahms remembered how Hel had spoken words, a promise about how she would give her life so that he could live. Back then he had felt she meant it, felt as though Hel had made him an unbreakable promise. Was that promise what drove her now, what brought Hel to him? He was uneasy, frowning at her.

"You shouldn't be here." Brahms told her. "You should leave this place...leave me." Hel slowly shook her head no, her smile dimming in response to his words. "Damn it!" He growled. "I am not asking you, I am telling you what you should do! For your own good, stay away from me!" He would have thrust her away from him if Brahms thought she wouldn't come after him.

"That is not what you truly wish for." Hel said with conviction. She placed her hand on his chest, right over where his heart still beat. "I feel you." She continued, tone soft. "I feel your desires, your wants and needs. They call to me...tell me what to do. They draw me to you, invade my dreams until all I can think of is you. I've felt your pain, the hunger that gnaws at you. You've called to me...called for an end to that pain, the hunger. I can give you that end, and I do so gladly."

Silmeria felt Brahms' confusion, not understanding just what the Goddess was talking about. "How can you feel my pain?" he demanded. "How can you know anything about this hunger I feel?"

Hel reached for his hands, bringing them up to her face. She had his fingers press against her temples, Hel smiling as she talked. "You speak to me here." He just stared at her, not understanding. "Your mind touches mine...has touched mine ever since you bound me to you."

"Bound you to me?" He repeated, letting Hel guide his fingers to the scarred side of her neck. "I bound you to me when I bit you?"

"Yes." Hel said, seeming far too happy about that. "I am yours now. Forever."

"Forever..." He whispered, and felt no joy at that. He felt even worse when Hel tied to go up on tip toe, the Goddess wanting to kiss him. Brahms stepped back out of reach, moving fast as though lightning had struck him. Hel's expression distorted, confusion in her eyes for she did not understand why he avoided her lips.

"If...if what you say is true..." Brahms said, when he had regained his composure. "I have done you a great wrong..." Hel just stared at him, as though not understanding what he had said. "I never meant to do this, never meant to bind you to me."

"I do not mind..."

"Forgive me, but you don't seem to have enough free will left to make up your mind either way!" Brahms snapped. Hel did not even look hurt, just standing there ever patient. "I've taken your free will away." He muttered more to himself than her. "I've all but made you my slave..." She was inching towards him again, looking as though Hel wanted to touch Brahms once more.

"I am happy." She insisted, to which Brahms snorted in response. "I am content, so long as I am with you. As long as I can serve you."

But that wasn't what Brahms wanted to hear. Hel's mindless devotion, her happiness was only horrifying him. It made him want to run, to flee her, even as he knew the hunger would make him seek her out. Since Hel's arrival in Nifleheim, Brahms had stopped feeding on the little scavenger demons. Hel's blood was all he wanted, the craving for it driving him to her, again and again. Even if he left now, Brahms knew he would be back.

"You have to leave." Brahms ordered her, tone fierce. "Being here, with me or without, is no good for you!"

"But I...!"

"You were never meant for the underworld. You are a pure creature, a Goddess of light and love. This realm, these demons, even me, are too good for you." He wanted to scream, to howl as he saw she did not understand him. "Hel, I command you. Return to Asgard."

"But that is not your true wish..."

"The damn it is not!" Brahms growled. "I don't know if I can, but if it's possible, I will free you from this enchantment. Until I find the way, you must stay away from me. You must return to your home in the heavens."

"You will change your mind." It was more knowing than she had previously showed, Hel smiling all the while. "When the hunger and desires get out of control, you will call to me..."

"Even if that happens, you must not come to me!" Brahms told her. "For your own good, and my peace of mind, you will remain in Asgard." Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, Brahms stepping forward to seize her by the arms. "Promise me, Hel!"

"I...I will do only what you command of me." She said, her eyes lowering. It wasn't the promise he wanted, but it was better than nothing. He would just have to avoid thinking about Hel, to not even dream about her or how appetizing her blood was. Maybe then this bond between them would be broken, Hel able to stay away from Brahms and the underworld.

"Get dressed." He ordered gruffly, letting go of her. He knew she could still use her powers from the fact she had fought off many demons while in the underworld. Brahms would have Hel make him clothing too. It was a step towards making him feel like less of a monster, and more like a civilized being. He told himself monsters didn't wear clothes, didn't have conversations with Goddesses.

"Return to Asagrd." Brahms would tell Hel once more. "Tell no one where you have been. Especially not Odin."

"Of course. I would not endanger you." Hel bowed her head, ether already sparking around her. He saw the sadness of her smile, the agony it was costing Hel to part from him. But Brahms was determined this would be the last time he ever saw Hel, the vampire wanting to save the Goddess from him and from herself.

It didn't work out according to Brahms' wishes. The hunger that was ever a constant presence in his life returned. He'd tried to wait it out, tried to sate himself on demon's blood. But it was never as fulfilling, never as sweet and sustaining as the Goddess' blood. Even as he tried not to remember the taste of her, he would unconsciously call out to Hel. Invading her dreams with his blatant need for her.

It was a need the Goddess would not ignore. She'd come to Nifleheim again and again, eager to see to Brahms' appetites. Those were perhaps the worse feedings, the taking of her neck and body violent. Brahms always felt worse after she left, horrified over what he continued to do to Hel. He'd even begin to see the futility of keeping them apart, Brahms allowing Hel to make daily trips to the underworld all in order to feed him before his appetites took him over and had him hurt her.

Hel's visits didn't just serve to sate his hunger. She brought him information, Brahms learning of his brother. Odin was busy as King of all Creation. He was seeing to the population of the realms, creating new races to live and prosper under his rule. There was the elves of Alfhiem, the giants of Jotunheim. And among all these races, was the mortals of Midgard.

The humans were Odin's pet project. A short existence whose souls would live on, Odin put all his effort and care into developing this race. The humans were quick to worship the God, to cower in fright of his wrath, and to make daily offerings to earn his blessings. They were still in their infancy, barely better than animals at this point, but already their whole existence was based on pleasing Odin. Their faith and devotion seemed to empower the God, Odin gaining even more strength from their belief.

He had yet to set up a system for the judging of human souls. At the moment they lived and died, only to reincarnate and repeat the cycle. It was still some time away before Odin would set up a warrior's paradise, and damn all the other souls to the demons of the underworld. At that moment, Odin was content, thinking he had no one to challenge his position of power.

It seemed Odin had all but forgotten Brahms. As though he had assumed the vampire had died shortly after his arrival in Nifleheim. The news did not appease Brahms. He was angry that Odin did not think him a threat, even as he was grateful his supposed death had bought him the time to heal. The time not only to heal, but to grow into his strength.

At that time in the memories, Brahms had yet to discover any powers. He had noted the loss of the use of ether, the divine energy just a persistent tingle under his skin whenever he tried to call upon that power. But he was strong, perhaps as strong as when he had been a God. And his speed? It was unnatural, Brahms able to move faster than anything in the underworld.

He had not yet learned to teleport, to mesmerize with his gaze. But the beginnings of the compulsion were there, Silmeria noting he had to have use it in order to bind Hel so thoroughly to him. The Goddess continued to feed him, and only her divine status kept her from withering away from how often she gave up her blood. Brahms continued to feel guilt over what he was doing, over how he was using Hel. And yet he couldn't stop, nor would he risk binding another God or Goddess to him in the manner he had done Hel.

And then one day, Hel's visits stopped. As sudden as she had appeared in the underworld, now she was gone. No amount of hunger pangs could draw Hel to him, Brahms suffering once more. Forced to feed off the many demons, all in a manner to prolong his life. Brahms was losing his strength, the demons' blood unable to do more than sustain his life.

Brahms had no way of knowing what had happened to Hel, or why she had abandoned him. But he realized he had become dependent on her, and not just for her blood. He missed talking with her. Hel had been a fount of information, keeping him abreast of Odin and the other God's doings. She had been his connection to the Heavens, to his old life. She had been his one link to civilization, and without her, he knew only hunger.

How long did Brahms remain in the underworld after Hel had gone? Silmeria could not tell. But he wasn't gaining strength feeding off the demons, wasn't doing anything but prolonging his misery. He needed to find a new food source, and yet he didn't dare return to the heavens. If Odin didn't kill him on sight, any God or Goddess Brahms tried to prey on surely would.

How low he had fallen, Brahms often thought to himself. That he would actively plot to feed on another, to do to them what he had done to Hel. To do what he had once thought he'd never be able to repeat. But his time spent in the underworld, feeding off of the many demons had jaded Brahms. To the point he was certain he'd have no trouble feeding off another.

That certainty, along with his hunger, was what ultimately got Brahms to leave the underworld. But it was not to Asagrd that he went to. He'd emerge out of the underworld, stepping out onto the land of Midgard. It would be nighttime in this part of the realm, the moon just a sliver in the sky. The air smelled cleaner here, free of the sulfur and brimstone stench of Nifleheim.

Midgard was a lot different then from the realm it would become. It was still mainly a lush, green paradise. The mortals had yet to reach the stage of advancement where they would be capable of building cities. They couldn't even make fire, having to steal embers of it when lightning struck the forest, and set trees ablaze. The humans though were crafty enough to keep the fire they stole blazing, and use it to keep away many of the predators that roamed the land. But there was one predator who did not fear the flames. Brahms was that predator, walking into the cave, pretending to be one of them.

The humans were too trusting, too welcoming. They never suspected the monster that was walking amongst them, until after Brahms had began to feed. He didn't do it out in the open, drawing aside a human female. She was not like Hel at all, she died when Brahms savagely tore into her neck. He'd feel remorse later, too busy at the moment drinking down her blood.

The human female wouldn't be the last one to die. Brahms would feed on several more, men and women. He'd have to learn to control his bite, to be gentle instead of rough. He'd learn just how much pressure he could exert to not kill a human, but by that time the mortals' fear and anger were roused. They had put together that the deaths had started occurring just as the stranger Brahms had arrived. Fearful though they were, they attacked him. Sticks and stone weapons being used against him. Brahms did not want to hurt these humans, did not want to kill anymore. But he couldn't allow them to hurt him. He fought back only enough to get away, and all the while feared his punches and throws might have killed even more.

He'd move on, find another settlement of humans. The act would repeat itself, Brahms feeding off humans until they got suspicious of him. And then he would be driven off, sent to find another group. He should have stayed away from them, but his hungry needs guided him. As did the fact that their blood was better than the demons, more nourishing, more empowering. It wasn't anywhere like the blood of Hel's, but it was something that did more than just sustain him. He found the humans were a more than adequate replacement for Hel's blood.

It was a boring time for Brahms. Hs days consisted of finding a place to hide from the sun, while his nights were focused on hunting humans. He missed Hel's companionship, the sound of her voice. These humans could barely communicate with one another, their language still developing. But they began to spread stories about him, about the monster that preyed on them.

Even worse, they began to pray to their God. To beseech Odin to save them from that which fed off of them. Odin might not have paid attention to just one group's prayers. But if was more than just one group, people gathering all across the land. Any settlement Brahms had come in contact with and preyed upon, now knew to fear him. And with that fear they asked for deliverance from the monster that stalked them.

That deliverance would come in the form of a lesser deity. A warrior Goddess that would become known as a Valkyrie. Silmeria startled to get a look at the first Valkyrie, never having dreamed that her kind had been created from the mortal's need of protection from Brahms. The battle maiden arrived in a bolt of lightning, human looking but retaining an air of divinity to her.

The humans fell to their knees in awe and worship, prostrating themselves before the beautiful Goddess. Though she looked human, she was set apart from the mortals, her bearing regal. She was clean where they were dirty, and her clothes and armor were unlike anything the mortals of Midgard had ever seen. Her clean hair was a pale, buttery yellow, and her eyes were a blazing emerald color.

Brahms had been hidden up in a tree, surveying the humans for his next meal when the Goddess had arrived. He had instantly hungered for HER blood, the very divinity that flowed through her veins calling to him. The Valkyrie herself had seemed to know he was there, her emerald gaze lifting to seek him out where he hid. Brahms had felt a prickle of unease, but more than that he had relished the thought of taking down this woman.

In a way, she truly was a gift from the heavens. What Odin had meant to be the monster's destruction, might very well be his salvation. Brahms thrilled at the thought of a divine food source, at the thought of the power that the Valkyrie maiden would give him. It made him careless, Brahms leaping down from the tree branches, to stalk into the crowd.

The humans noticed him, and with screams they scattered. Only a few brave men remained, holding their sharpened stick spears and stone axes. But they didn't dare approach Brahms, just kept a wary eye on him as he stalked towards the battle maiden. She let him approach, drawing her sword when he got but a few inches from her. Brahms barely took notice of the sword, making a near fatal mistake as he lunged to close the distance between them.

That sword of hers did an upwards slash, tearing open both his skin and the shirt Hel had made for him. His blood splattered onto the Valkyrie's armor, and for one-second Brahms was stunned. The Valkyrie allowed a mocking smile to cross her lips, her sword arm already moving to thrust her weapon into him. Brahms just barely got out of the way, the Goddess pursuing him as the remaining humans cheered.

He had no weapons, save for his fangs and his claws. The Valkyrie wore metal molded to her body, protecting much of her vital spots from him. He made the effort all the same, claws scratching harmlessly across her breast plate. Sometimes he'd grab at her hair, dragging her off balance long enough for him to punch the Valkyrie in the face.

She was never more than briefly stunned, always determined as she came after him. Sometimes her sword would slash across a part of his body, more of his precious blood spilling out of him. It only made him hungry, Brahms seething as he determined he would have her blood to replace that which he had lost.

Silmeria noted that in his memories, Brahms was not yet the powerful figure she had come to know. He was still weak, lacking many of his abilities and fighting prowess. He couldn't even teleport, forced to rely on his preternatural speed to evade the Valkyrie's attacks. But not all of them, his back getting sliced open. The Valkyrie was more than a match for him, might even be his end.

It wasn't much of a fight. Brahms was forced to flee, the Valkyrie giving chase. They'd spend hours this way, Brahms being driven further and further through the woods. He was conscious of the time, of how the moon was close to setting. Desperation drove him to move, Brahms knowing he could not afford to be trapped outside when the sun rose. Nor could he go to one of his hideaways, not with the Valkyrie on his tail.

There was only one option left to him, Brahms fleeing for the safety of the underworld. The Valkyrie would pursue him there, the battle maiden fearless of Nifleheim and it's demons. But there was one less thing to worry about, Brahms knowing the sun's light would never penetrate down into the underworld.

How long had it been since he had last set foot in Nifleheim? Months? Years? Brahms did not know, nor did he care at the moment. He was too focused on surviving, on avoiding the Valkyries blade. Their fight, and the blood he was spilling would draw the attention of the nearby demons. Those demonic creatures would stay at a safe distance, waiting to finish off the loser.

The fight would wage onwards, the two opponents supernatural beings that did not tire in the manner of mortals. Brahms did not think he was winning, but occasional he'd land a blow on the Valkyrie. Sometimes denting her armor, weakening it. He didn't know it then, but he was hurting the Valkyrie, little by little. Same as she was hurting him, her sword scratching open his skin.

It was a shock when the armor over her back shattered open. It had finally given in to his constant pounding. The Valkyrie did not pause to assess the damage, intent on Brahms' neck. He maneuvered them so that he could slash open her back, drawing her blood for the first time. The Valkyrie screamed, staggered by the pain. Brahms was on her in an instant, taking her neck as he held her from behind.

It was a rush, an exhilaration to taste divine blood once more. Brahms groaned and greedily drank, even as the Valkyrie screamed and flailed, trying to drive her sword behind her. It stabbed into his side, Brahms howling in pain. His distraction allowed the Valkyrie to tear free of his arms, her neck brutally savaged in the process. Only her divinity allowed her to still live, the Valkyrie staring at him, her sword arm trembling. She had known how close to death she had come, and it made her wary of Brahms.

Even worse, she was still bleeding. Both from her neck and her back. Brahms would growl, intent on her. The Valkyrie would slash her sword at his face, Brahms throwing up his arms for protection. By the time the sword finished slashing open his skin, the Valkyrie was gone. Brahms growled, turning this way and that way, waiting for an attack that would not come. To Silmeria's shock, the Valkyrie had withdrawn from the fight.

Brahms would not see this particular Valkyrie again. Nor would he return to Midgard any time soon. He didn't dare to, not with a divine threat of the Valkyrie safe guarding the realm. The blood he had tasted, was just barely enough to heal him from the wounds Brahms had received at her sword. He knew he would need more powerful blood before he could stand a chance against the battle maiden.

But there was nothing in Nifleheim but the demons. And their blood was a poor substitute for humans and Gods. Brahms thought he would forever be forced to wallow in the underworld, the man wandering the realm aimlessly. He was a predator to be feared, feeding off any demons, big or small, that drew too near. He no longer had to hide under Yggsdrasil, no longer content to wallow and wait for scavengers to draw near.

Nifleheim is a vast realm. It would take decades for one to travel from one end to the other. Brahms felt he had nothing but time to explore, the vampire traveling the land, hoping vainly, to find something to prey on besides the demons. Something infinitely more nourishing. He had nothing but time on his hands, and that left him to think about things. He still longed for vengeance against Odin, wanting to avenge all the wrongs the God had committed. But he didn't know how, didn't stand a chance weakened as he was. Brahms needed to secure a consistent, and sustaining food source. Only then could he grow his strength, and maybe make a push to topple Odin from his throne.

It was a terrible way to live. It was a BORING way to exist. And yet there was nothing left to him, Brahms constantly on the move. His own feeding was dwindling down the numbers of demons in the area, the creatures fleeing to other parts of Nifleheim. Brahms followed after them, determined not to give up his only sustenance. Silmeria sensed he kept hoping if he drank enough demon blood, he would eventually get strong enough to make another attempt on the Valkyrie who guarded Midgard.

Sometimes the thought of the Valkyrie's blood was the only thing that kept him motivated. Brahms wanted to finish her, to drink down every drop of her nourishing blood. To take her power into him. He wouldn't stop once he was sated, he'd gorge himself on her blood. Other times he thought he would make the Valkyrie his prisoner, keep her on the cusp of death, drinking from her nightly.

It was obscene how much those thoughts aroused him. But Brahms was through being ashamed, at least where an emissary of Odin's was concerned. Sometimes he dreamt of draining the Valkyrie dry, and leaving her corpse at Odin's feet. Of killing the God before Odin could recover from his shock. Dark fantasies driven by his need for vengeance filled him, sometimes providing the only brief glimpses of joy Brahms could take out of his situation.

This was how his days passed, the same thought patterns and events repeating themselves. Silmeria began to get bored, wondering when a change would come. Brahms would feed on demons, and think his plots, reveling in his fantasies. No end seemed in sight, not until they heard a woman shrieking in pain. The first shriek, both Brahms and Silmeria thought he had imagined it. After all, Brahms had been thinking about the Valkyrie, and what he would do to the goddess.

But the shriek sounded again, the voice near constant. She was passed the point of begging, of speaking words. She could only voice the pain through her screams. Laugher, masculine and otherworldly sounded in response to the screams. Along with a determined grunting, a twisted, pleasured sound. Silmeria felt her stomach drop, she did not want to see what was being done to the woman. Not when Silmeria was already sure she could guess.

But Brahms was moving, drawn by the sounds. Even as he moved, he thought he recognized the woman's voice. Silmeria's dread continued to build, she wanted to turn away, to shut her eyes from whatever they were about to be shown. But Brahms wasn't looking away, his eyes wide open as he stalked through the underbrush. The screams would grow louder, the shrieking voice more familiar than ever.

Brahms did not say anything, just moved quicker. He burst into a crowded clearing, several of the largest demons he had ever seen standing around something. The woman's voice came from the center of that group, along with the grunting sound of a male pleasuring himself. Almost in a trance, Brahms moved towards the group. Silmeria didn't know what the demons thought. Did they assume Brahms was like them, here to take pleasure from the victim they had in their possession? Whatever the case, the demons parted, enough for Brahms to catch sight of the naked woman.

She was bound to a boulder, chains crossed all over body. Her legs had been spread, chains wound around her ankles to keep her exposed in that position. He saw the perfect profile of her face, saw the long hair that cascaded over the rock. She was screaming, writhing in pain as the large demon rutted over her. Such was his size, he was all but splitting her apart, hurting her as he took his pleasure.

It wasn't just enough for the demon to rape the goddess. He was running his claws over one side of her body, drawing her blood. The blood's scent made any sense he had had, leave Brahms, the vampire losing rationality as he screamed. He attacked the demon on top of the Goddess, ripped him brutally out of her. The other demons reacted with surprise and anger, moving to attack Brahms. One was fool enough to try and take his place between the Goddess' legs, Brahms lurching towards him, tearing his head off in a brutal show of strength.

It was not the hunger driving him, nor was his mindless. This was more akin to a beserker's rage, Brahms so incensed by who had been made the victim of the demons. His memories became hazy, all Silmeria could see was blood everywhere, his claws drenched in them as Brahms killed each and every one of the Goddess' tormentors.

Brahms was left panting, breathing heavily from exertion. All the demons were dead, their heads torn off, or their bodies ripped open. His was soaked in blood, his clothing ruined by it. But he didn't care, wishing he could kill the demons again. He was still so murderous, so full of rage and indignation over what he had seen. And then the whimper of sound reach through to him, the Goddess trying to muffle her shrieks by biting down on her lip.

Ever so slowly, Brahms turned towards her. The chains still held her prisoner, he could see the runes inscripted on the metal. The runes were words of power, stripping the Goddess of her abilities. She had been rendered into nothing more than a plaything for the demons, an outlet for their lusts and cruelty. Brahms saw now just how cruel they had truly been, one side of her once perfect body ruined by claw marks and burns.

With her powers subdued by the chains, the Goddess hadn't been able to heal her injuries. They had scarred her, left a permanent mark of the torture she had been through. Brahms felt his own heart hurting, his murderous haze fading somewhat to sadness. He didn't know how the Goddess had come to suffer this fate, but Brahms suspected Odin had a hand in it.

Hel was still trying not to scream, her lip bleeding from her efforts. Silmeria felt Brahms damn himself, the man feeling guilt that he wanted to taste that blood. And yet he couldn't stay away, had to go near her long enough to free the Goddess. Her frightened eyes watched his every move. She looked as though she expected more abuse from him, and Brahms could do nothing to reassure her. Not so long as her blood's scent was in his nose.

His shaking hands reached for the chains. He could not break them. Not without more powerful blood in him. Brahms knew what he had to do, but never had he found the idea as distasteful as now. How could he feed on her, after she had been so violated and tormented by demons? But to leave her now, would only invite more of those monsters to come torture her.

He had no choice. Brahms realized that. "Hel, I am sorry." Brahms told her, over her screams. He bent over her, trying to look nowhere but at her neck. Like the rest of her body, one side was unmarked. But the side he had so often fed from, it's scars were lost to the new ones the demons had given her. But he couldn't bring himself to feed on the perfect side, Brahms sinking his fangs into her as gently as he could.

Hel screamed the entire time he fed. She was too far gone to enjoy the act, to out of it to be aware that it was not a demon but her once betrothed who fed on her. Her mind might be irrevocably damaged, there might be nothing that could bring the goddess back from insanity's grasp. It was a worry that kept Brahms from enjoying her blood, the vampire taking only enough from Hel to gain the strength needed to break her chains.

She would immediately try to run from him. Brahms would easily catch her, holding her against him. Hel would break down once she realized she couldn't get away. She wept into his chest, shaking as he ran his claws through her hair in a soothing manner. Hel never once spoke, not even to curse and damn him. No amount of coaxing could calm her, Hel broken in the moment.

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To Be Continued...

This origin has taken a life of it's own. I never imagined it would get so long to write it all out. X_X

Michelle
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