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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
- 35
- 36
- 37
The throne room was crowded with creatures. Demons, undead, even the Valkyries pressing inside to swarm a single opponent. Brahms let out his most angriest of bellows, his hands already moving. His claws were tearing open into anything he could reach, arcs of blood spurting out, spraying onto him and onto others. Silmeria felt his satisfaction with each kill, but never did Brahms lose his anger. And all because he was betrayed, turned against by the very Goddess he had protected for so long.

It mattered not to Brahms that had he had done Hel wrong. Even as he had used her for her blood, Brahms had strove to build her a new home, a kingdom she could rule over. He could barely believe she had become so twisted as to pay him back with betrayal. It made him beyond angry, livid and raging but not yet to the point he'd give over to a beserker's rage.

Silmeria noted with approval that no matter how angry Brahms got, he never once resorted to relying on the parasite to guide his actions. Never did he allow his mind to go blank, to let his fists and fangs be guided by the creature inside him. The creature that only cared about survival and feedings. If the parasite had taken control, Brahms might not have survived. Not with all the opponents around him, all the tempting blood being drawn.

Most tempting of all was that of the Valkyries. Brahms actually regretted the fact that he couldn't stop to dine on one of the battle maidens. But their blood was dangerous, a sweetly seductive meal that would make him drink without stopping. He'd drain every drop, and never stop until the Valkyrie was dead. Right now, with so many enemies about, he couldn't pause for such a meal. To stop and drink down a Valkyrie was to dance to his own death, his enemies killing him even as he killed a battle maiden.

It took great restraint on Brahms' part, the parasite rearing inside him. Growling, lusting for all the blood he was spilling. It felt it a waste, that all that blood was not being consumed. Brahms ignored it's orders, still flush on Hel's own blood. He had taken more than enough to last him through this fight, and Brahms would not waste the chance it gave him.

With a challenging roar, he grabbed hold of a Valkyrie. She struggled against him, eyes flashing with impudent rage. Brahms did not take the time to inhale her scent, did not do anything more than the briefest look at her before the vampire was snapping the Valkyrie's neck. She didn't even make a sound, just went limp in his arms. Another Valkyrie screamed, her anger very real. She swung her battle axe at him, and Brahms used the dead Valkyrie's body to deflect the weapon.

With a sickening squelch, the axe sunk into the Valkyrie's corpse, shattering open her armor. The axe stuck fast to the body, the other Valkyrie having to abandon her preferred weapon. With her eyes flashing her rage, she drew the sword at her side. Brahms threw the corpse from him, the body slamming into a group of demons. The demons fell over, one being pinned beneath the corpse. But it did not panic, instead sinking it's teeth into the dead Valkyrie's neck, trying to feed off her flesh. Others would make a similar attempt on the body.

The remaining Valkyries grew incensed when they saw the demons trying to feed off their sister. They saw it as a violation, and they moved to attack. Fighting broke out between both sides. The truce between them had been a tenuous thing, and when the Valkyries began fighting with the demons, that is when things really got out of hand. The demons were not content to be victims of the Valkyries, the memories of the war that had so recently ended bringing out their battle lusts. Brahms was ALMOST forgotten, as a brawl broke out.

Some of the demons and undead creatures focused on Brahms. But many had their attention divided, fighting any and all they could reach. It was pure chaos, Brahms trying not to laugh as he fought with the Valkyrie who had once wielded an axe. His amusement over the chaos didn't make him careless, Brahms watching the Valkyrie carefully as he tried to avoid the stray attacks that came his way.

The Valkyrie was just as cautious, moving with him. Both her hands gripped her sword's hilt, her eyes narrowed as she looked for an opening to strike against. But Brahms wasn't so unguarded as to give her one. Nor did he let himself get distracted by the enemies who came in reach, though occasionally he would snap a neck and fling that body towards the dodging Valkyrie.

When the two did finally clash together, his claws scraped over the metal of the Valkyrie's armor. Sparks actually came off the metal, Brahms using his one hand to grip the blade of the Valkyrie's sword. The Valkyrie made an annoyed sound, jerking her sword arm back. Brahms smiled, and held onto the sword, actually shattering the blade from the strength in his hand.

The Valkyrie gasped, and tried to back up. Brahms lunged forward, hand grabbing her by the neck. It was over in an instant, the Valkyrie's throat crushed by his strength. He was so tempted to pull her against him, to sink his fangs into her and feed. But he restrained that impulse, throwing her body into the crowd. Shrieks were heard, the remaining Valkyries indignant to see another one of their sisters being fed upon.

Brahms' gaze sought out Hel's, his eyes narrowing as he realized she had left the throne room. A reckoning between them would have to wait, his own thirst for vengeance needed to be put aside. He needed to get away.

With that thought in mind, he resumed fighting his way towards the exit. Bodies flew, heads torn off, or skin slashed open. Any who got in his way died, Brahms tearing apart any challengers who would dare try to stop him. That included the Valkyries, a new woman engaging him with hand to hand combat. He fought back, dodging her punches, breaking her left wrist at one point. He was effectively disabling her, practically toying with her, even as Brahms retreated to the throne room's exit.

He had come a long way, his fighting steeped now in mastery. His expertise had come from all those years spent in the underworld, first fighting demons, than waging the thousand year war against Odin's army. He had not wasted time, Brahms learning how to fight, how to kill. He was most efficient, and it showed, his fights with these current Valkyries not at all like that encounter he had had with the very first battle maiden that been called onto Midgard's land all those years ago.

He was one step closer to being the Brahms Silmeria knew, the King who had been the terror of the plains of Idavoll. He would only become that much more dangerous, that more ruthless and effective at fighting in the coming years. Right now he had to call upon every skill learned, every bit of knowledge gleaned as he exited from the throne room. Some of the enemies inside tried to follow him, but most were too busy fighting each other. It did not matter, there was thousands of undead and demons that stood between Brahms and the tunnels that would lead him to Midgard.

But there weren't anymore Valkyrie. Odin had not seen fit to send more than the handful that had been inside Hel's throne room. As though he had underestimated the challenge Brahms could give. Brahms didn't waste time on being insulted. Let Odin continue to demean his strength, to underestimate him. It would make Brahms victory all the sweeter when he did finally get to face the God in combat.

But first he had to get out of the underworld! The journey would take months, Brahms battling for most of it. Eljudnir had been built in the very heart of the realm, down in the deepest bowels of the underworld. It was no easy feat to come and go from Hel's castle to the mortal plains, Brahms having to journey on foot for hundreds of miles. It would have been a journey made all the simpler if he could teleport, but at that point and time Brahms simply lacked such a skill.

He had to fight nearly every step of the way, demons and undead dogging his every move. There was little time for rest, little time to do anything but fight. Brahms was on constant move, using every skill, every expertise, every sneaky trick to his advantage. It was tiring to fight without true reprieve, but Brahms kept himself fueled on the anger that ran through him. An anger born of Hel's betrayal, Brahms hurting even as he understood why the Goddess might have grown to hate him so bad.

He raged though. His thoughts often furious, harsh whispers in his mind that spoke of the Queen with disdain. He felt more than betrayed, Brahms felt used. As used as Hel had ever been, Brahms knowing he was responsible for the empire she now commanded. An empire she was using against Brahms, turning all her vast resources and minions loose on him.

There was no time for anything but the rage. He couldn't afford deep introspection. Couldn't afford to feel regret or sadness that his association with Hel had soured to this degree. The time for feelings than ran deeper than anger would come, but not until after he escaped Nifleheim and had a moment to catch his breath. Until then, he fought, anger held just above all other emotions.

There was only one thing that could get past the anger. And that was the hunger Brahms was slowly suffering. It was too long a journey to go without a true feeding, too many months passing where he existed on nothing but demons' blood. That foul blood held no power to it, no strength and vitality for him to steal. The demons' blood could only keep him alive for just a little longer, Brahms forcing himself to keep moving. Day dreams of the blood he would taste once upon Midgard's land teased him, Brahms trying to recall the tantalizing taste of the humans.

He did not try to exist solely on demons blood. The first instance of his hunger spiking within him? It had Brahms sending out a powerful compulsion. He called upon Hel, called upon his traitorous blood slave, his fangs aching to sink into her flesh. He wanted-needed to drink from her. Needed to drain as much energy from her as possible. Brahms might have even been willing to keep Hel alive, if only for as long as it would take him to reach Midgard.

But no matter how often and how insistent his compulsions were, the Goddess never appeared. It confused him, Brahms not understanding how Hel could have the strength to now ignore his commands. Nor would he get a real answer, Brahms left to speculate for years about the severance of the link between them. He wouldn't have time to develop a true theory in the underworld. Not with the near constant fighting. But in the future, when he could take a moment to himself? Brahms became certain that Odin was responsible for Hel's resistance. That Odin was the buffer between them, using his own power to break the slave master bond.

It would be a long time before Brahms could explore the repercussions of his blood slave gaining freedom from him. Hel was wisely holding back her monsters, the undead keeping far from Brahms. The demons were more than enough trouble, the creatures persistent and cruel. They were a great drain on Brahms, tiring him out and offering nothing that could truly restore his depleting energy.

By the time Brahms did make it to Midgard, he was weary. But beyond that tiredness, he was starving. It had been too long since he had fed on Hel. Too long since he had had anything but demon's blood for sustenance. He was eager for the chance to feed on something that would do more than just prolong his life. Brahms was eager for the blood than ran in the humans' veins, knowing they were a satisfying in-between of demon and divine blood.

He was not so far gone to hunger that Brahms couldn't be amazed at the changes he saw that had been wrought upon Midgard. The mortals had come a long way in the thousand years that had passed since Brahms last set foot on their land. They no longer hid in caves, no longer dressed in clothing crudely fashioned from pelts of slain animals. They were clean and intelligent, having built several cities. They had developed their language, were beginning to pursue knowledge beyond that which had to do with their day to day living.

They were smarter now, but they were no less prepared this time around than they had been the first time Brahms walked among them. They had no true protection against the undead save for Odin's Valkyrie. They were doubly unprepared for a monster as intelligent as Brahms was. Even pursued as he was, by both Hel and Odin's forces, Brahms found it easy to sneak into the outskirts of the cities. He'd linger there long enough to feed, and then move on, always conscious of those that hunted him.

Hel and Odin's alliance had not yet fallen apart completely. But it was strained, Brahms continued existence a sore point between the two Gods. Hel would try her best to live up to her bargain with Odin. She'd continue to send her demons after Brahms, the creatures intent on finding the vampire, on capturing him. Even at times, attempting to kill him. It wasn't just the denizens of the underworld Brahms had to contend with. Odin had his Valkyries and their einherjar searching the realms, not limiting them to just Midgard's land.

It seemed no realm was safe for Brahms. There was no place he could settle down for long periods of time, the vampire constantly on the move. He'd travel the realms, though he made special effort to avoid Asgard and Nifleheim. And during his travels, he would sample blood of many of the beings in Creation, discovering which ones empowered him, and which ones merely sustained him.

The elves of Alfheim were of a delicious quality. They appeased his hunger, and helped to increase his strength. The giants of Jotunheim were a difficult meal to catch, and their blood was weak, hardly sustaining him. His most favorite taste was that of the divine, of the lesser deities known as Valkyrie. But the power he gained from drinking the battle maidens' blood was short lasting bursts. They were more treat than any long lasting sustenance.

The best blood proved to be that of the humans. The mortals of Midgard while not overly powerful, did sustain him. And he found that over time, he was gaining strength though it wasn't comparable to the power that had infused him with each feeding he had done of Hel's blood.

It wasn't just the taste of and strength found within the different kinds of blood, that he was experimenting with. He wanted to know if it was possible to make another blood slave, to make a replacement for Hel. Brahms knew there were advantages beyond feeding when it came to blood slaves. Ones that had to do with protection. He needed guards, needed someone to stand watch over his daylight resting places.

But he didn't know how to repeat what he had done with Hel. And there was no one to teach him, Brahms being the first, the only one of his kind. It would take a lot of trial and error for Brahms to learn how to use compulsion to bind someone so thoroughly to him. Many died in the process, Brahms leaving far too many corpse in his wake. He'd never realize the wrong he was doing, the horrors he was unleashing on the realms.

Through his desperate, repeated feedings, he was creating a new race. But it was not the vampires of the present day and age. Bloodthirsty, constantly killing, they were mindless. Revenants. And they were spreading across the realms like a plague, feeding on the inhabitants, sometimes creating more of their own kind. Brahms was as horrified as anyone else when he saw what he had created. He'd even set to right his wrongs, killing many. Odin's Valkyries were also busy, now actively hunting the revenants instead of Brahms.

It did not mean that Brahms was safe. There was still Hel's forces to contend with. She was determined to kill him, but her ways were doing almost as much damage as the revenants. The undead were feeding off the people of the realms, infecting them. Their sizes tripled in numbers. The demons were going wild, enjoying hurting the people of the lands.

Odin would have enough of their destructive ways. He would fight with Hel to gain control of her undead. A new war would erupt between Asgard and Nifleheim, Odin's forces spread all over all the realms in an attempt to do damage control. Brahms wasn't forgotten, but at that time became a lesser threat. He continued to hunt the revenants, killing those he could find. But the very fact of the revenant's existence had him thinking. Wondering if there was a way to make another kind of creature that was similar to Brahms but not so mindless like the revenants obviously were.

He began experimenting anew. Sometimes he'd capture a revenant alive, keep the creature bound up in chains. Brahms tried to see if feeding the revenant's hunger would bring back the creatures mind. But no matter how much blood the revenant took, always they remained mindless. Always hungry, always lusting to feed and kill any and everything that got in it's way.

In the end, Brahms had to kill the ones he had captured. It left him angry, feeling all alone. Was there no way to repeat what had been done to him? No way to make others like him? He wanted power, he wanted armies. But also, he was tired of being alone. Tired of being hunted, of being maligned by all the other races. There was no place he was welcomed, no placed he could find peace to live in. He was hunted not only by the Heavens and the underworld, but by the people he chose to feed on.

But he wasn't ready to end his existence. He still had vengeance to live for. Odin had to pay. And to a lesser extent Hel, though Brahms really didn't have the heart in him to go after the Goddess. Not now that so much time had passed, allowing much of his anger with her to fade. It wasn't the same with Hel. She still hated Brahms. Hated him as much as she hated Odin. But she was locked into a war with Odin, in a battle for supremacy over the undead. Brahms was left to his own devices, and for a time all he did was feed, careful to not do anything that would lead to another revenant being born.

This way of living, of existing only to sate his hungers, bothered Brahms. He was a social creature, a man who had enjoyed the company of others. He was never meant to be solitary, never meant to live in hiding. For the longest time his only contacts were those he fed on, and those he fought with. It wasn't any way to live, his existence hollow. He was all alone, and Brahms was LONELY.

It was that loneliness that drove Brahms to the human cities. It was there he set up a residence for himself, stealing what he needed, using compulsion for the rest. Brahms had grown careful with his feedings, knowing it would only invite disaster to feed on those who lived in the city where he made his home. He'd make a journey every two nights to nearby cities, feeding there but returning to his new home before the sun had a chance to rise.

For a time, existing among the humans filled a void in Brahms' life. He had contact with intelligent beings, was able to pretend at having a normal life. But Brahms never forgot the things that had been denied him, never forgot his vengeance. Even as he studied the humans' culture, trying to learn enough to better fit in among them, he was missing the Heavens. Missing the people of that realm. But more than that, he missed having a purpose.

For the longest time he had existed for Hel. Existed to keep her safe, and to build her empire. Even after the underworld was an established kingdom, Brahms had continued to serve her. He had commanded her armies, trained them for the battles they would someday wage with Odin. Brahms had never expected those armies to be turned against him, to be used to hunt and hurt him.

Brahms knew he would always be hunted. Always be an outcast so long as he was the only one of his own kind. He didn't even have a name for what he was! The name vampire had not yet come into fashion, Brahms being so careful and controlled when it came to his feedings. The humans had no way of knowing a new kind of predator hunted among them, blaming the deaths on the undead that walked the realm.

Ultimately, it was loneliness and a need to have others of his own kind that drove Brahms to make the first vampire. That desperation drove him to resume his experiments, Brahms risking much to try and make himself a companion. He didn't immediately delve into it, Brahms spending much time thinking, pondering the ways in which he could repeat the conditions that had changed him. He didn't know just how Odin had introduced the parasite into his body, but Brahms felt there was a sliver of hope. Those very revenants that had horrified him so, now made him think there was a chance to create a creature that hungered for blood but had it's mind intact. It wasn't just the revenants he looked at, Brahms eyeing Hel's undead. The way they doubled their numbers, somehow sharing the infection within them onto other creatures.

The most often way the undead shared their infection was through bites, or through cuts and scratches. But sometimes through the sharing of their own blood. Brahms had never tried to outright feed someone his own parasite laden blood. But he was curious enough to try that now.

He didn't immediately set off to do this new experiment with his blood. He'd have to leave his home, Brahms not about to take a risk and perform any such experiments in the city he had come to live in. Instead he would perform his experiments out in the wilds, shutting himself and the man he had kidnapped into a forest cave. The man was a strapping youth, full of health and vitality.

Brahms wasn't sure how exactly to go about this conversion. He didn't want to kill this man, didn't want him to be the first in a string of mistakes. So he took it slow, spreading out the experiment over several days. Many careful feedings would be used to weaken this man before Brahms would force him to drink his blood. He almost held his breath as he waited, fervently hoping this would work.

The change did not happen immediately. After all, Brahms did not know what he was doing, blundering through the creation process. The man seemed to grow weaker after tasting Brahms blood, actually getting sick, then dying a day later. Brahms was disappointed, not yet realizing the complexities of the transformation. He would bury the human outside his cave, but was not yet ready to try again with another human. Three days later, the earth would be disturbed, the very burial spot uncovered. The human had risen, desperately hungry for blood.

He would return to his city, to his very home and feed off his family. Brahms would find the newly made vampire in the midst of feeding off his half alive mother. A fight would break out, Brahms having to subdue his newly created fledgling. But there was no need to kill him, the man's mind intact. Brahms would rejoice, realizing he had at last discovered the key to making more of his own kind.

New discoveries would come. Brahms would learn it would take power to truly transform another into a vampire. The newly made fledglings could not do it, all they could create was revenants. It would take several hundred years before a fledgling would become powerful enough to pass on the vampirism to others. Often times it would take that long for the fledgling to come to accept their new life.

He wasn't alone anymore, having a few vampires around him. And with the vampires, he learned even more things about the race he was creating. There was the oddity of the blood, the fact that one vampire feeding off another vampire, could receive memories. Thankfully this was only limited to the vampires' blood. It would have been a terrible thing if every time they fed off a different race they were flooded with that person's life memories.

It was a weird enough experience for the vampires to see each other's memories. It bonded the vampires together more closely, no secrets between them once they fed off of each other. Brahms' own personal history was shared with those first fledglings. It felt good to have the true story known, even as his fledglings bemoaned the fact that his history was too overwhelming to be burdened with.

Brahms did not realize it then, but in giving his vampires his blood and the knowledge contained within it, he was endangering the fledgelings. Odin would not tolerate the truth being made known. But it would take time for Odin to realize Brahms was creating his own race of people, the God too busy fighting with Hel for control of the undead. Brahms would have relative peace for the next three hundred years, the vampire busy. He kept on making vampires, trying to expand his race. He didn't set out to create a kingdom, he just wanted an army in which to contend with Odin. Soon the vampires reached such numbers that the flock had to relocate. There was too many to feed if they stuck together on the mainland. Brahms allowed them to break up, to travel elsewhere without him.

He'd search out a land for them. He'd find it on an island, a perfect place for the vampires to live. It would take years of searching Midgard, and even longer to build them a proper home on the island. Odin and Hel were busy too. Odin had successfully wrest control of the undead from Hel, and set them off to find Brahms. Hel herself was infuriated over the loss, left only with the demons of Niflehiem to protect her. She wasn't satisfied with such a small army of protectors. Hel would set her sights on the mortals, on further corrupting them.

It was Hel who began to teach magic to the humans. It was an ancient and forbidden art, a skill Odin had never intended the humans to learn. He damned those who began to follow Hel, but the mortals were more advanced now. Willing to make their own choices. Some didn't believe in Odin's wrath, didn't believe in the damnation he threatened them with. They persisted in following the Goddess, in learning her magic. It damned them, and added to her armies, Hel using them and their souls to further her own power.

Each of the three power players were gathering their armies. Odin so recently victorious against Hel, would turn his attention back to Brahms. He wouldn't like what he saw, the vampires thriving. He'd like it even less when he realized those vampires knew the truth of Brahms' origins. It was a sad day for Brahms when Odin sent the Valkyries to hunt down his fledglings. He'd send the undead too, many of the vampires dying, torn apart at the monsters' hands. They barely stood a chance against their opponents, the vampires still too inexperienced, too new to know how to utilize their strengths to fight effectively. He would try to do what he could to help minimize the losses, but even Brahms was not as almighty as to prevent so many vampires from dying.

It would be at a point of sheer and utter desperation that Brahms would try to take control of the undead. He hadn't expected his compulsion to work on them. It had been so long since he had tried it out on these types of creatures. He had wrongfully assumed that when Odin had severed his connection with Hel, it had damaged Brahms' control over the undead. Imagine his shock when he discovered quite the opposite, the undead quickly falling into line with Brahms' commands.

Odin was enraged at the loss of his undead armies. But there was nothing he could do to bring them back to his side. Brahms had them firmly under control, his command of them earning him the title Lord of the Undead. Odin thought Hel had purposefully given control of her monsters to Brahms, though the Goddess fervently denied it. She became shunned, not only by Odin and the other deities, but by many of the realms.

Hel continued to thirst for vengeance, fighting Odin for control of Midgard. She couldn't take it by force, but many mortals were too foolish and eager to follow her. Those mortals gathered together, and under the Goddess' guidance, built whole nations devoted to her. Hel's power grew from the worshippers she gained. Odin would follow suit, creating his own kingdoms that were devoted to worshipping him.

Midgard was split in half, and the other realms seemed intent on allying with Odin. Brahms had no real allies, he only had his vampires and the undead monsters to rely on. By this point and time, the vampires who had survived the undead massacre, were strong enough to create vampires as well. The race was expanding, more and more vampires being created.

Brahms was careful not to share his blood with these new fledglings, not wanting them to take the burden of his memories. He had noticed a trend, Odin targeting vampires who knew the truth of how their race came to be. It seemed Odin did not want anyone to know the real truth behind Brahm's transformation. Odin seemed to have an instinctive way of knowing just who knew the truth. And his reaction to that knowledge being shared was near instantaneous, striking down dead those who knew.

Brahms stopped sharing his blood completely with the vampires. Nor did he speak of their origins. Soon there was no vampire left alive who knew the truth. It was no surprise that rumors began. No one tried to correct this gossip. It was not as though the real truth was pleasant, and Brahms did not want to be reminded incessantly about his past.

By this point Brahms was a master at compulsion. He was able to bespell many people just by having them gaze into his eyes. His bite was an even more powerful compulsion, Brahms able to make blood slaves if he so chose. He'd also learn to teleport, a skill that was quite handy when it came to battling the Valkyrie and their einherjar.

But he wasn't ready yet to march on Asgard. Brahms would continue to develop the vampires, to make them a civilized race. He wasn't content to let them be nothing more than monsters that terrorized the realms. He might have even been content to let them exist safely on their island, if not for his pressing need to take revenge on Odin. He still hated Odin for what had been done to him, Brahms could not accept all the changes that had been wrought on his body. He even mourned that which had been done to Hel, though Brahms knew he and the Goddess would never be close again.

It was several hundred thousand years before Silmeria would be conceived, that Brahms made his first attack on Asgard. He took his now vast army up to the heavens, the undead eager for a chance to dine on Valkyrie flesh. His vampires had not yet been exposed to the treat that was a Valkyrie's blood. They had simply been too inexperienced to last against the battle maidens. But this time it would be different, the vampires having gained skill in fighting. It did not mean their victory was ensured. Especially not against legions of einherjar led by many able bodied Valkyrie.

They would be marching across Bifrost, the very bridge seeming to quake in response to their footsteps. Brahms was near the front of his army, mot quite in the lead as they made their way across the bridge. His eyes were greedy for the sights of Asgard, Brahms actually pausing at one point to just stare around him. The heavens were as beautiful as he had remembered, all the colors brighter, more blazing than Midgard's. The air here was sweet, there was none of the sulfur and brimstone stench that permeated the underworld.

It almost brought a tear to his eyes, Brahms overcome in the moment of his return. It had been too long since he had last set foot on this holy land. Time had not lessened the pain of being forced from his home. He could have stood and just stared in amazement for hours, but his vampires were urging him forward. They had none of his sentimentality, though they could acknowledge the heavens were beautiful indeed.

They'd resume trekking across the bridge, about half their army on it when a God appeared. Brahms recognized him in an instant, calling out his name. "Heimdall!" He was already shoving himself through to the front of his army, his eyes intent on the brown haired, bearded God.

Heimdall looked at him, his lower lip curling in a sneer. If he recognized Brahms, he gave no sign of it. "I thought I smelled the undead."

"Heimdall it's me." Brahms said in response. "It's Brahms."

The God did not react to the name, neither impressed nor showing any signs of recognition. Brahms wondered at that, knowing that though his skin and eyes had changed color, he had not been transformed so thoroughly as to be unrecognizable.

"Don't you know me?" Brahms asked, taking a cautious step towards Heimdall. He was right to be wary, the God lighting up with power.

"Keep back!" Heimdall shouted, flinging globes of ether towards Brahms and his vampires. Instantly the night was filled with the sounds of teleportation, the vampires frantic to get out of the way. The undead monsters Brahms had taken control of, were left to bear the brunt of the God's attack, bodies flying up into the sky from the force of the explosion.

"Heimdall!" Brahms was aghast. "What are you doing?"

"Undead scum." Heimdall was throwing more ether. "Your kind is not fit to walk among paradise. Your kind can only bring ruin to us. I will not allow you to spoil the land and the people of Asgard in the same manner you have spoiled the other realms! DIE!"

The orbs of divine energy was flying, torpedoing into the scattering army. Those undead still on the bridge had nowhere to run, many falling into the waters Iving. The God attacked them even there, but by this point the vampires were teleporting in close to him. They'd hiss and snarl, striking at the God's body. They'd teleport in close, then vanish before he could deal with them.

They were a nuisance at best to the God. They served only to stir up Heimdall's anger, more of his divine energy flying. Brahms let out a breath, trying not to snarl himself as he prepared to teleport to Heimdall's side. The God would throw a punch at Brahms' arrival, the vampire grabbing at his wrist.

"Stop this Heimdall! It's me! Brahms!"

"Stop speaking as though I should be familiar with you!" Heimdall growled, and with his free hand shoved a burst of energy into Brahms' face. It blinded him, Brahms staggering back when Heimdall kicked him. More energy crashed into him, Brahms could hear his people screaming, moving to attack the God. Their attacks distracted Heimdall from their King, buying Brahms a moment to recover.

"We grew up together." Brahms said when he had recovered. His eyes still hurt from the ether that had been thrust into his face. "Your mother was my wet nurse...!"

"Don't you dare!" Heimdall gasped, outraged. "Do not, even in jest, imply my mother would ever have anything to do with you undead!" More ether was flung at him, Brahms teleporting out of the way.

"I wasn't always the creature you see before you! I too was once like you...!"

"LIES!" Heimdall screamed, continuing to rely on his ether to attack Brahms and his army. Even without Heimdall blowing his sacred horn, Gjallarhorn, the fight was attracting attention from others in the realm. It wouldn't be long before an advance party of Valkyrie arrived, einherjar following close behind them. Brahms would continue to fight with Heimdall, having to settle for teleporting to get in close enough to lay claws on the God. And all the while he wondered at Heimdall's words, wondered and worried how the God could claim not to know him.

He wouldn't get answers that day. Or the next. The fighting would continue, only increase in seriousness as Odin set forth his army to meet with Brahms'. Sometimes the vampires would catch a glimpse of other Gods, but mostly the deities kept out of the fighting. Brahms was always alert to when a new God appeared on the battlefield, allowing his vampires to distract the deity until Brahms could teleport over there. He'd arrive with hopes that the God would recognize him, and always, Brahms would come away disappointed.

It would be a long time before Brahms could finally understand just what Odin had done. How Odin had twisted the memories of the very Gods who lived in Asgard. They did not recognize Brahms, did not know of him beyond his titles as Lord of the Undead, and King of the Vampires. They seemed to have no knowledge of his time before he had fallen, before he had been transformed through Odin's own treachery. It was Odin's own doing. As King of Creation he had gained enough power to tamper with memories, even that of his fellow Gods. But it wasn't a complete erasing. Odin could not wipe out all of Brahms' memory from the Asgardian's minds. So he did the next best thing, twisting and distorting the memories until the Gods forgot that Brahms had once been one of their own.

Once again Odin had succeeded in taking from Brahms. It hurt to be forgotten, hurt that the Gods he had called friends no longer knew him. But Brahms didn't let the hurt stop him from living, from continuing to fight. The Vampire King did not know if what Odin had done could be reversed, but Brahms was determined to TRY. He never gave up hope that with Odin's death, many of the wrongs in his life would be righted.

Brahms didn't believe he could ever turn back from what he had become. The parasite was too ingrained in him, too a part of him. He'd never regain his divinity, never be free of the parasite and it's hunger. He could only make the best of his situation, continue to live and fight for his right to existence. For his vampires right to THEIR existence.

Silmeria felt the change in Brahms' thoughts, the vampire's resolve stronger than ever. He would have his long denied vengeance, killing Odin, and taking his seat upon Creation's throne. He would force the other realms to accept the vampires, force them to recognize the key difference between them and those mindless monsters, the revenants.

It wasn't an easy path he set out upon. The fighting would extend for millennia. It was rough going, Brahms at times becoming disheartened. He had lived only for vengeance, but now he also had motivation to live for the vampires he had created. But that wasn't enough to make him happy, Brahms struggling, sometimes daily, to find joy in his life.

That joy would eventually manifest in the form of a Valkyrie. Silmeria saw herself appear on the plains of Idavoll, over a millennia after the war in the heavens had started in earnest. Silmeria was familiar with their encounters, but now she experienced them from Brahms point of view. It was unsettling, Silmeria witnessing the sincerity of Brahms' interest in her. She had never denied his interest, though Silmeria had often tried to deny the depth of the feelings Brahms claimed he had for her.

It was jarring to realize the vampire truly loved her. To the point it bordered on obsession. She witnessed the acts he did in the name of that obsession, the way he strove to get near to her. She'd even see his memories of her time as a fledgling vampire, Silmeria learning just how deeply her scornful words had cut. She was almost ashamed at how she had hurt him, Silmeria having to quickly remind herself Brahms was in the wrong for forcefully changing her.

But the main feeling she came away with, was an undeniable hope. The first true hope Brahms had felt in years. It was a hope centered on Silmeria, Brahms holding many expectations towards her and the kind of life they could have together. It was daunting, it was humbling, Silmeria realizing her very presence gave Brahms that which he had been missing all those years. Both happiness and hope. Silmeria didn't know if she could live up to those expectations. Nor did Silmeria know if she even wanted to try.

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Okay! The origin part is finally finished! Yay! But it really kicked my ass to write Brahms past.

To Be Continued...

Michelle
- 35
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- 37
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