OSVP 33

Hel’s screams continued, though they had weakened in volume. It was fitting, for the Goddess was weakening beneath him, her hands feeble as she tried to push Brahms off of her. She had broken a fingernail in her attempts to scratch down his chest, the Goddess not even breaking open his skin for all her efforts. She tried slapping him, pounding her fists wildly against the sides of his head. It didn’t even phase him, Brahms ignoring all her efforts, concentrating solely on the point of connection between them.

His mouth was fastened to her neck, his fangs sunk inside her as deep as they could reach. Her blood was a constant flow in his mouth, Brahms greedy, swallowing it down as fast as he could. It felt good to drink it, it’s taste better than the sweetest of ambrosia. He didn’t understand why this act wasn’t disgusting him, why the blood wasn’t repulsing him, nor did Brahms stop to examine the absurdity of what he was doing. He merely fed, existing only for this moment.

Hel was beneath him, her body stiff with fright and pain. His hands were gripping her shoulders, keeping her pinned to the bed as he fed. The warmth and vitality of her blood, it was filling him, chasing away aches and pains that had unfortunately become familiar to him. He no longer felt so weak, so helpless. He felt revitalized, and wanted MORE of that feeling.

Hel let out one last pitiful scream, and then her voice broke on a sob. Not even that could reach through to Brahms, the man drinking down the very life-force that animated the Goddess. His body felt flush with power, strength surging through him. And yet it wasn’t enough, Brahms needing more of Hel’s blood before he would be satisfied.

He had been hungry for so long, starving for weeks now. The foods he had been given had done nothing to appease him, could not compare to the blood he was drinking now. Silmeria had thought she had known true hunger, but what she had felt was nothing compared to the starvation Brahms had gone through. It scared her as much as amazed her, Silmeria wondering how in the world Brahms had avoided becoming a revenant.

He wouldn’t become one now, not with Hel’s life filling him. Sustaining him. He was left empowered, his emotions wild, Brahms in a feral state of bliss as he drank Hel closer to her death. Her struggles had all but stopped, Hel doing the feeble squirming beneath him. It roused the beast that had taken root inside him, Brahms finding he was EXCITED by her. Excited in a way he had never felt, not towards Hel, not towards any of the Goddesses in Asgard.

With Hel’s own blood fueling him, Brahms began to get aroused. His cock grew in size, struggling to break free of the confines of his pants. His newly awakened lusts just added to his frustrations, Brahms savage at Hel’s neck. She wasn’t moving that way on purpose, her body twitching as the Goddess began to go into convulsions. And yet he couldn’t stop, Brahms growling as he began grinding against her, all in an effort to relieve himself of his erection.

It wasn’t any care from Brahms that saved Hel from rape. He had simply been too consumed with her blood, too taken with feeding to think clear enough to free them of their clothing. The blood taking was violation enough, Hel dying a slow, painful death in his arms.

And then a voice was screaming at him, as aghast as he was angry. Something hit Brahms, some powerful form of energy that knocked him off the Goddess. His fangs had torn free of her skin, blood spurting out even as her divinity worked to heal the wounds. Hel was pale, white as a sheet and unconscious by this point. Brahms could remember hissing, teeth exposed in a feral snarl. He had wanted to finish with the Goddess, was incensed that someone had interrupted them.

Energy crashed into him again, this time striking Brahms in the chest. Such was the force of the energy, it sent him flying back. Brahms hit the wall, landing just inches from where the narrow sunbeam lay on the floor. He was not yet recovered to thinking straight, it would take a third attack of energy to jolt Brahms into awareness. And when that happened, his own skin paled, Brahms staring towards the bed.

His brother Odin was there, the silver haired God keeping one eye on Brahms as he reached out towards the fallen Goddess. Hel did not stir, just laying there. Most of her blood had gone into Brahms’ mouth, but there was a few splatters that had stained her once beautiful dress. The sapphires and diamonds were scattered all around her, her necklace destroyed by Brahms’ own hands.

Odin fingers felt for Hel’s pulse, hovering over her newly healed neck. But her powers hadn’t been enough to prevent a scar from occurring, Odin seeming loathe to touch that mark of imperfection. “What have you done?!” Odin bellowed, and lashed out with his arm. Another ball of ether flew towards Brahms, the man not attempting to get out of the way. Brahms actually welcomed the energy crashing into him, reveled in the pain now that he was conscious of the crimes he had committed against Hel.

He didn’t cry out, didn’t so much as whimper, enduring the energy rolling over him. He felt sick again, but it had nothing to do with the illness that had plagued him for weeks. No, this was revulsion, the disgust making Brahms retch. Blood fell from his lips, the vomit stained with it. And yet he still felt energized, his body renewed, feeling as though it had never been sick at all.

He was no longer hungry. That realization made his sides heave, Brahms trying to throw up a second time. But his body stubbornly held onto the blood, held onto the life he had stolen from Hel. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Odin doing something to Hel, casting some sort of healing energy into her. Brahms prayed that it would be enough to save the Goddess, not wishing to have been the cause of her death.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?!” Odin demanded, still forcing energy into Hel. She didn’t so much as moan, just laying there deathly pale. Brahms let out an anguished moan, mentally willing Hel to get better. It couldn’t end for her, not like this, not at his hands. He did not love her, but that didn’t mean he wished for Hel to die!

“You’ve killed her!” Odin continued to rail. “How could you?! She trusted you, she LOVED you!”

“I know….I know!” Brahms moaned out, covering his face with his hands. They were shaking, HE was shaking. He remembered the trust in Hel’s eyes, the love she had had for him. The innocent but eager way she had kissed him. She had gone into his arms willingly, but Brahms knew Hel would have never consented for what he had done to her following their kiss. He was a monster, who had preyed upon her, taken advantage of her love. “Hel…”

He had somehow gotten up off the floor, moving with unnatural speed towards the bed. Odin actually gasped, seeming frightened of his own brother. That fright was quickly replaced with anger, Odin throwing more ether at Brahms. It crashed into him, Brahms hitting another wall.

“Stay back! Don’t come near her! Not after what you’ve done!” Odin shouted.

“But I…”

“You don’t deserve the chance to do any farther harm to her!” Odin shouted. “You don’t even deserve to look at her, to breathe the same air as her!”

“But I want to help!” Brahms made a protesting bellow. “Let me help her! Please…I’ll…I’ll do anything…”

“You’ve done enough!” Odin said stiffly. Brahms screamed, the sound an unnatural shriek born of his pain and frustration. Another wave of energy rolled into him, Odin reacting to that sound to hurl more balls of ether at Brahms. It served to do nothing but enrage him, Brahms suddenly lunging towards his brother. Sometimes the ether hit him, but more often than not, Brahms moved too fast for them to land.

Brahms wasn’t thinking beyond getting to Hel. In doing something, anything to help save her. Odin was an obstacle to that purpose, one he would remove if that is what it took. His first fist caught Odin in the face, the God’s head turning to the side with a sickening crunch. Another blow would graze off the God’s temple, Brahms trying to hit his brother for a third time.

Odin’s arm came up, his hand grabbing at Brahms wrist. Stopping the blow from landing. His other hand went in low for Brahms’ stomach, hand glowing with ether as he pummeled it against Brahms’ body. The breath expelled forcefully from Brahms’ mouth, Odin repeatedly striking him in that same spot again and again. But it didn’t weaken him anywhere as much as it should have, Brahms hurting but still able to stand.

His one hand was held captive by Odin, but the other was free. Brahms lashed out with his arm, shocked when an arc of blood sprayed into the air. Odin screamed in pain, releasing Brahms to step away from him. Brahms stared stupidly, Odin’s hands over his face, feeling for the damage. What the hands tried to cover were scratches, deep gouges in the skin that shouldn’t have been possible. They were slow to heal, Brahms turning to look at his hands, seeing his nails were no longer normal. They were claws, long and sharp, curving slightly.

What kind of monster had he become? What kind of monster fed off of a woman’s blood, and whose hands were not his own? Somewhere during his private musings, he tried to mutter out an apology. It was not one Odin was willing to accept, the God swinging out his arm, ether surging towards Brahms. In that moment Brahms would have welcome death, the man holding himself still for the oncoming onslaught. But then a feeble moan, a woman’s voice, came from the bed,

“HEL!” Brahms was instantly by her side, kneeling on the bed as he took her in his arms. The energy Odin had unleashed crashed into the wall, destroying part of it. Brahms did not care, weeping tears as he held Hel in his arms. She was moaning, but her eyes were not open. Her skin was pale and cold, the goddess still in grave danger from what had been done to her.

“I am so sorry…” Brahms whispered to her, weeping. He did not ask for her forgiveness, knowing he did not deserve it. Not after what he had done to her. There was no way he could make amends, no way to atone for his sins against her. But he could try to heal her, Brahms pressing a hand to her chest. He was ready to send energy into her, to pump the healing ether directly into her struggling heart.

Odin saw what he was going to do, and made no move to stop him. Both brothers knew that a second healing from a different God’s hand, might make all the difference in seeing that Hel did not die this day. But Odin didn’t like Brahms so near to Hel, keeping a wary watch on him, with both hands glowing with hostile energy. If Brahms went for Hel’s throat, he had no doubt Odin would throw that ether at him, all in order to keep Hel from being further tortured.

Brahms concentrated, pressing his hand against her. He waited for the tell tale glow, the energy to course over his skin. But nothing was happening, Brahms narrowing his eyes, and gritting his teeth.

“What’s happening?!” Odin demanded impatiently. “Why aren’t you healing her?!”

Brahms ignored him, trying again, trying to force energy out of his skin. He could feel a responding tingle, the power still inside him, but different. It was changed somehow, perhaps distorted by the very blood he had consumed. He had the power, but he could no longer use it to help others, might not be able to use it even to help himself.

“It’s not working!” Brahms admitted, abandoning all efforts to heal Hel. Instead he just cradled her to him, burying his face in her hair. “I…I can’t do anything for her! Not like this! Brother…help me…”

Odin approached the bed, his face grim. “I’ll help you all right.” The energy flared brighter in Odin’s hands, hinting at the strength of the ether he was about to use. This would not be the same as the ether Odin had used previously, this might very well be strong enough to kill Brahms. “I should have done this sooner.” Brahms was nodding, thinking himself worthless and undeserving of the life he still had. “I should have just ignored our father’s wishes from the start, and killed you the first chance I got! But no…”

The energy was released, Brahms screaming as it sent him flying against the wall. He felt it crack and splinter, caving in around him. “I let our relationship blind me to what needed to be done. Blind me enough to show mercy to you, to give you the same kind of death our father had.”

Brahms did not at first register what Odin was saying, simply laying there covered in dust from the wall. “I can see now the wasting away illness was too good for the likes of you.” Another slam of ether, the wall caving in enough to flood the room with sunlight. Brahms screamed, but it had nothing to do with the ether this time. The sun had touched him, and where it caressed, it BURNED. Even through his clothing, he could feel it, his skin hot and tingling, as though he had thrust his hand directly into a fire’s flames.

“I should have known you’d be trouble.” Continued Odin. “I should have known you wouldn’t be content to simply lay down and die. But I never expected you to be a danger to others!”

Brahms didn’t understand what Odin was saying, couldn’t make sense of any of it as he lay there burning. Pain was prevalent, and there was no escaping, Brahms not understanding why the sun was hurting him. He scrabbled at the floor, trying to pull himself forward. If he could just crawl out of the sun’s reach, maybe he wouldn’t hurt as much. But he was at war with himself, the instinct to survive fighting against his wish to die.

Odin stopped before him, actually kicking Brahms in the face. Brahms felt his lip split, tasting blood. The slightest of sounds escaped him, a growl so low Brahms wondered if Odin had heard it.

“I’m not just going to kill you.” Odin said conversationally. ‘I want you to understand exactly why you had to die.”

“Because….I’m a monster…” Brahms said tonelessly. ” A monster who almost killed Hel!”

“You’re an abomination Brahms! One that cannot be suffered to live!” Odin agreed. “I don’t know what I created in introducing the parasite into your blood, but it’s clear that whatever you are, it is a mistake.”

“Parasite?” Brahms was confused, and even more so when Odin let out a mean snicker of sound.

“You never thought to question the hows and whys of your sudden illness? The loss of your strength, the weakening of your systems?”

“It’s the same sickness father had…” Brahms began, only to be cut off by Odin’s laugh.

“Don’t you get it? Are you too stupid to realize what I’ve done?” Odin’s face was healing, but the blood still remained, staining his skin. “That very illness that took our father from us? Was introduced by my hand!”

“What?” Brahms went still, even as his skin screamed in pain.

“You know as well as I do that very little can kill a God. The most dangerous being the will and determination of another deity.” Odin smirked, gathering energy in the palm of his hands. “And there was no one as determined as I to see our father dead. It was practically child’s play to come up with father’s downfall, to engineer the parasite that would be his ruin.” Odin thrust his hands downwards, energy slamming into Brahms’ back. “That same parasite is IN you now, brother dear!”

“What?! When?” Brahms managed to grit out around the pain, Odin pouring destructive ether into him.

“Does it really matter?” Odin asked. “You’re about to die now. And it’ll be a much more satisfying death, to have you die directly by my hands, then this waiting game I have played with your body.” Odin laughed again. “To think I wasted weeks on you. But I’m impressed…you had more strength, more life to you than father ever had, to have lasted this long. Ah but no matter. You die now. Good-bye brother…”

“You’re no brother of mine!” Brahms snarled, grabbing Odin by the ankles. He jerked back, knocking Odin off balance. “No real brother could ever do what you did! To me, or to father!” He was still weak, but he was crawling forward, ready to use his new claws to tear open Odin. But the silver haired God screamed, throwing energy at Brahms, knocking him through the hole in the wall.

Brahms landed outside the castle, exposed completely to the sun. In an instant he caught on fire, even the skin beneath his clothing searing with flames. Brahms screamed, his clothing bursting with flames, disintegrating from the heat. Even his hair was on fire, flames signing down to his scalp. And still he tried to attack Odin, getting a back hand to the face for his efforts.

Brahms slammed into a tree, Odin stalking towards him determinedly. His face was an ugly scowl, eyes blazing with anger. It matched the ether in his hands, Odin flinging it at Brahms who barely dodged it. The tree exploded, destroyed by the attack, showering pieces down on both men. Silmeria could feel the immense pain Brahms was experiencing, the way his skin burnt to blackened husks. She felt like screaming, and yet Brahms held back his voice, concentrating on attacking Odin. His only wish in the moment was to take the God down, to kill him for all the wrongs he had committed. Only then would Brahms allow himself to lay down and die.

The fight was quick and brutal, Brahms constantly on the defensive. Even with his new speed, the man found it difficult to get in close to Odin. Not with the God constantly flinging his energy around. Explosions occurred all around them, the other Gods and einherjar appearing. They didn’t know what to make of the creature that battled with their King, Brahms unrecognizable in the moment due to the damage from the fires.

Eventually they would end up near Bifrost, Brahms trying to dive into the water Iving for some relief from the fires that ate at him. But Odin would not allow it, his ether attacks barreling into Brahms back. Brahms would be knocked around, dropping to his knees on top of the rainbow bridge. Odin stalked towards him, exuding confidence. He knew as well as Brahms did, that Odin would not be the loser this day.

“And now it ends.” Odin promised, smirking as he grew his most powerful ball of ether yet. Brahms knew there would be no coming back from this new attack, no more chances should it hit him. But he wasn’t at peace with that realization, Brahms wanting Odin to die.

Staggering upright, Brahms managed a twisted smile at his brother. “Not yet it doesn’t!”

Odin’s smirk turned into a scowl. “Die fool!” The attack was released, but Brahms was already tipping backwards, falling off the bridge. He’d miss the waters, hit instead the sky that stood between Asagrd and Midgard. Brahms would feel the coolness of clouds brushing his damaged skin, almost laughing at their wispy caress. He’d fall, plummet downwards, past Midgard, and into a third realm.

Naked, and still on fire, he’d land in the underworld. The land of demons, Nifleheim. It was dark here, the sun could not reach the underworld, no matter the time of day. Brahms hit the ground hard, a loud explosion of sound heralding his arrival. It sent many of the demons scattering. Brahms did not have the luxury of laying there stunned. Not when he knew Odin would soon come after him.

Silmeria watched as the still flaming vampire crawled on hands and knees. His pain was great, his palms split and bleeding, his feet torn open. He was losing the precious blood he had stolen from Hel, might even die before he could find a safe place to recover in. Brahms would crawl like this for what felt like hours, always pushing himself to move, knowing if he stopped Odin or the demons would prey upon him.

His eyes were struggling to keep open, Brahms’ vision blurring. He’d almost not realize where he was, not until he felt the blessed relief of water beneath his damaged hands. Gasping in relief, he threw himself face first into the cooling waters, allow them to put out the sun’s flames. But the waters couldn’t heal the damage done to him, not to his body, and not to his soul.

Brahms might have let himself drown, if not for his purpose. He refused to let himself die before he saw Odin dead, before he avenged his father, himself, even Hel. It took more effort than he would have liked, but Brahms broke the surface of the waters. It was only then that he realized it must be the waters Hvergelmir, the very spring that had spouted up at the roots of the great tree, Yggsdrasil.

He began to swim the length of the spring, traveling a few miles before he came upon Yggsdrasil’s base. It’s roots were twisting about, ends sinking into the soil of the land. They formed many dark crevasses, some large enough for a person to fit inside. Even one as massive in size as Brahms.

He heard screams, the demons were dying. Many more than a natural predator could account for. Brahms felt certain the sounds heralded Odin’s arrival, and knew he did not have time nor the ability to last against the God. He did the only thing he could do, Brahms choosing to hide under the roots of Yggsdrasil. He wasn’t pleased with this action, but knew there was no honor in going to face Odin now. In his current condition, Brahms would merely die, too weakened by his injuries and the sun to be an effective match against Odin.

Silmeria knew as much as Brahms had, that the man needed blood. Needed it to revitalize himself. But he had no way of knowing when and if he could force himself to feed on someone again. Not with the memories of Hel’s panic and pain so strong in his mind. And yet even as he was repulsed, a part of him stirred, anticipating his next feeding. It only heightened his disgust, Brahms crawling deeper into the darkness.

The memory would begin to fall apart. Darkness was everywhere, Brahms sleeping under the roots of Yggsdrasil. How many days and nights passed like this? Silmeria did not know. Brahms was simply too injured, too in pain to even want to rouse himself. It hurt to move, his skin charred. But beneath that black ruin, cracks appeared. His skin was trying to heal itself, trying to peal back the ruined husk and give birth to new flesh.

It hurt. Silmeria’s mind reeled at the agony Brahms was going through. Some days he wanted to die, to forget his vengeance, and let his existence end. Other days he was angry, knowing what was happening to him was all Odin’s fault. The anger made him want to live, but mostly he just wanted the pain to stop.

The pain wasn’t just of the body. His mind was tortured, Brahms remembering what he had done to Hel. Even worse, he remembered how good it had felt to feed off her. How exquisite the taste of her blood had been to him. He cursed himself, hating himself for what he did, and the fact that he wanted to drink from her again. Not even the scare he had had, the thought that he had killed Hel, was enough to let him forget the experience of her blood.

His body continued to try to heal itself, but it had reached it’s limits. He needed to feed, to gain more blood to replenish his strength. The idea was both distasteful and intriguing, Brahms feeling his fangs elongate in his mouth. At times he was drooling, just from the mere idea of feeding. On anyone and anything. And all the while he stayed buried under Yggsdrasil roots, unwilling to leave the safety of the crevasse.

Eternity seemed to stretch onwards. Neither Brahms nor Silmeria could tell how long he stayed there. Pain, hunger, and guilt were the only constants in his life. It was a terrible way to exist, and Silmeria thought she herself would go insane from just the memories of Brahms’ torture. How had he lived through it all? How had he managed to remain sane? A lesser man, God or not, would have given up and died, let Yggsdrasil be his grave. And yet Brahms held on, even if all he could do was lay there in the dark.

Then one day, sound intruded in on his awareness. It was different from the howls of the demons. It was near to him, close enough he thought he could reach out and catch that which made the sound. It was more than just sound once Brahms became aware that something was approaching him. He could smell things, smell the dirt on it’s skin, sense the depravity of it’s intentions.

It was a demon, but one of the little ones. A small scavenger creature that had no chance of taking down one of the larger demons. It was forced to prey on others of it’s kind, though more often than not it attacked the wounded, the dying. And it had found Brahms’ hiding spot. It’s eyes gleamed a sickly yellow, malevolent awareness shining in the darkness. It knew Brahms was there, and it sensed his pain.

Except for the sound of it’s claws scrabbling over the hardened roots of Yggsdrasil, the demon made no sound. Not even a betraying growl, for that would alert others to the prey it had found. But the demon was excited, staring at Brahms as it began to crawl into the crevasse. Brahms was a feast, one that would sate it’s hunger for days. The little demon grinned, maliciously excited as it inched towards Brahms.

The vampire just lay there, as though he would accept the end fate had brought him. The demon was cautious, moving so slow it was torture just waiting for it’s approach. But after minutes of enduring this waiting game, it was within reach of Brahms. Silmeria had thought Brahms would give in to death at last, but the desire to live, to survive was stronger than any suicidal impulse he may have had.

Body screaming in pain, muscles protesting the movement, Brahms lashed out with his arm. The demon shrieked in surprise, the vampire’s hand around it’s throat. It fought him though, scratching claws over skin that had not healed. Brahms let out a low roar, but it was fury not pain that he expressed. Silmeria sensed him sneering, thinking death by this pitiful demon would be a pathetic end indeed. And something he could not allow.

With a jerk of an arm whose nerves were on fire, Brahms brought the demon close enough to bite. His hand was crushing the demon’s throat, but it had screamed enough to rouse all of Nifleheim. Other demons would come, other scavengers. Brahms would feed on them all, his healing continuing until the burnt skin flaked off completely.

It wasn’t enough. The blood of the demons he fed off of, was nowhere near as strong or as pure as Hel’s had been. He needed a better food source, needed the life and vitality of a God. He wanted Odin’s blood, but knew in this condition he would not have it. Would not have any God’s blood, Brahms too weak to feed off anything but scavenger demons.

He continued to stay under the tree’s roots. Occasionally another foolish demon would appear, heedless of the warnings that had spread through out Nifleheim about the monster under the tree. Mainly it was hunger driving the scavengers to him, the little demons desperate for a meal. Desperate to the point they would risk their own lives on the hope they could kill the monster before he killed them.

Was he gaining any power from these feedings? Neither Brahms nor Silmeria thought so. The little demons were no great sustenance, their blood doing nothing more than prolonging Brahms’ life. He spent much of that time in a dream like state, often thinking about Hel, dreaming of her blood. Some days he’d remember those final minutes with Odin, the seconds where the God had revealed what he had done to Brahms.

He wasn’t any closer to understanding just what had been done to him. But he remembered that Odin had said a parasite had been introduced into Brahms body. One that would suck out his strength and vitality, have him waste away till he was nothing. The parasite was always hungry, always demanding more from it’s host body. And yet blood could stave off it’s destructive qualities. Do more than that, the blood actually restoring health to the afflicted. Brahms didn’t know why though, had no concept then of a symbiotic relationship between the parasite and it’s host.

The meaningless days continued, the demons broaching his hole lessening with every kill Brahms did. The time between meals was growing, Brahms starting to starve once more. Whenever the hunger grew to that point, that was when Brahms thought of Hel the most. Remembering how it had felt to tear into her throat, her warm blood gushing into his eager mouth. Even as shame assaulted him, he yearned to repeat the experience. Sometimes, remembering the Goddess’ struggles AROUSED him. And that left Brahms disgusted.

And yet he couldn’t stop lusting for her blood. For everything that rich, revitalizing liquid could give him. To the point he thought he smelled her sweet perfume, heard the rustle of her clothing, heard her voice calling out to him. And then with a jolt, he realized it was no delusion. Hel WAS here, somehow, miraculously in the underworld. He knew he shouldn’t go to her, but he found himself crawling, dragging himself forward on his hands and knees.

Dirt covered him, but could not hide his nakedness. Brahms did not care, did not even take note that his new skin had changed. It was a much darker shade than it had ever been, as though the sun had left a permanent reminder of it’s caress upon him. It would be a long time coming before Brahms took notice of all the changes that had been wrought in him, his hair not yet grown back after being burnt off.

He hardly looked like himself at all, Silmeria catching sight of his reflection in the waters of the spring Hvergelmir. He was naked and bald, and still recovering from his brush with the sun. And yet she could still shades of the man he would become, Brahms still looking impressive even with all the dirt covering him. He looked feral, hungry, like some wild creature from when Creation had first came into existence.

The underworld is a dimly lit land, a place where the sun cannot reach. It was still brighter than the hole he had spent an eternity in, Brahms blinking his eyes rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the difference in light. And then Hel’s voice came, the Goddess calling his name. It sounded as though she was looking for him, the Goddess’ voice a breathless appeal for the vampire to show himself.

Silmeria instantly suspected a trap. She wanted to warn Brahms, to order him not to go to Hel. But this wasn’t a dream she could control, Silmeria helpless to do anything but watch as Brahms made a potentially foolish choice. She felt the eagerness in him, the great lust, and the even greater hunger. He had no caution in him, was beyond being wary. He just wanted, and wanted now. Not even the small voice protesting in the back of his mind, could stop him from seeking Hel out.

She’s feel the shock of the cool water, Brahms having waded into the spring. He didn’t even try to disguise his movements, splashing about loudly as he began to swim to the other side. Hel called for him again, and Silmeria was on edge, regardless of the fact she knew Brahms would somehow survive the encounter. But Silmeria suspected it was a trap of Odin’s, the God using Hel as the means to lure Brahms to his death.

Brahms reached the other side of the spring, wading out of the water. The water cascaded down his body, taking much of the dirt with it. Silmeria felt heat rise up in her, the girl embarrassed to see Brahms’ body so clearly. She was relieved that he wasn’t often looking at his reflection, though she saw more than enough of it to reaffirm her opinion that he had a magnificent body.

As embarrassed as she was, as distracting a sight as Brahms’ reflection was, Silmeria never lost her uneasy feeling. She kept her own senses attuned, trying to extend her awareness past Brahms. He was too consumed with getting to Hel to even notice if others were watching. There were demons present, lurking in the shadows, trying to assess Brahms’ threat. He didn’t fear them, and neither did Silmeria, the girl more wary of Odin’s potential sneak attack.

Brahms stalked through the underworld, using his senses to track Hel. He was determined that nothing and no one would stop him, and when one of the demons approached him, Brahms did not hesitate. The demon’s head was torn off, it’s body as massive as Brahms, crumpling. Brahms did not even deign to drink it’s blood, not when a far tastier treat awaited him.

He wasn’t a revenant. Brahms was too conscious for that. But this was a single minded pursuit, Brahms focused only on Hel and that which he could take from her. His nostrils flared as he caught a stronger whiff of her scent. He had found her, she was close! He let out a growl, one that was as threatening a sound as Silmeria had ever heard. It made her shiver in response, Silmeria recognizing the predator within him.

Brahms sped forward, leaping over obstacles, ducking under tree branches. Hel’s voice grew louder as he drew near. And then he came upon a clearing, Hel stopping short with a gasp when she saw him. Brahms stopped too, but his intent didn’t change. For one instant he just looked her over, growling low in his throat. Hel was in a new dress, and there was no adornments around her neck. Silmeria could see the scarred side where Brahms had first fed from. Hel’s hair pulled back to leave her neck exposed.

“Brahms.” Breathed out Hel, but there was no fear in her voice. To Silmeria it only cemented her certainty that this Goddess was bait for Odin’s trap. Hel had to know Odin was there, that the God would protect her.

Brahms did not respond in words, merely continuing to growl. Hel had been staring at his face, but now her eyes took a dip. She noted his nudity, the smallest of smiles curving her lips upwards. When she lifted her gaze back towards his eyes, Brahms was already moving. Hel gasped again, actually attempting to take a step back from the vampire that was now in front of her.

And then she was in his rough embrace, his arms locking around her in possession. To Silmeria’s astonishment, Hel did not struggle. Instead her smile became happy, her eyes holding a near fanatical look to them. Her hands reached for his face, Brahms growling a warning. She did not heed it, laying on him hands that were trembling. Silmeria realized Hel was excited, and it left the former Valkyrie flabbergasted.

What happened next was even more astonishing, Hel tugging on Brahms. She needn’t have exerted the energy, Brahms was already moving to go for her throat. When his fangs bit into her skin, Hel let out the most ecstatic of moans, the Goddess seeming not to care that Brahms was HURTING her. Hel’s hands dropped to his shoulders, the Goddess digging her nails into his skin. That bit of pain only made Brahms more savage, the vampire pulling harder on her vein.

Hel did not hold herself still for the feeding, pushing herself against Brahms’ naked form. Moving in an inexpert way that still drew a reaction out of the vampire. He LIKED feeling Hel move, enjoyed the pressure of her soft body on his. More than that, he liked the way his cock reacted, stiffening within seconds, and fueled by Hel’s blood.

Hel continued to moan, to undulate in his embrace. It was driving him insane, Brahms starting to grind back. And as he moved, they fell to the clearing’s floor, landing in the dirt that held very little grass. Hel was effectively pinned beneath him, and not caring one bit. She ran her hands down his muscled back, moaning a yes as she let her legs fall apart to accommodate him.

Her skirts were in the way, Brahms thrusting his erection against the silk fabric of her dress. He hadn’t broken the feeding, Silmeria sensing he was nowhere near satisfied. In fact he was agitated, near restless and wanting. Silmeria remembered her own feeding, and how it had aroused her. She had fought against those feelings, but Brahms didn’t. It was more like he couldn’t, being controlled by all the desires coursing through him. The desire for Hel’s blood and her body, Brahms wanting to possess every inch of the Goddess as his.

Silmeria senses Hel wanted that possession almost as much as Brahms, the Goddess taking his hands to guide them on her body. His claws snagged on the silk, tearing it open. She seemed to moan even more as his hands briefly touched upon her breasts. But there was little room for foreplay, Brahms too lost to that which was driving him. As ruthlessly as he had taken her neck, he would take her body, his claws tearing apart her clothing.

For one instant Hel would lose her ecstasy, screaming with the pain of a virgin’s body newly tried. Her eyes seemed to clear of their haze, but only for a moment, Hel looking panicked as Brahms drove his length into her. Her hands tried pushing him away, but Brahms, growling in warning, took hold of her wrists. He’d press them back down, holding Hel down as he continued to move.

It was only a moment that Hel was defiant. And then she settled down, perhaps giving herself over to the feelings Brahms’ cock was stroking through her. She resumed moaning, moving with him, lifting her legs up to lock around him. She seemed to be trying to guide Brahms movements, trying to use her legs to control the pace of his thrusting.

Silmeria felt how good Brahms was feeling. It went beyond the singular sensations of feeding and sex, to the powerful force of both combined. She felt the tension in him easing, the blood working it’s magic as Brahms tried to keep up his frantic pace. He was no longer feeding so hard at Hel’s neck, but he was moving his hips with a frenetic energy. Building up feelings in his lower half, feeling the first pleasure he had felt in what seemed like decades.

Silmeria didn’t know what to make of the feelings. It was a strange experience, Silmeria learning just how good sex felt for a man. As strange as it was, she could not deny how arousing it felt. A part of her even wondered how much better sex would feel if the act actually had meaning behind it, if the person who was one’s partner actually mattered. She knew Hel did not matter to Brahms, even now he cared nothing for her beyond her blood and the pleasure she could give him. He was using her, using Hel in the worst way imaginable.

But Hel didn’t mind, moaning and crying out. Letting out little ooohs of satisfaction, all her pain forgotten. When Brahms lifted his head from her throat, his lips and chin were stained with her blood. He looked at her, but did not truly SEE Hel. He just saw the vessel on which all his desires could be satisfied. He began to grunt, to groan, his body doing a mighty heave into her. Hel all but squealed, arching up off the ground as best she could.

Silmeria might have screamed then too. It was a scream of shock, Brahms’ pleasure rippling through HER. She experienced his orgasm, felt the surge of relief go through him as he flooded Hel’s insides with his seed. A great shudder shook him, Brahms wanting nothing more than to collapse on top of Hel. But at the same time he felt energized, as though he could move mountains with his bare hands.

The combination of sex and feeding, it’s aftermath was a tiring experience. But to rest was dangerous, especially out in the open. Brahms started to lift himself up off Hel’s body, the urge to crawl back into the crevasse under Yggsdrasil strong within him. All in order to hide away, wait out the healing the blood would give him. It was already working, Brahms feeling a scratchy sensation on his scalp. His hair was trying to grow back, forming tiny, dark brown spikes.

He didn’t get far, Hel keeping her legs locked in place around him. At some point Brahms had let go of her wrists, distracted by the odd sensation of his hair growing back at a rapid pace. Hel reached for him with her freed hands, grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him back down on her. He let out a confused growl, then froze. He had gotten a good look at the woman beneath him, the Goddess that was clinging to him.

Any pleasure Brahms had been feeling instantly went away, the vampire staring in horror at Hel. She was shining, literally glowing with happiness. Her skin was far too pale for his liking, and her eyes held a glassy sheen to them. She looked at Brahms and yet was not all there, as though something had broken in her mind. That thought made Brahms uneasy, Silmeria realizing he blamed himself for any damage that may have been done to Hel’s mind.

He had to get away from her. He knew that. Not only get away, but STAY away from the goddess. But was such a thing possible now? Brahms had tasted Hel’s blood, not once but twice. He was sure he was addicted to her taste, and Brahms was certain he would always seek her out if the opportunity presented itself. Especially with her here in Nifleheim.

His horror mounting, he fought with the Goddess. Fought against her clinging embrace. Even weakened by blood loss, Hel gamely held on, making it more of an effort than Brahms would have liked to escape. She’d actually scream when he got free, a despairing look on her face as she tried to scramble up off the ground to come after him. But Hel was in pain, actually wincing from the rough possession he had done of her body. That wince only made Brahms feel worse, and was the last sight he had of Hel, before he took off out of the clearing. Hel knew she could not keep up with him, and her screams rang out. Angry, despairing, wretched. They seemed to follow Brahms all the way back to Yggsdrasil, and even once he buried himself into his crevasse, he heard Hel’s voice.