OSVP 07

There was a moment’s hesitation from the woman behind him before she resumed following him. Lezard could feel Lenneth’s eyes on his back, the former Valkyrie maiden uneasy with what she had just discovered. Uneasy was putting it mildly, Lenneth openly horrified and struggling to hide it. Lezard supposed he couldn’t blame her. If the positions had been reversed, and Lezard had been the one to find himself stranded in an enemy nation, dismay would be the least of the feelings coursing through him.

Of course Lezard would have tried to make the best of the situation. He was anything but stupid, the man calculating and sly. He’d have found a way to turn the situation to his favor, worked the angles until he emerged on top. He wondered if Lenneth would try for the same, or if fighting against the love enchantment would leave her to weary to do anything else.

Lezard had known from the instant she had struggled to push him away, that Odin’s love spell hadn’t taken root in her heart. That was mildly disappointing. But Lezard could also admit to being intrigued. He hadn’t realized a Valkyrie’s will could be so strong. That a Valkyrie could fight, maybe even break an enchantment cast upon her by her own King. He wondered which would prove stronger. Lenneth’s will or Odin’s enchantment. Lezard looked forward to finding out.

It wasn’t the only thing Lezard looked forward to. His lips seemed to tingle with the remembered warmth of the kiss he had forced upon Lenneth, though Lezard fought against the impulse to touch his mouth. It would be a betraying motion, one that might hint to the Valkyrie just how affected he had been by her. And that was something he could not allow. It would give Lenneth power over him if she or anyone else was to realize just how infatuated he already was with her.

But there was one who already knew. It had been unavoidable, Lezard being forced to reveal to Lord Odin just who he wanted for his bride. Lord Odin had reacted with a suitable mix of surprise and amusement. Lezard could remember the flustered heat rising on his face, the Flenceburg Lord trying for a casual response as he made his demands known.

Lord Odin had quickly squashed down his amusement, expression taking on a calculating look as he eyed Lezard. “So it is to be my Valkyrie Lenneth and no other?” His voice had been loud, even at that lowered tone as he had questioned Lezard. The mage from Flenceburg had managed a nod, having not dared speak for he had not trusted his voice in that moment.

“You ask for much.” Odin had said in response to his nod.

“As do you.” Lezard had cut in quickly.

“I realize that.” Odin had acknowledged. “It is no simple task I ask of you…You could be killed, or worse.”

“I am aware of the risks.” Lezard had said, managing to fight back a shiver of unease. Odin’s words had been true, Lezard risked everything, his life, his home, his very soul. It was only fitting that he was suitable rewarded for such an endeavor. And the reward had been his to dictate, Lezard not satisfied with the thought of just any Valkyrie becoming his bride. It had to be Lenneth, he would settle for no other woman.

“We both are aware.” Lezard had continued. “As do we both realize the danger. It is a danger that I will bear the brunt of, should we be discovered.” It had been a none too subtle reminder, one designed to guilt Odin into acquiescing to any and all of Lezard’s demands.

Odin’s eyes had lowered, the King of the Gods looking deep in thought. Lezard could not hazard a guess as to what had gone through the God’s mind, Odin was that unreadable to him. It had forced him to wait until Odin had broken the silence, Lezard trying not to fidget with impatience. As he waited, Lezard had cast his gaze about the empty throne room of Valhalla. It was as impressive a sight as he had always been led to believe, walls gilded silver and gold, with jewels embedded deep into the marble.

The insides of castle Valhalla certainly outshone Eljudnir, the castle of his lady, Queen Hel. Eljudnir for all it’s wealth and carefully crafted beauty, was a cold place. A place where danger lurked in every shadow. Valhalla might be the center of a battlefield, constantly besieged by vampires, but there appeared to be warmth suffused into the very foundation of the building.

That warmth surely had to do with the Gods and Goddesses who made the castle their home. They surely infused it with life, a direct contrast to the death and despair that seemed to permeate the very air of Eljudnir. But then, the two realms were very different, even with the shared similarity of housing the dead of the nine realms. Where Asgard received the fallen heroes, those who died honorably in battle, Nifleiheim was forced to receive those who were deemed unworthy of paradise. Those who died of sickness and old age, were at the forefront of those who sought lodging in Queen Hel’s domain.

Lezard had been to Hel’s castle a handful of times. And each visit only cemented further in his mind that the underworld was no place for the likes of him. Even as he did her deeds, his foul duty blackening his soul just a little more, Lezard railed against such a fate. It was just one of the reasons that had brought him before Odin, although even his journey to Asgard had been sanctioned by Nifleheim’s Queen.

Sanctioned? He had stifled a derisive snort at that moment. He had all but been ordered by Hel to journey to Asgard, and curry favor with the land’s King. Lezard had been playing into Hel’s plans from the moment he had left his castle in Flenceburg. Some would say he was still playing to Hel’s fiddle even now. But they hadn’t seen what Lezard had seen, the accomplished mage that was both alchemist and necromancer supreme wading into the battlefield. The fights that were waged here were never ending, the undead legions of Vampire Lord Brahms and Odin’s einherjar meeting time and time again. They knew no respite from the war, the battles raging for every hour of the days and nights that passed.

Lezard had been an unexpected element out on the battlefield. He owed allegiance to no one, certainly not to Brahms’ undead, nor to Odin’s warriors. Conscious of his mission, he had been careful with his spells, destroying only those undead legions that belonged to Brahms. With a cloak over his fine clothing, he blended in as any other warrior of the Valkyries. That had suited Lezard just fine, the mage steadily making his way to the castle as he unleashed spell after spell.

There were other mages out on the battlefield, although none could hold a candle to Lezard. His spells were simply that powerful. He had been smug then, finding proof that no mage in Asgard could come close to being his rival. It was the same in Flenceburg, and even in Hel’s domain. Lezard had been gifted with a superior and unnatural talent for spell slinging. But only of the destructive and deadly kind. He was woefully lacking when it came to the healing arts, although he didn’t often muse on that particular deficiency of his.

Not even the dangers of the battlefield could make him mourn for a talent he did not posses, Lezard using shielding spells to set up a barrier to deflect many of the attacks that came his way. What use did he have for the healing arts, if neither sword nor spell could touch him? That smug feeling persisted, Lezard thinking himself superior to all the other combatants. Even as he looked upon those who fought with contempt, Lezard continued to aid the Asgardians in their war.

It was a tide turning help he lent them, his spell casting catching the eye of several notable figures on the fields of Idavoll. Not even his attempts to suppress his power could keep Lezard from the Gods’ attention indefinitely. Even as Lezard made his way ever closer to Valhalla, word was reaching the ears of it’s Lord. He’d never know exactly what had been said, save that Odin’s interest was captured.

The God, the current King of the divine would make a rare appearance on the battlefield. All with the intent to seek out the stranger that was cleaving a path through Asgard’s undead foes. Of course Odin did not immediately appear before Lezard. There was time for a few dozen more of the undead to be destroyed by his spells. More time for the einherjar to marvel at Lezard’s power, more time for gossip to begin festering among the divine army’s ranks. But more importantly, there was time for Lezard to catch all too brief glimpses of HER.

He’d never know what first drew his attention to that particular Valkryie. There had, after all, been a handful of Valkyrie out on the field. Each one more beautiful than the last, domineering and commanding. They knew their weapons well, swords thrusting, bows singing. Blood and gore flew all about them, sometimes splattered across their bright and colorful armors.

She had been among the half a dozen who fought to keep control of this segment of Idavoll. Her armor a cobalt blue color, one that offset the blue of her eyes. Those eyes hadn’t flashed with the battle lust that many of her sisters wore. She had been cool and assessing, even as she fought just as hard and as valiantly as any other of the Valkyries.

His first glimpsing of the battle maiden in blue hadn’t seemed significant. His own gaze had briefly passed over her, the woman moving too fast for him to properly see her face. She had moved with the speed of the divine, a speed only matched by the teleportations the vampires employed. Her sword’s thrust was true, finding hearts and taking heads, again and again. Not that he had lingered on her with that first glimpse. Lezard had had his own opponents to deal with, his own weapon to wield. Spell after spell was cast, charring flesh from bone, exploding apart bodies. And then another glimpse of her was sighted, Lezard spying the long braid of platinum that streamed out from beneath her feathered helm.

It was a most unusual color, the kind that changed depending on how the light hit it. Where one moment her hair was silver, the next it would bear the faintest hue of blue. It was long for a warrior, and yet never did that waist length braid impede the female’s movements. It seemed as alive as the woman, always avoiding the grasping hands of the undead who sought to trip the Valkyrie with her own hair.

That hair of hers had allowed Lezard to keep track of her on the battle field. Even when she was her farthest from him, Lezard had been aware of her. Watching as she moved with a dancer’s grace. Truly, she had made killing an art form, welding her blade with ruthless efficiency and effortless ease. For all her killings, the blood barely touched her, the woman dancing away from the gore before it’s splatter could reach her.

It was impressive, but then all the Valkyries were. She certainly shouldn’t have stood out to him. And yet he had found himself actively tracking her movements on the battlefield, to the point he was fighting his way to get a step closer to her. But she had remained elusive, her face always turned from him. A yearning took root in his heart, Lezard finding he needed to know just what she looked like beyond the color of her eyes and hair.

Other Valkyrie would cross his path, the warrior maidens darting about as they fought. Lezard had found his spells flying faster, the mage near careless with the amount of power he was now using. The battle maiden in blue continued to be elusive, always ten steps ahead of Lezard no matter how hard he had fought to reach her. His attempts would take him off the path he had chosen, Lezard being drawn farther and farther from Valhalla. He had a moment to think he was being foolish, risking everything just to get a glimpse of a female who would surely prove no more extraordinary than any other.

And yet he had still persisted. Right up to the moment he sensed a presence behind him. It was an obscene amount of power that flowed off the presence, Lezard stiffening his back in reaction to it. Lezard could remember the fear that had come when he had realized the power was being sent to him through a suppressing filter. That it wasn’t even one-tenth the being’s true potential.

He had known then his spells wouldn’t protect him from the God lurking at his back. Lezard had gone still, allowing only his shields to remain in place as to prevent any stray arrows from piercing his flesh. A gust of wind would ruffle his hair, the God sighing behind him. And then a low voice would speak, the man’s tone admiring.

“They are beautiful, are they not?”

Lezard had known instantly who the God referred to, the mage slowly nodding a yes in response. “Beautiful and deadly.” Lezard had noted, surrounded by over a dozen examples of how deadly the Valkyries were.

A soft rumble of a laugh had sounded behind them. “It is an intriguing mix is it not?” The God had inquired. Again Lezard had nodded for even he was not immune to the charms of the Valkyrie maidens. “The soft beauty of a woman, tempered with the violent aggression of a man. But unlike those mortal creatures, my Valkyries hold neither the vanity of a woman, nor the weakness of a man.”

He had known that the last had been spoken in an attempt to incite him, and still Lezard had bristled. “And just what weakness is that?”

“Greed, lust, cruelty. Those many, many dark little impulses your kind has to do harm to others. I could go on for an eternity, and still not cover them all.” There had been a mocking quality to the God’s voice. It had left Lezard struggling not to respond further. He could remember letting out a deep breath, his eyes resuming their study of the Valkyrie in the cobalt blue armor. Watching her had taken off some of the edge of the anger that had been slowly boiling within him. It was an anger that had left him dull-witted for one brief instant, and then something else the God had said had registered.

“YOUR Valkyries?” It had been more shock than anything that had gotten Lezard to speak, the mage realizing just who he had dealt with. Odin, the very King he had come to speak to. The very God he was supposed to manipulate.

“Each and every one.” Odin had acknowledged, the faintest smile on his face as Lezard turned to look at him. “For as long as they can fight, they are mine. Mine to do with as I see fit.”

Lezard hadn’t need to ask what would happen once a Valkyrie was no longer capable of fighting. It was known through out all the nine realms, the Valkyries an attractive lure for many who would tie themselves to an alliance with Odin. Many a man would give a limb for just the chance at marrying a former Goddess, to have their children be so blessed as to gain their mother’s select pedigree.

Beauty, brains, athletic and strong. The Valkyrie were the ideal women in many ways. Even in Flenceburg, where they were free of Odin’s reign, the men there lusted after the warrior Goddesses. But it was a lust that was meant to go unfulfilled so long as the people there continued to ally themselves with Queen Hel. The lust for the Valkyrie was strong, but so was the lost for power and wealth. Perhaps Odin wasn’t that far off when it came to mortal men and the weaknesses he perceived in them.

“Lord Odin.” Lezard had said out loud. His tone was respectful, but it lacked the reverent awe that many of Midgard would have held. But then Lezard wasn’t like many of the other mortals, and he had had experience with the divine. Even if that divine was merely a fallen Goddess, who now ruled over the underworld and certain parts of Midgard.

Odin would give the slightest bow of his head in acknowledgment. No one around them had seemed to even notice the God’s presence, and Lezard had wondered if the suppressive feeling played a part in cloaking Odin from the combatants.

The God would then look him over, his gaze expectant. Lezard would realize he was rattled by the sudden appearance of Odin, the mage starting his own bow. That was the most respect he could afford him, Lezard not about to go down on his knees before a God he didn’t follow.

“You are not an einherjar.” Odin had stated, his eyes narrowing. “The scent of death may cling to you, but it is a smell that has more to do with your deeds than your state of being.” Another once over had been given to him, before Odin had nodded. “Necromancer. I have been expecting you.”

Lezard hadn’t been surprised that Odin had recognized him for what he was. Any more than he had been surprised to know the God had been waiting for his arrival. He had hoped though, that the God was prepared to receive him as visitor and not a threat.

“It’s very…” A slight hesitation had come from Lezard then, the mage carefully choosing his words. “Kind of you to come greet me yourself.”

“I was curious.” Odin had confided. Lezard had lifted an eyebrow at that. “I thought to myself, what reason could Hel have to send one of her minions to me. She’s certainly not fool enough to think I’d entered into an alliance with her, is she?”

“Queen Hel is prepared to make it a very lucrative alliance.” Lezard had smoothly said. Odin had looked at him a moment, and then let out a laugh.

“You don’t expect me to really believe that, do you?” Odin had asked. “What could she possibly offer me that I don’t already have?” A grand gesture around him encompassed the combatants, the einherjar and Valkyrie winning the fight against the undead. “I have all the soldiers I need, picked fresh from those who have died. What does Hel have, save for the remnants? The weak and the damned, those not fit for paradise?”

Lezard’s face had heated up in response to that, but he refused to allow the God the power to rile him up further than that. “And what of the living? There are many in Midgard who follow Hel…many who could be utilized in your war with the undead.” His voice had taken on a seductive undertone. “You’ve seen my power, have you not? Gotten the briefest taste of what I am capable of. Imagine an army of powerful mages at your command…”

“The power you wield is tainted by your mistress’ hands.” Odin had been dismissive. “It is a power so corrupt, it makes you little better than Brahms ilk.”

“We could never be consider similar to the undead!” Lezard had snapped in protest. “The undead see us only as a food source, and potential numbers to bolster their armies.”

“And yet your kind falls the fastest when it comes to the undead’s seductions.” Odin had retorted. “Is Hel’s domain so horrible that so many of you would prefer the life of an undead to eternal rest in Nifleheim?”

“I cannot say either option is all that attractive.” Lezard had replied. “But then the paradise fields of Asgard have long been denied to all but the elite who fight and die in your name.” That last had been bitter, the words seeped in anger.

“You think it wrong of me to deny some paradise?” Odin had asked, then continued at Lezard’s stiff nod. “But what is the promise of paradise if it was given freely to any and all? One must work to achieve it, and my demands are not so harsh.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Lezard hadn’t been able to keep from sounding rude. “Not everyone can fight. Not everyone is…”

“Anyone can fight.” Odin had interrupted him. “But it is those with skill and talent, that can fight well.”

“So you would have the skillless, the untrained fight? All in order to be slaughtered, just for the chance to get into paradise?” Lezard had been full of disbelief then, nearly shaking with shock from Odin’s arrogance.

“That is a choice left up to the mortals.” Odin had calmly retorted. Lezard had seethed then, thinking it had been a mistake to have come here. But he hadn’t, couldn’t turn away, conscious of the mission he had been sent on, the things he must accomplish.

But he hadn’t been ready to continue the talk with Odin, Lezard had been full of angry energy that wouldn’t allow him to soften his words. The Valkyries and einherjar had continued to fight, though the number of undead present had drastically lessened. Out the corner of his eye, the braided platinum had flashed, the battle maiden he had admired closer than ever to him. He didn’t quite turn, though Lezard had used the sight of her to calm down the worse of his anger.

“Queen Hel is prepared to give you anything.” Lezard had said at last. “Anything at all.” He had stressed, watching, waiting for the Valkyrie to turn enough so he could see her face.

“She is desperate then?” Odin had inquired, the smirk apparent in his voice. “Or is it something else….something you are not telling me?”

“What else could there be?” Lezard had asked tonelessly. But he had feared Odin would fathom his true purpose here. And with that fathoming, strike him down for Hel’s daring.

“It is strange…it’s been centuries since Hel has pushed so hard to form an alliance with me. Even longer since she sent one of her minions to play advocate for her.” Odin had sounded thoughtful then, but Lezard had known it was an act to lull him into speaking more freely than he should. “Is your Queen really intent on an alliance? Or does she seek something beyond that?”

Odin had been too close to the truth, and Lezard had fought an internal struggle not to make a betraying sound or motion. His eyes stayed on the battling Valkyrie’s form, using the pleasure of her fighting dance to calm his inner being.

Odin continued to voice his musings besides him. “She couldn’t be thinking of stirring trouble could she?”

“And what trouble would that be?” Lezard’s tone had been bland, his thoughts urging the battle maiden to turn towards him.

“You tell me.” Odin had said in a level tone. It was at that precise moment, the Valkyrie pivoted on her heel. It had been night, the round moon high in the evening sky. It’s light was predominately eclipsed by the dark clouds that crowded the sky, but there had been enough. Certainly enough for Lezard with his mortal eyes to be able to see the Valkyrie’s face for the first time. It was a sight that left him staggered, his heart seeming to leap to his throat and choke him.

She was more than beautiful, she was ethereal. Divine beauty with exotic features, and a determined look in her eyes. He shouldn’t have been any more moved by her looks than he had been by her sisters, and yet there he was. Awestruck. Lezard had known then and there he had to have her. And that he would do anything, pay any price for the obtaining.

Even worse, he must have made some sound, for Odin was reacting. “Ah, her name is Lenneth. A most favored daughter, her accomplishments as Valkyrie number in the thousands.”

“Lenneth…” Lezard had breathed out her name with all the awe and reverence he had not given Odin. His eyes drank in greedily of her armored cover form, his heart letting out a mournful pang when she turned away. The glimpse of her face had been all too brief, and foolishly Lezard had wanted to chase after her. But somehow he had remained rooted in the spot, struggling with his unfamiliar longings. He wasn’t used to infatuation, wasn’t used to desiring a woman wholeheartedly. But one look at Lenneth, and he had been lost, ready to damn himself in a way that had nothing to do with the torture pits in Nifleheim.

Odin had surely read the reactions in him, and was prepared to capitalize on it. “Has your Queen approached anyone else in regard to an alliance?” It might seem a foolish question. Not many if any would be willing to ally with the underworld’s queen. Not so long as she operated out of Odin’s sanction. And yet she could become a formidable opponent, if given enough time and resources and information.

The information was the key, the reason why Lezard had really been sent to meet with Odin. To lull the King with false sincerity, and all the while pluck from him the Asgardians’ secrets. All for Hel to use, to further her own ambitions.

“No…not exactly.” Lezard had admitted, and reluctantly turned away from the sight of Lenneth. He had boldly locked eyes with Odin, telling him this. “We need a more suitable place to talk if you expect me to be truthful with you in any instance.”

“That a minion of Hel’s can be truthful at all shocks me.” Odin had chuckled, right hand glowing with ether as he cast it over Lezard. The teleportation was a jarring effect, reality blurring around them so that only a mesh of colors existed. A wind rustled his cloak, and some force pulled at his body. Lezard would find himself deposited on his knees in the great throne room of Valhalla. Odin would already be seated on his throne, pose casual and relaxed.

“Well, mortal? Speak.” Odin had bid him.

“I am not so foolish as to reveal Hel’s true ambitions without securing a promise from you.”

Odin had looked outraged. “You dare presume you have any right to my promises?!”

“It is a daring that will keep me alive.” Lezard had countered. But he hadn’t been able to smile. “You must give me your word that no harm will befall me from either your hand, or your people’s.”

Odin would consider this for several long minutes, before nodding with a grumbling. “So be it. I swear on my father’s name, and all I hold holy, no harm shall be done to you by me, or my people.” A disarming smile. “I cannot say the same for your Queen’s intentions.”

Lezard would stifle a shudder. “She can never know I am telling you this.” Odin would gesture impatiently for Lezard to continue, the mage fighting back a scowl. “Queen Hel is not in the market to ally with you any longer.”

“Oh? Then why send you here? Why come to me with such a story?”

“She is merely biding her time.” Lezard had admitted. “She intends to wage war with you…to take advantage of your distraction with the undead. It is an advantage she hopes allows her to take Asgard and your holdings in Midgard.”

“WHAT?!” Odin had risen from his throne, his eyes angry and furious. His whole body had radiated with violent intent, making Lezard glad he had extracted that promise from Odin. Otherwise the God surely would have killed Lezard then and there in reaction to Hel’s plans. “She would dare?!”

“She dares that and more.” Lezard had projected an outward calm he did not feel.

“And you? What role does she thrust you into?”

“I was to secure your trust through any means possible.” Lezard had answered. “I was to play the spy, to learn what I could of Asgard defenses and secrets.”

“All to better help Hel conquer this realm.” Odin had grimaced, and Lezard had nodded. The God would sink back into his seat, and for a long moment both men were quiet. When Odin would finally break the silence, he would cast Lezard a shrewd look. “Why tell me this now? Why betray your mistress?”

“I have long been unhappy with certain aspects of Hel’s rule.” Odin began to laugh at that, clearly disbelieving Lezard. “It’s never been enough to get me to do anything about it though.”

“And I suppose one meeting with me has changed all that?”

“Not you.” Lezard had answered, and Odin eyed him suspiciously. “Not exactly.”

“Then?”

“There are two things I want from you.” Odin would relax then. He well understood the concept of wanting a favor that only the King of the Gods could grant.

“And just what are these things that only I can give you?”

“I want paradise.” Lezard would explain. “I want your guarantee, that when I die…it is not to Hel’s underworld I go to.”

“A sinner like you in Asgard’s paradise? Preposterous!” Odin had grumbled.

“You can make it possible.” Lezard had retorted.

“You ask for much…..maybe too much for what little you’ve given me.” Odin would point out.

“I am not a one trick pony.” Lezard would tell him. “I can give you further information about Hel’s plans, not limited to just one day. I can do for you, what I was supposed to do for the Goddess. Play your spy…” Odin had looked unimpressed, Lezard refusing to let desperation fill his voice. “You can’t begin to imagine all she is intending to do. The alliances she’s made, the attacks she planning. I am privy to a great deal of things, and I can share that knowledge with you. It might be the only thing that keeps Hel from annihilating you and your brethren.”

“I am not convinced Hel is so big a threat as to be able to kill the other Gods.”

“Even when your armies are weakened and distracted by Brahms’ undead?” Lezard had asked, and Odin’s face had twisted into a sour expression.

“She has no real army. What can she possibly hope to do?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Lezard had asked softly. “The drop in newly acquired einherjar?” By Odin’s expression he had, and the fact troubled him. “It is no mere chance. It is all through Hel’s designs.”

“What has she done?” Odin had demanded in a hoarse tone of voice.

“I will play the spy for you both.” Lezard had said instead of answering Odin’s question. “You will give me harmless information to relay to my Queen. Enough tidbits to make her think I am successful at her mission. And all the while, I will be giving to you Hel’s secrets and plans.”

“So you play the double agent then.” Lezard would nod to that. “And how would I know you are not playing me for a fool, and feeding Hel information that would damn Asgard in the process.”

“You don’t.” Lezard had answered. “You would just have to trust me.”

“Trust does not come easy, especially to one who bears Hel’s mark.” Odin had admitted.

“It’s a trust you’ll have to give, all the same.” Lezard had answered back. “Now, we’ll have to make it seem you really have bought into Hel’s desire for an alliance. As such, I think you should give a gift to me. One which shows just how highly you favor my help.”

“And this would be the second of your demands?” Odin had asked wryly.

Lezard had smiled at him. “You know me all to well.”

“I know you not at all.” Odin had said with a rude snort. Lezard would smirk in response, and explain he wanted a certain Valkyrie for his bride. Odin had reacted with outrage, thinking that too high a favor to grant. Lezard would quickly remind Odin that they were trying to fool Hel into thinking Odin believed in the alliance. And what better way than to grant her emissary a highly sought after prize.

The fact that it was Lenneth that Lezard wanted would prove a source of amusement for Odin. That triggered a warning inside of Lezard, but his desire for the Valkyrie won out over any suspicions he might have had.

Odin would not answer him right away, leaving Lezard to stand there waiting. He had been impatient, and fighting not to hurry Odin in his decision. But at last Odin’s gaze would sharpen, the man looking at Lezard and nodding. “You shall have Lenneth as your bride. BUT!” A finger was raised. “At a cost to you.”

“A cost?”

“You’ve asked me for two valuable prizes. You cannot have both. If you take a Valkyrie as your bride, Asgard’s paradise will be forever denied to you.” Odin had smiled, that expression an evil little smirk on his face. “What will it be mortal? Lenneth or paradise?”

He hadn’t hesitated. “I would rather have a lifetime of paradise with Lenneth as my bride, then spend an eternity in Asagrd without her.”

Odin had stared at him, an unreadable look in his eyes. “So be it.” The very building would shake in the advent of those words, Lezard feeling the promise being written into his very soul. They would have much to talk about then, the least of all being Hel’s interference with Asgard’s influx of warriors. Lezard was predominately occupied with just when and how Lenneth would come to him, the mage stressing she was not to be hurt in the process. Odin would tell him to leave the details of Lenneth’s arrival in his hands.

It would take some weeks before the arrangements could be made. It was weeks of anticipation on Lezard’s part, tinged with the thrill and fear that at any moment Hel would discover the deal he had brokered with Lord Odin. Lezard took the fact that he was still alive as proof Hel did not suspect any wrong doing on his part, but he was still wary.

That wariness couldn’t dampen his pleasure at Lenneth’s arrival in his home. Nor could her lack of enthusiasm towards him make Lezard regret what he had done. There was time to work past her reluctance, to win her over. He knew it would be a difficult journey, confounded by her upset over the situation she found herself in. It was disheartening that Lenneth viewed him as her punishment, but Lezard was sure in time she would work free of such sentiments.

There were other factors to consider of course. There was that sister of hers, that sibling by blood whose fate clearly tortured his bride’s every thought. He had seen those silent tears that weeped out of closed eyelids as Lenneth had slept under Odin’s enchantment. What had happened to Silmeria might be something Lenneth might never get over, and Lezard could only hope he could somehow help the Valkyrie maiden to find some way to cope with her loss.

Lenneth was troubled to be in a nation of her King’s enemy. At the moment there was nothing Lezard could do to reassure her about that. He wondered if it would be cold comfort to know she was about to wed a man who was a spy for her King. A man who in return for her hand, would endeavor to do any and everything possible to keep her former home land safe from the underworld’s queen.

His thoughts would take only minutes to play out, Lezard silently leading Lenneth on a tour of his home. He tried to imagine his castle from Lenneth’s eyes, wondering what she thought of her mortal surroundings. Even with the power he commanded, it was beyond his talents to make his home as richly appointed as Valhalla or
Eljudnir. But it was a warm place, full of life from the people who worked and lived inside the castle’s walls.

Those people were reacting with curiosity at the sight of the Valkyrie maiden. Some were openly staring, while others quickly averted their eyes as to do no disrespect to the former Goddess. Conversations quieted, muted whispers of sound trailing in the wake of Lezard and Lenneth’s passage. At least, until a door open, and a group of women spilled out into the hall.

“AH! There he is!” A tall woman with gold spun hair was in the lead. Her gown was bright purple color, with emerald lace edging over the bodice’s curves. Lezard stifled a groan at the sight of the woman, watching as she headed determinedly towards him. The women she was with, followed at her heels, giggling and talking loudly.

“Hello Mystina.” Lezard would barely manage to sigh out, the woman speaking over him.

“Is that her? Is that the Valkyrie?” The blonde wanted to know, her eyes wide and delighted as she gazed at Lenneth. “Why she’s as beautiful as they say Valkyries are supposed to be!”

“Look at her hair!” One of Mystina’s companions would say.

“I’ve never seen such a color.” Another would say.

“Lezard, when were you going to introduce us?” Mystina demanded, and then moved passed him to approach Lenneth. The other women would follow, and the Valkyrie would find herself in the center of the group. The women were all cooing needlessly, in awe of the former Goddess. Some were even attempting to touch her, and Lezard stiffened in displeasure.

“Ladies don’t crowd her so!”

“Relax Lezard.” Mystina hardly seemed reassuring. “We just want to admire the Valkyrie!”

Being admired seemed the last thing Lenneth wanted, the Valkyrie looking ill at ease. Once Lezard would have been amused, but now he felt a strange sort of pity for the girl. It had to be overwhelming, Mystina and her entourage firing a million questions at the Valkyrie. They were all speaking at once, their voices mingling together so it was difficult to make out much of their chatter.

Tempted to use an offensive spell, Lezard forced himself into the group. He’d grasp hold of Lenneth’s hand, and amidst the disappointed and protesting chatter, began pulling her free. Mystina would let out an angry retort, telling him he couldn’t keep the Valkyrie all to himself. He wouldn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, breaking into a run as he dragged Lenneth along behind him.