OSVP 16

He never was able to catch up to Lenneth and her steed. Obsidian was simply too fast, holding boundless energy after months of being cooped up inside the stables. Every step seemed to increase the stallion’s speed, Obsidian seeming to race the very wind itself. Lenneth had been a blue and black blur atop the horse’s back, her hair streaming out behind her. She had shown not one ounce of fear, her voice crying out as she goaded the stallion on to even faster speeds.

Lezard had gamely tried to catch them, working his poor horse hard. But the dappled stallion had no fitting motivation, no reason to go as fast as Obsidian and Lenneth. It was content to trot along at a much more sedate pace, leaving Lezard to seethe in impatience. And fear, Lezard’s breath catching when Obsidian had taken a high jump over a fence.

It was difficult to watch Lenneth ride. Lezard conceded it would have been difficult no matter the horse, but it was especially so, so long as she rode such a wild and dangerously unpredictable steed like Obsidian. And all because Lezard was all too aware that the Goddess no longer had the protection of her divinity. She was mortal now, and one wrong move on the horse’s part, could either end Lenneth’s life, or severely cripple her.

His heart was in his throat, Lezard fearing for her. He thought if they survived this ride, a stern talking to would be in order. Lezard wondered if he could even hope to get away with forbidding Lenneth from ever riding again. But he acknowledged the Valkyrie might be as wild and unpredictable as Obsidian, and just as uncontrollable. His hands clenched on the reins of his horse, the stallion whinnying a protest. Already he was tired of the chase, wanting to return to the stables.

Lezard smoothed a hand on the side of the stallions’ neck, trying to offer him reassurance that the ride would soon be over with. But he had no way to communicate that desire to Lenneth, the former Goddess seeming content to ride away the morning. He wouldn’t abandon her, no matter how far ahead she got, Lezard following in her dust trail.

He would ALWAYS follow her. No matter where the trail led. Lezard had known himself lost to the Valkyrie from the first instant he had seen her face. There was just something about her that had captivated him, striking a devastating blow to his heart. Lezard had meant it when he told Lenneth he wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. And yet with Lenneth, it had been very much like love, Lezard wanting strongly from that instant on.

It was a want that led him to betray a great many people, most notably his own Goddess, the Queen Hel. He should be more frightened of what he was doing, but Lezard found the fear couldn’t compare to the fear generated by Lenneth’s near careless ride a top of Obsidian. And all because he was conscious that it was his fault that Lenneth was now vulnerable. His fault she could be injured, fall sick, or even die.

Lezard even knew that Lenneth could be tortured, by He’s own hand if the Goddess was to discover his betrayal. That knowledge made him sick, Lezard striving to keep both Odin and Hel happy as he walked a fine line between them. Both were vengeful deities, though Odin liked to project an outward appearance of being a kind and favorable God to follow.

Certainly that deception had won Odin many followers. More than Hel could ever hope to gain on her own. Not that the Goddess of Nifleheim wasn’t always keeping her eyes and ears open for the chance to steal worshippers’ from Odin. She was succeeding too, with her seductions and promises, and even her killings. Those she couldn’t manipulate in life, she easily took care of in death.

Lezard had not been lying when he had revealed to Odin the depths of Hel’s depravity. How she was actively working to steal the warriors that should have ascended to the heavens. Her theft manifested in many forms, a plague here, a killing there. How many had died? How many deaths had occurred that were not noble enough for the souls to ascend to Asgard? He did not know the actual numbers, but Hel’s armies were increasing by the day. Gaining her the warriors that should have become the Valkyrie’s einherjar.

Odin was a fool. That was Lezard’s private thought. By the God’s own decree, he had barred many from the heavens. Death by sickness, by old age, by murder. All of it preventing a soul from attaining the warrior’s paradise. Even those capable of fighting, if they died anywhere save for the midst of battle, they too were consigned to the underworld instead. It was a loophole Hel had found intriguing. A loophole she had capitalized on.

Odin was outraged by the knowledge. And yet knew not how to avert the catastrophe Hel was causing. Nifleheim’s Goddess had been sly, beginning her theft slowly. But as time passed, the trickle of deaths began to flow faster, until a veritable flood of new souls arrived in the underworld. There would be a reckoning one day, either through Hel’s design, or Odin’s.

Asgard couldn’t afford to be distracted by two wars. Hel might very well get the victory she so craved. It was up to Lezard to help Odin, to see that Asgard remained free of the Goddess’ grasp. Lezard hoped he was up to the task, though right now he had his doubts. Just as he doubted his ability to win over Lenneth. Even with the love enchantment firmly in place, Lenneth was proving difficult.

Lezard sighed, wondering if he would have even had a chance without Odin’s interference. Lenneth seemed so determined not to give any ground to him, fighting every gesture, every attempt he made to bring them closer together. The distance between them was huge, comparable to the distance between them now as they rode. They might never bridge the gap between them, Lenneth’s heart might always remain out of reach of him.

He didn’t know why that thought pained him. Why any of this should bother him. Lezard felt he should be satisfied with what he had, with the knowledge that once married, Lenneth wouldn’t be able to deny him. At least where their bodies were concerned. But damn it, he wanted more. He wanted her to love him, wanted to savor the smiles she might give him. Wanted to share private moments of true laughter between them.

He stifled a curse then, Lezard thinking his mind must be truly addled then. Since when had he ever wanted such a connection with a woman? Never. But then never had Lezard encountered a woman quite like Lenneth. He was close to becoming besotted with her, might already be sick with wanting her. How much worse would this pain in his heart become as the days stretched onwards, his love/lust unrequited?

Just the fact that he could even think of the word love with a woman and not scoff in disgust was troubling. But he was already so close to falling into it, Lezard knowing to love Lenneth would be easy. She was as he had said. Beautiful, intelligent, talented. Even the way she had fought on the plains of Idavoll, there had been elegant grace to her actions.

She enchanted him. Even more thoroughly than Odin’s spell had tried to enchant Lenneth. Even as Lezard feared for her well being, he couldn’t stop admiring the way she handled Obsidian. It wouldn’t stop him from chastising her about his fears, Lezard meaning to impress upon her the dangers of what she had done this day.

A sudden turn, and Lenneth was riding towards him. Her blue eyes were lively, full of excitement from the ride. Obsidian’s eyes were the same, the stallion looking happier than Lezard could ever remember seeing him.

“Shall we return to the castle?” Lenneth asked in a breathy tone of voice. It did things to him to hear her speak like that, Lezard trying to remember he was angry.

“Yes. If we delay any longer, we shall miss breakfast completely.”

“Then let us hurry!” Before Lezard could demand Lenneth slow down, she was clicking her heels. Obsidian let out a wild sound, the horse taking off at a brisk pace once more. Lezard swore a vicious curse under his breath, grappling with his own horse’s reins. The dappled stallion let out a protesting whinny, but picked up speed when it realized they were heading back to the castle’s stables.

And still Lenneth and Obsidian beat them there. By the time Lezard’s horse trotted into the stable’s area, Lenneth was already sliding off the back of Obsidian. The horse was breathing heavy, flesh lathered with sweat from the hard ride he had given. Lezard’s stallion was no better off, the horse eagerly going over to the post. The dappled horse would make a whinny of sound, impatient for Lezard to get off his back.

Lenneth had tied Obsidian to the post, and was using a brush to go over his furred body. Her back was to Lezard, her attention seeming solely for the horse. She seemed unprepared for Lezard’s approach, the mage unable to resist the impulse to put his arms around her.

“Lezard!” Lenneth gasped, the brush dropping from her hands. Obsidian snorted in disapproval, fidgeting restlessly in place. “Wh…what are you doing?!”

He didn’t speak for one moment, just holding her against him as he buried his face into the back of her hair. Lezard might even be trembling, all from worry over her actions with the horse. He could feel Lenneth’s confusion, as well as her unease. The woman didn’t know what to make of this unguarded moment of his.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Lezard finally said, his voice thick with choking emotion. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

“Scare you?” The surprise registered in her voice, Lenneth holding herself still in his needy embrace. “I didn’t think you were that easy to scare.”

“Don’t make light. Not about this.” He said fiercely. He relaxed his grip, allowing Lenneth to turn to face him. Her hair was disheveled, curled strands having escaped her braid. He wanted to touch her hair, to tenderly smooth back each of the loose strands. But he couldn’t afford to be soft in the moment, needing his upset to make her understand the danger she had put herself in. “Lenneth, you are mortal now. You can’t afford to take such chances…”

“Obsidian wouldn’t have hurt me.” She began to protest. He let out a ragged breath, shaking his head no.

“He might not have meant to, but there was still the chance of you falling! Or the horse misstepping! Gods, when I think of what could have happened, you thrown from Obsidian’s back, or crushed under his weight…” Lezard wanted to hug her again, his shaking increasing as he stared into her eyes. “Lenneth, you must promise me. From now on, you will ride at a more slow and sedate pace.”

Lenneth looked like she wanted to argue. But she didn’t speak a response immediately, instead looking him over. He didn’t know if she understood the concern in his eyes, or what Lenneth thought of the fear he was trying to hide. But after a moment, the Goddess nodded. “All right. I understand.”

“You need to do more than understand!” Lezard snapped in a tone that was harsher than he had ever intended to use with Lenneth. “You need to promise me!”

“Very well. I promise I will take care from now on when I ride.”

He didn’t relax, Lezard thinking it might be better to forbid her from riding ever again. But he also didn’t want to take away Lenneth’s freedom. “Thank you.” He said in relief, expelling a slow breath. It stirred the loose hair around her face, Lezard fighting the impulse to hug her close to him again. He instinctively knew she wouldn’t welcome another unasked for embrace, and yet he wanted to do it all the same.

It wasn’t just the hug he wanted. Lezard wanted to touch more than her arms, wanting to lay fingers on her face. To caress her cheeks and stroke her lips, memorizing the contours of her face with his fingertips. It was difficult to pull back. He didn’t quite succeed in resisting all his impulses. Lezard would actually reach towards Lenneth’s hair, allowing a long, loose strand to curl around his fingers.

She immediately froze at that, staring at him wide eyed. Lenneth’s expression was unreadable as Lezard tucked the hair over her right ear. She didn’t immediately try to stop him, Lenient keeping her eyes locked with Lezard’s. He tried to fathom what she was feeling in response to the touch on her hair, but really stood not a chance of understanding the inner mysteries of the Goddess.

“We…” A hesitation, Lenneth licking her lips nervously. How Lezard wanted to moan in response to that sensual sight. But he was aware such a reaction would only serve to frighten Lenneth. “We should probably go inside.”

“Inside?” Lezard felt he could remain forever in this moment. Just so long as he had Lenneth pressed against him, trapped between his body and that of Obsidian’s.

“Yes, inside.” Repeated Lenneth. “We don’t want to miss breakfast….”

“Breakfast can wait….” He wanted to kiss her, and even found himself leaning into her. Her eyes seemed to widen in response, and then Lenneth was abruptly turning her face to one side.

“We have company.”

Disappointment slammed into him, Lezard slow to realize she was right. He had failed to notice the approach of the stable hands, the teenage boys trying not to laugh as they openly stared at the Lord of the castle with his betrothed. Lezard wasn’t surprised they had been able to sneak up on him. After all his awareness had been taken completely with Lenneth.

Turning to look at the stable hands, Lezard stepped away from Lenneth. “See to the horses.” He told the boys. “They have been worked hard this morning. I think an extra treat is in order, to thank them for the ride they have given us.”

“Yes master.” One of the boys acknowledge, approaching the horse Lezard had ridden. Obsidian began to kick up a fuss when the second boy tried to touch him. Lenneth immediately turned to the stallion, her touch seeming to calm the beast.

“Easy there.” She murmured soothingly to the horse. “He’s not going to ride you. He’s only going to cool you down, and get you out of that uncomfortable bridle. Maybe even give you some apples.” The horses’ ears seemed to twitch, as though he had recognized the word apples. “Behave.” Lenneth urged one last time, giving the horse one last stroke of his mane.

Obsidian made a disgruntled sound, but held himself still for the stable hand’s touch. The boy was looking at Lenneth with awe in his eyes. Lezard had no doubt word would spread how the Valkyrie had tamed the most wildest of steeds in his stable.

Lezard wished that calming influenced could extend to himself. But his blood was boiling, stirred up with emotion and desire for the Goddess. He couldn’t help but curse the stable hands’ untimely arrival, Lezard wondering just what would have happened if he had managed to kiss Lenneth moments earlier. Would she have melted in his arms? Or would the encounter have ended with a slap?

Probably neither, Lezard recalling how Lenneth insisted she would not dishonor her King. That meant she would have held still for Lezard’s attentions, even if every fiber of her being protested the kiss. But Lezard didn’t want her feigning affection, didn’t want her viewing Lezard’s kiss as nothing more than something she must endure, something that was her duty.

He was a long way from making an emotional impact on Lenneth’s heart. It was only the second day since she had been handed over to Lezard’s keep, but the battle made him impatient for her. It also made him aware of time, the seconds ticking away, bringing them closer to the day when they would be married. Did he have enough time to win her over? Or would the wedding come and go, binding them in marriage but keeping them apart from each other’s bed?

“Lezard?” Lenneth’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, the mage glancing at her. He realized he had just been standing there, staring at her as she worked to calm the stallion.

“It’s nothing.” He said, longing to take hold of her hand. Even that little a touch would quicken his pulse, Lezard eager for contact with his betrothed. “Let us not delay any longer. Else our breakfast will turn cold.”

“Yes.” She moved to follow him, Lezard slowing so Lenneth fell into step besides him. He tried not to look at her, Lezard trying to regain his composure. But it was difficult with Lenneth so near, the side of her arm brushing against his as they walked.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lezard inquired. “Mystina and her group will most likely still be in the dining room….”

“I am not scared of them.” Lenneth lifted her chin, determination flashing in her eyes. There was probably little she was scared of, Lezard realized. She still retained
the fearlessness of her immortality, bold and ready to face challenges head on.

“I wasn’t accusing you of being scared.” Lezard quickly assured her.

“Then what were you doing?” She demanded.

“Just preparing you for a situation that holds the potential to be unpleasant.” He explained. “You’ve stirred Mystina’s dislike…”

“You think she will say something to me?” Lenneth asked.

“I would be more surprised if she didn’t.” Lezard admitted. They had entered the castle now. “Mystina can be spiteful thing once her displeasure is earned.”

“I can give as good as I get.” Lenneth retorted.

“I won’t doubt you on that.” Lezard chuckled slightly. “But I wonder how familiar you are with the weapons Mystina chooses to employ. It won’t be sword against sword, but something far more insidious.”

“Words can never cut as deep as a true weapon can.”

“I wonder about that.” Lezard murmured, holding open the door to the castle’s dining room. Lenneth gave him a quizzical look, but there was no time to explain. Not with the remaining occupants turning to look at them. When they saw it was the lord of the castle, they began to rise from their seats, ready to pay respects to Lezard and his betrothed.

Just as Lezard had predicted, Mystina and her group was still present at the table. They were surely on their third or fourth helping of breakfast, and it was only the fact that they were sorceresses that kept them from gaining weight from their over eating. Magic was known for burning up the calories at an alarming rate, the mages having to constantly replenish their energies by enjoying large meals.

Offering Lenneth his arm, Lezard would usher her along the long length of the table. Not all the nobles were present. With Mystina’s entourage, there was about seventeen people at all seated at the master’s table. Lezard would lead Lenneth to the head of the table, and guide her to seat down to the right of him. Servants had appeared, quick to pile plates full of the morning’s feast.

The plates were placed in front of them, the nobles waiting for their Lord to begin to eat before they retook their seats. Conversation was not immediate, the curious eyes of the nobles drifting towards Lenneth. They weren’t trying to be rude, they just couldn’t hide their fascination with the one time Goddess.

Mystina sat back in her seat, her gaze almost insolent as she stared at Lenneth. She was the only one who did not attempt to avert their eyes when the Goddess look towards her. Instead Mystina raised her goblet, mock saluting Lenneth with it. Lenneth frowned in response, not understanding what Mystian was doing.

“Lezard, Lenneth.” Mystina spoke. “So good of you to join us this morning.”

“Yes.” One of the nobles nodded his agreement. “The day is a bit brighter now that you are here.”

“The day has been bright all morning.” Lenneth said, confused. “I don’t think it has anything to do with Lezard or my presence here…”

“It is just a saying we have.” The noble was quick to explain. “Said when we are glad for the company we keep.”

“Oh. I hadn’t realized….”

“I bet there’s a lot you don’t know.” Mystina smirked, and hardly looked repentant when Lezard growled her name. “I don’t think Lezard has been taking the time to properly introduce you to mortal life.”

“Lezard is Lord of this castle, and as such has duties that extend beyond my education.” Lenneth said stiffly.

“And yet he took time this morning to go riding with you.” Mystina noted.

“I didn’t realize you had nothing better to do than go spying on us.” Lezard kept his tone pleasant, though his look was not. “I’ll be sure to remedy that shortly.”

“Oh goodness no! I merely inquired as to why you were late to this morning’s meal. There was no spying involved.” Mystina told him.

The tension between them was obvious, the nobles shifting, uneasy. One of them turned to Lenneth, his eyes briefly touching on her mussed hair. “Do you enjoy riding Goddess?”

“I am Goddess no more.” Lenneth reminded him. His face went pale, the man coughing.

“Er yes…pardon my slip.”

“But yes. I did enjoy riding Obsidian.” Lenneth continued, seeming oblivious to the shock that went through the crowd at the horse’s name. “Flenceburg is a lovely city.” Lenneth added, using a knife to peel a golden colored pear. “You must be very proud to make it your home.”

“It’s your home too.” Lezard reminded her. Something sad flickered in her eyes, Lenneth bowing her head in acknowledgment.

“That it is.” She said softly, biting into the pear.

“Perhaps you’ll feel more at ease after the wedding.” It was a woman, one of the rare females who wasn’t part of Mystina’s entourage. She smiled at Lenneth, surely meaning no harm in what she said. “Brides are often a bundle of nerves that calm down once married. You’ll be able to take stock of your situation, and worry less once the festivities are over with.”

“Festivities?”

“There will be a grand celebration.” Lezard explained. “Many will come to wish us well.”

“It will be a party.” Mystina added. “Much drinking and carousing.”

Lezard wondered if Lenneth had ever been to a party, if she had ever celebrated anything besides a victory on the battlefield.

“The entire city will celebrate.” Continued Mystina. “After all, it’s not often our Lord marries.”

“Not often?” A man laughed. “Try never!” He grinned at Lezard. “Always thought you would die a bachelor.”

“I was just waiting for the right woman to come along.” Lezard answered, making light of his words. He did a side long glance at Lenneth, but she didn’t look flattered.

“When will the wedding take place?” Lenneth asked abruptly.

“That’s what we all want to know!” Another man chuckled. “I don’t understand what you’re waiting for Lezard. If it was me, I’d marry her quick in case Odin changes his mind and takes her back to Asgard.”

“There’s still some preparations that need to be completed.” Lezard took a drink from his goblet. “Lenneth, I was hoping after breakfast you could spare a moment to see the seamstress. She has been inquiring after your measurements, wanting your gown to be perfect for the ceremony.”

“All right.” Agreed Lenneth.

“Why don’t I accompany you?” suggested Mystina. “I can fill you in on what is expected of the bride.”

“Mystina!” Lezard set down his cup, glowering at the sorceress. “I will not have you telling Lenneth stories!”

“You have a dirty mind if you chose to interpret my words that way!” Mystina snapped. “I merely meant to prepare her for the ceremony, and the festivities that followed. NOT the wedding night.” A smirk then, the blonde far too bold for Lezard’s liking. “I’ll leave that in your capable hands.” She stressed the word capable, but Lenneth didn’t rise to the bait. Nor did she look eager at the thought of going anywhere with Mystina.

Mystina looked close to pouting that she didn’t get the anticipated response from Lenneth. Lezard held back a sigh, wondering just what had been said between Lenneth and Mystina to have the sorceress be so antagonistic towards the former Goddess. But it was best to inquire in private, he decided as Lezard took a taste of the flavorful gruel in his bowl.

The talk would continue, other details about the upcoming wedding being discussed. Lenneth did not participate much in the conversation. Not unless asked a direct question. Anyone could see she wasn’t that interested in this discussion, the Goddess hardly one to care about what sort of colors and fabric would be used for the napkins and table cloths.

It was typically decisions left up to the woman. That included planning the meals that would be served at the wedding feast. Such talk only served to overwhelm Lenneth, the Valkyrie looking like she couldn’t wait to escape from the dining room. She wouldn’t get her chance any time soon, the group at the table loathe to give her up now that they had her attention.

Lezard was in the midst of thinking up an excuse to spirit Lenneth away, when a servant hurried into the room. He was ignored by nearly all at the table. Only Lenneth stiffened besides Lezard, instantly alert as she watched the servant hurry to his side.

“Yes, what is it?” Lezard demanded, gesturing impatiently.

“Forgive the intrusion. But the Goddess Queen is demanding your presence.”

“Queen Hel?” Lenneth asked, her voice a barely controlled hiss. She wasn’t the only one who was surprised, conversation stopping at the table.

“She doesn’t often contact you this early in the day.” Mystina’s smile was bright and cheery, but her eyes held malice to them.

“All the more reason I must go to her.” Lezard grumbled. He turned to Lenneth, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “This shouldn’t take long. Will you be all right here on your own.”

“I can manage.” Lenneth told him, her tone soft. Her displeasure was apparent, she didn’t like that he left her to go to Hel. “You mustn’t keep your Queen waiting.”

He really couldn’t but he was loathe to leave Lenneth. Biting back a curse, and not caring that everyone stared at them, Lezard laid a hand on top of Lenneth’s. “Remain here. I’ll return to you promptly.”

She merely bowed her head in agreement. Lezard wanted to go on touching her, to linger his hand on top of hers. Somehow he forced himself to move, to walk past the smirking Mystina, and out of the room. The servant that had delivered Hel’s message went to follow him, trailing behind Lezard by several steps.

“What is our Queen’s mood?” Lezard demanded of the servant.

“It’s not good.” The man answered back. “She is angry and seems impatient. She’s already trashed much of the room…”

Lezard fought his displeasure, realizing Hel’s latest visit would prove costly to him. “All right. You may go now.” He dismissed the servant, and took to the stairs. But he did not head to the rooms that made up the sleeping quarters of many of the nobles. Instead he turned to the left, walking past the large crest that bore Hel’s emblem. The corridors would stretch out before him, ultimately leading to his private rooms. That included his bedroom and his workshop, Lezard inwardly cringing at the thought of the damage Hel could be doing to his experiments.

A loud clatter was heard, something smashing apart either against the wall or on the floor. Lezard broke into a hurried run, not caring if it was undignified to arrive before the Queen breathless. Something else shattered, and Lezard threw open the door to the workshop, not bothering to knock. An urn flew towards his head, Lezard just managing to duck in time.

The urn was not so delicate as to break, being made of a heavy metal. But it would have hurt if it had struck him, might have even rendered him unconscious. Lezard noted with some displeasure just how foul a mood the Goddess was in, to so maliciously strike out against him.

Something else broke, Lezard straightening from his hunch. He knew Hel had to have noticed his arrival, but the Goddess’ malevolent energy was such, that it was crackling about the room, seeking a target. To speak might make him the target, but Lezard knew he had no other choice. He did not want Hel continuing her destruction of his workshop.

“You only do yourself a disservice by throwing this tantrum.” Lezard’s words, insolent at best, drew the Goddess gaze towards him. Her eyes flashed with malevolent purpose, the color seeming to change depending on her moods. Right now they were a dark, angry jade. He tried not to be affected with fear, Lezard allowing the door to close, sealing him into the room with Nifleheim’s Queen.

“This behavior is not fitting of a Queen.” Continued Lezard, walking towards one of his ruined experiments. He pretended to be assessing how much damage she had done to the body, but his awareness was focused completely on the Goddess. Wary should she choose to lash out one last time. “Or a Goddess.”

“You presume to tell me how I should and should not act?!” Hel demanded, her voice like thunder though it would never be heard outside of this room’s walls. He
nodded slightly to her question, hands touching the body, feeling the bones that had broken during Hel’s assault. “Then let us talk about your behavior. It is rude to keep a Queen waiting.”

“Perhaps it is.” Acknowledged Lezard. “But it was not done out of malice or spite. It was you who chose to make this unexpected call…I hurried as fast as I could to come to you, once aware of your arrival.”

“It is not just this visit that I allude to.” Hel shifted, drawing Lezard’s wary glance towards her. She was an odd mix of beauty and ugliness, one half of her face
scarred. Lezard sometimes wondered just what could have been responsible for the Goddess’ disfigurement, knowing the divine could heal just about any wound. But he would never dare ask, well aware of Hel’s vanity and how she reacted to any who might dare suggest she was less than perfect.

The other side of her face was smooth, beautiful even. It was a direct contrast to the scarred ruin of her right half, presenting a fascinating mix of deformed perfection. She never tried to hide her scarred side, Hel keeping her shoulder length hair swept back with a diadem. Diamonds glinted at the center of the diadem, with a hint of blood red in their cracks.

“You have been lax in your reports about Odin.” Hel clarified. “You know I need that information.” Her ruby red lips seemed to pout. “Especially if I’m going to make a move against his holdings in Midgard.”

“You shouldn’t rush, my Queen.” Lezard warned. “If you move too soon, you will alert him to the fact the alliance is not sincere on your part. And then where will we be? Hmm? The instant you attack, is the instant Odin closes up.” He let go of the body, turning to face her more fully. “You’ve waited years…longer than I have been alive for this chance. Why rush it now, and risk everything due to impatience?”

Hel appeared to be listening to his words, some of that malevolent energy lessening in intensity. The room no longer felt choked with, Lezard’s hair no longer tried to stand on end in response to it. “I will find out all of Odin’s secrets, all his defenses and plans. I will give that knowledge to you, and with it you will triumph over him. Asgard will be yours for the taking, the heavens molded to your desires.”

She liked that last one, her lips curling into a smile. But Hel’s smiles were deceptive, and could hide untold torments and cruelty within them. “You better.” Hel told him.

“I will.” It was perhaps foolish to interrupt her, but Lezard knew she needed the reassurance. “Who else is in prime position to betray Odin’s trust? Who else but I can get you his secrets? He trusts me as the liaison between you two. That trust will be his downfall.”

“Do not presume you have Odin’s trust.” Retorted Hel. “That man has little faith in anyone to keep his council. I dare say even Freya doesn’t know all his secrets.”

“He cannot be on guard all the time.” Lezard told her. “And the Lord of the undead keeps him distracted.”

“Brahms makes him desperate.” Corrected Hel. “If not for this endless feud, even you would not have been able to sway Odin towards allying with me.” It went both ways, Lezard thought. If not for Brahms, Hel might never try to usurp Odin’s power. She simply didn’t have enough allies and strength to engage Odin’s armies otherwise. If Odin’s forces became divided, trying to stamp out the threats of both the undead and Nifleheim, then perhaps Hel stood a chance of gaining a foothold into Asgard.

A shift in the air, Lezard scenting the heavy perfumes Hel wore. They could not entirely snuff out the smell of brimstone, the stench of death that clung to her skin. Hel was approaching him, gliding forward as though she floated on a cloud. She might very well be floating, her long green skirts covered her feet from view. Her eyes had changed color, from that dark angry jade to a greenish blue that might almost signal she was happy.

“You’ve always been a silver tongued charmer.” Hel lifted a hand towards him, as though she might caress his cheek. Lezard held himself still for this, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. Her touch would burn if it made contact with his skin. Burn but leave no mark unless she chose otherwise. “That tongue served us both well….I do not know what you said to Odin to get him to agree to this alliance. The heavens know I have tried in the past, countless times with many an emissary. You are the only one of my minions who have succeeded…and you have gone far past my expectations of you.”

That hand of hers didn’t lay on his cheek, instead going to caress his hair. It was a fond touch she gave him, but it hurt all the same. “I never dared dream you would charm Odin to the point he would fall over backwards to cater to you.” She continued, her voice now a sultry purr. “A Valkyrie for a bride…the first of many I hope.”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.” Lezard was pleased his voice didn’t betray his pain, or that his eyes didn’t water with agonized tears fro, her touch. “Odin is eager to prove his willingness to work with you. Eager enough to hand over a few Valkyries, and the children they will birth.”

Hel’s eyes gleamed with approval. She wanted those children, wanted them for the gifts and abilities they would gain from their mothers’ blood. “You never fail me, do you?” Hel asked, eyes searching his face for something she could use. “You may keep me waiting, longer than I can tolerate. But you do get the results I crave.”

“That I do.” It was a relief when she pulled away, Lezard’s scalp sore from where she had caressed.

“Go. Enjoy your Valkyrie bride.” Hel told him, her eyes almost seeming to twinkle with amusement. “But do not let her distract you to the point you forget your duty to me.”

“I will not.” Promised Lezard.

“Call Odin. Work that tongue of yours into gaining me the information I need to be successful against him.” Hel urged. “Do not rest until you have all his secrets in your hands….”

“It may take time.” Lezard warned. “Odin is not always forthcoming in our talks.”

“You will charm him all the same.” Ordered Hel coldly. “Or face the repercussions of your failure.”

“Of course.” He bowed, but never took his eyes off the Goddess’ face. “I much prefer to lead your armies than to wallow in the underworld’s torture pits.”

“Oh how little you think of my affection for you.” Hel smirked. “I would never leave my most promising follower to the demons’ care.” Lezard took no reassurance from her words, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “No, Lezard. If you disappoint me, it will be my hand that deals out your punishment.” Her eyes blazed then, like green flames of fire. But she was done speaking, done with this visit. Already her energies gathered around, dark bolts of purple electricity crackling over her form.

Some of that energy lashed out at random objects in the room. A vase shattered apart, and the broken body splurted viscous fluid from an orifice. The energy grew in strength, until a crackle of lightning sounded. And with that noise, Hel disappeared, leaving only smoke in her place. The smoke was thick and odorous, making Lezard cough and choke in response to it.

He muttered a spell in between fits of coughing. The spell would work to clear the workshop of the smoke. Lezard was left with the mess of Hel’s tantrum to clean up, the mage wondering if he could salvage some of the experiments she had destroyed. But before he could begin to attempt a clean up, Lezard knew he would have to get in contact with Odin. The Lord of Asgard needed to know of Hels’ impatience, but more importantly, Odin needed to give Lezard some information he could feed Hel. All in order to appease the Goddess, and lead her into thinking Lezard was succeeding in his supposed betrayal of Odin.