Sacrifice 03

She found herself all alone in the opulent bedroom, and that is when the tears began. Thick, clear drops trailed down her cheeks, and she let out shuddery sighs, trying to keep her sobbing to a minimum. She felt weak, helpless, as the events of the last few days finally caught up with her, overwhelming her senses.

I nearly died. She realized with a start, sniffling loudly. As far as my mother knows, I am dead. That made her cry harder, Alana imagining the woman’s grief over her daughter’s unknown fate. With a loud sob, she slumped down to her knees, feeling the robe spread out on the floor. She grabbed at it’s hemline, crushing the cotton against her face, letting her tears soak into the material.

Alana hadn’t cried when she had learned her fate was to be a sacrifice, had barely reacted to the news. She had been calm, almost detached from reality, going through the motions as the priestesses prepared her for the ritual. Now those pent up emotions sprang forth, the tears needing an outlet. She didn’t like this helpless crying, not used to tears, but the situation she found herself in was too strange, too alien and unsettling.

Am I really in Valhalla…? She wondered, sniffling. She shuddered, not feeling at all honored to be here, not when her greatest desire was to go home. The lavish room with it’s wealth of gold in the walls, and fine things held no joy for her, no interest or distraction from her tears. She felt frightened, scared of the man—the God who had brought her here, not understanding his reasons

He must be mad. She thought, then sighed, shaking her head no. He didn’t look insane, his eyes were clear, shining with intelligence, with coherence. But his words were one step away from that of a raving madman, insisting she was someone else, calling her by that other name, telling her they had a past together. She had never seen him before today, she would remember a man like him. A man with waist length hair of emerald, with tiny, intricately designed beads decorated the shorter strands of his hair.

Even if he didn’t have that magnificent color for his hair, she’d remember him for his eyes alone. They were filled with such sorrow when he looked at her, such pain. She could almost drown in his eyes, wanting to know what caused them to shine with so much hurt. She noticed other things about him, the smoothness of his face, bearing no lines, and how handsome he was.

She frowned, shaking her head, wondering how she could find him attractive when he had kidnapped her. Taken her away from the only home she had ever known, from her family. Pain stabbed through her heart, and just when she thought she had no more tears to cry, a loud wail of grief came forth. The robe against her face muffled some of the sound, Alana shaking, body racked with trembles as she sat on the carpeted floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she cried, there was no clocks here in this room, but she wondered if an hour had gone by. Hiccuping slightly, she lowered her hands, gazing upon the room with new eyes. Details drifted into her awareness, the girl noting the sparseness of furniture, leaving wide empty spaces across the floor. A large bed was the highlight of the room, shoved against the far wall, it’s sheets a midnight blue. An overstuffed arm chair was place in a corner near the window, overlooking a garden scene.

To the right of her was a desk, papers piled messily across it’s surface. A closet lay to the left, door slightly open, offering a glimpse inside. She caught the sight of arrowheads laying on a small round table, looking small and unobtrusive without their wooden shafts. She decided it was a man’s room, since there was a decidedly lack of feminine touches to be found. Unease ate away at her, Alana wondering if it was her abductor’s bedroom she found herself in.

With a shake of her head, she was rising to stand, fingers clutching at the robe. She moved, walking forward though she had no destination in mind. Her pacing brought her closer to the desk, and she peered curiously at the top most sheets of paper. But the writing was unfamiliar, strange runes she had no hope of guessing the meaning too.

She was moving again, heading towards the window, her hand reaching out to touch the chair. It was soft leather, warmed by the sun shining into the room, nothing at all like the hard leather they made back in Coriander. Hand still placed on the leather, she approached the window, and stifled back a gasp. The garden was magnificent up close, with all the colors of the rainbow blooming among the green. Flowers existed that couldn’t possibly be real, and she recognized some as being the type that wouldn’t bloom until next season.

Even more extraordinary was the creatures that roamed the garden, exotic looking cats, and colorful butterflies. One flew up to the window, and she nearly shrieked, blue eyes wide with shock. For instead of the fat fuzzy body of a butterfly, she saw a person, a tiny miniature woman dressed in pinks, to match her yellow and pink wings. The woman, a fairy, smiled and waved at Alana. Dimly she waved back, and then the fairy was off, flitting back to the flowers, tending to them with magic.

Other fairies flew about, carrying tiny pitchers of water, and hoes to tend to the soil. She felt laughter bubble up in her at the sight of them, her eyes wide with wonder. She barely noticed anything else about the garden, failed to see the white cobblestone path that led towards a covered well, or the white bench that sat near it. She was too enamored by the fair folk, watching the men and women as they flew.

A knock came at the door, startling her, Alana reluctantly turning away from the window. She peered with some suspicion at the door, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t her room, wasn’t her home, leaving her tongue tied towards how to respond. The knock came again, louder this time, and a kindly female voiced called out.

“May I enter?”

Alana nodded her head, then blushed, realizing the visitor could not see her. She cleared her throat and said, “Yes…Yes enter please!” Slowly the door opened, it’s well oiled hinges causing the absence of sound in it’s movement. A woman clad in green strode into the room, her arms stuffed to overflowing with dresses. Alana hurried forward, eager to help ease her of her burden. The woman with her chestnut colored hair smiled, grateful for the assistance.

“Thank you my dear…” She nodded at the bed. “Let’s just put these down, shall we?” The clothing was laid out across the mattress, Alana staring in awe at the myriad of colors, seeing some skirts woven out of glitter, and the shine of jewels set into the bodice of one of the more magnificent gowns. Her sense of touch was overwhelmed, feeling satin and velvet for the first time in her life, along with soft silks and taffeta, and even the softest cotton she had ever felt.

“Are…are these for me?” She asked, not daring to believe.

The woman looked at her, cocking her head to the side. “You are the Lady Alicia are you not?”

She started to say no, then remembered that he had called her by that name several times. “I guess I am…”

“Then yes my dear…” The woman smiled. “These are for you.” She clucked her tongue, looking at Alana’s bedraggled state. “Let’s hurry and get you dry.”

“But…” Alana began, finding the robe was tugged off her shoulders. Her white dress had had time to dry, but still damp patches clung to her skin, slow to peal free of her body. “But I can’t wear these!”

“Why ever not?” The woman looked confused.

“They’re too fine…too expensive…” Alana explained. “Really…a dress like yours would suit me much better.” She gasped, realizing her words had the potential to embarrass the woman, and hastily began apologizing.

The lady laughed, and shook her head. “Really as guest of Lord Rufus, you must dress accordingly. Now off you go…” The dress was pulled up over her head, leaving Alana to stand there shivering in her panties. “I think we should go with the blue…it matches your eyes…” The woman pulled a dress off the bed, holding the pale color up to her skin. Alana was relieved to see it was one of the less extravagant gowns, finding her head nodding in agreement.

“Thank you.” She said, as the woman helped her into the gown, working the pearl fastenings close. “Miss…?”

“It’s Mrs actually.” The woman said, still wearing her smile. “Call me Esme though.”

“Esme…” A worrisome thought worked it’s way into her mind, and she nervously asked. “Are you a Goddess Esme?” She was surprised to hear laughter, Esme nearly in tears, her amusement coming fast and hard.

“Good heavens no!!” Esme shook her head. “I’m a mortal…I believe they still call us…einherjar down on Midgard?”

Her eyes widened, and she fought to keep from backing away. “You mean you’re dead?!”

“Yes…but do not be frightened…I may be dead, but I am not undead.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Alana, confused.

Esme laughed. “The undead are fiends, horrible soulless monsters. We einherjar are the souls of dead warriors chosen by the Valkyrie to become servants of the Gods.”

“Servants?”

“Mainly we sit around and fight all day, preparing for wars. It can get rather boring, so some of us volunteer for positions in the homes of the Gods.” explained Esme. “It’s a nice change from the constant battles.”

“Oh…” She had known the tales, heard the stories, and still she found herself thinking it wasn’t the best kind of afterlife to have.

“Let’s have a look at you.” Esme said, coming around to her front. She turned a critical eye on Alana, nodding her head, murmuring approval. “Well, you are indeed a sight for sore eyes. I bet he’ll be pleased.”

“I don’t want him to be pleased!” Her outburst startled the einherjar, she could see the shock in her brown eyes. She gestured angrily with her arms, seeing the lace of her sleeves fall back to reveal her hands. “I’m not trying to impress him, I just want to go home!”

Esme mouth had dropped open, the woman gaping at her. Emotions boiled to the surface of Alana, and for one horrifying second she feared she’d burst into tears. “Please…” She said urgently. “Help me…”

“I…I can’t.” Esme shook her head no, eyes looking sad. “Einherjar can’t travel to Midgard…not without the aid of the Gods.”

“Then I’m stuck here?” Her expression was crestfallen, she stared at Esme with sad eyes.

“It’s not so bad. Lord Rufus is a kind God…a lot nicer than the others.”

“He’s a kidnapper!” Alana flared angrily.

“I’m sure he means well…” But there was doubt in Esme’s voice. “He just…just gets lonely.”

“That’s no excuse.” She told the einherjar.

“I know.” Esme sighed. “But do try to get along with him. It’s a lot better than fighting, don’t you think?”

Alana opened her mouth to reply, but another knock sounded at the door. “May I come in?” Alana’s eyes widened, a hint of excited fear coursing through her veins. It was HIM!!

“Tch, Lord Rufus! You know better than to ask!” called out Esme. “It’s your bedroom!” Alana jerked her attention away from the door, turning to stare in horror at the einherjar. This was Rufus’ bedroom?!

“Yes…but I wanted to make sure Alicia was dressed first…” Rufus said, stepping into the room. He immediately looked at Alana, a smile lighting up his face.

“Isn’t she lovely?” asked a beaming Esme as though she had something to do with Alana’s good looks.

“Yes…” Came the soft agreement, Rufus unable to stop staring at Alana. “She is.”

“Well…if that is all you be needing of me, I guess I’ll be going now.” She started to move, and Alana cried out, grabbing her by the arm.

“Don’t go!” Her voice was high pitched, and her stare was urgent as her blue eyes pleaded with the woman to remain where she was. Her silent plea, Don’t leave me alone with him! seemed to fill the room, and both God and soul frowned.

“Now now…” Esme patted Alana’s hand, trying to comfort her. “You have nothing to fear. Lord Rufus is a gentleman.” She pried Alana’s fingers off her arm, slipping free before the girl could grab hold of her again. She hurried across the room, a nod at Rufus as she passed him by. He didn’t turn to track her progress, staring at Alana with a strange expression on his face.

The door closed with a soft thump, Alana forcing herself not to flinch back from the sound. She nervously looked at Rufus, fingers playing with the front of her skirt. “Thank you for the clothes.” She said stiffly, forcing her expression to go blank.

“It was my pleasure.” Rufus said, remaining standing in one spot. His eyes bore into hers, an intense gaze full of longing and desire. It made her even more nervous, and tongue tied, Alana not knowing what to say to him. What did you say to a God, never mind the God who had for all intents and purposes kidnapped you?!

“I hope you find the room to your liking.” Rufus said, finding words to fill in the gap her silence had made.

“It’s fine…” A horrible thought occurred to her, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “You’re not planning to sleep in here with me, are you?!” He looked surprised, and then he smirked, an honest to God smirk was on his face!

But whatever had caused him to wear that expression, whatever thought had entered into his mind, Rufus shoved it back down, shaking his head no. “No…I’ll find other lodgings for the night.”

“But it’s your room.” She pointed out. “I should be the one to leave…in fact…let me go home and you won’t have to worry about finding a spare bedroom to stick me in.”

“It’s no problem.” He was quick to assure her. “And I’m not taking you back home.”

“But why?” She demanded. “What could you possible want from me?

Again that funny expression, the man fighting to keep control of his tongue. His lips quirked, curving into a smile, but then it faded away, “I already told you…I want you to remember…”

“And I already told you…” She said, anger at his refusal making her words harsher. “There is nothing to remember! There is no us, and I am not Alicia!”

“You’ll see…” He all but whispered the words, nodding his head. “I will make you remember…”

“And then what?!”

“And then?” He look surprised, as though he hadn’t thought that far. “And then we’ll…we will see what the future holds.”

“You’re not ever going to let me go, are you?” She asked sadly. “I’ll never see my family, my friends or Coriander again!”

“Perhaps…” He agreed. “But when you remember, you may find yourself wanting different things for yourself. Having different…desires.”

“Like what?” She eyed him with some suspicion, not liking the way he stressed the word desires.

Rufus licked his lips, a nervous gesture as he suddenly moved forward. She gasped and backed up, feeling her body bump into the base board of the bed. “Like me…” He said, hope shining in his eyes.

Alana couldn’t help herself, she started laughing. His expression turned confused, and still she laughed. “Why would I want you?!” And then she gasped, clamping her hands over her mouth. She couldn’t believe her audacity, horror stricken to have laughed in his face. “I…forgive me!” Was it blasphemy to talk like this to a God? Even one who was her captor? She did not know, and she peered over her hands at him, trying to judge his reaction.

“Alicia…” Again that name, and if she wasn’t so horrified, she’d be annoyed at his insistence at calling her that. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He was touching her then, gently prying her hands from her mouth. She let him, arms growing limp as she stared at him, relieved that the God didn’t appear to be angry with her.

“Do you ever dream Alicia?” He asked, hands still holding onto hers, lacing his fingers with hers.

“I…of course. Everybody dreams.” She answered, keenly aware of how big his hands were compared to her. Everything about him was large, he dwarfed her petite body, forcing her to crane back her neck to look him in the eyes.

“But I’m only interested in your dreams.” Rufus said, giving a gentle squeeze of her hands.

“Dreams are a private thing.” She said stiffly, wishing he would let go of her.

“Indulge me.” It was almost an order, and she frowned to hear it. “Do you ever dream the same one more than once?”

“I…” Hesitantly she nodded.

“What do you dream?” He whispered. “Tell me…”

“I dream of a woman…a battle maiden. With long blonde hair, that falls down to her knees in a straight line. She’s dressed strangely, I’ve never seen clothing like that, hardly fitting for battle. She fights against someone or something…there’s companions with her, but I can’t see them. I can only make out their weapons…bows and arrows, a long sword…” She shuddered then, remembering something else. “Bloody claws.”

“Does the maiden have a name?” He said this like he already knew her answer, and at her nod, he was speaking. Together in one voice, both of them speaking out loud, “Valkyrie.”

Alana startled, jerking her hands out of his grip. “How can you know that?!”

“I know because it’s not a dream Alicia…” He smiled down at her. “It really happened.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, not believing him. “It’s just a dream.” She scoffed. “Nothing more…certainly not memories…”

“Freya says there’s a seal on your memories.” Rufus said, in reply to her words. He raised his hand, fingers gently touching the center of her forehead. He tenderly brushed back her bangs, and she fought back a shiver, staying stone still as he touched her. “She seems to think it’s a strong one, maybe unbreakable. But I don’t believe it…Not if you’re having dreams of that time. You WANT to remember Alicia…try to. Fight your way back to me, fight tooth and nail if you have to, but remember!”

“Alana…my name is Alana…” She corrected him, feeling his hand slide down the side of her face to cup her cheek. His thumb stretched out, caressing her lower lip. She watched him, seeing him leaning in closer to her, a dreamy look in his eyes. “What…what are you doing?”

“I’m going to kiss you.” He announced, eyes looking surprised. He started to bend his face towards her, hand tilted her head back, forcing her to go up on tip toe. She felt a wave of panic, not wanting to feel his lips on hers. But she didn’t know how to stop him.

“Rufus…” Her breath caressed his face, his mouth a mere inch from hers. “I…I remember something else from my dreams…”

“Hmmm?” Closer yet, the gap quickly closing between them.

“The battle maiden has a ring…she kisses it once…” She saw his eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat.

“A ring?” He suddenly straightened, pulling back from her. Alana felt relief as the distance between them widened. “Do you mean…this ring?” He held up his right hand, and she saw a large ring on his finger, silver with a dark red jewel set in the center. She gasped to see it, staring at him in surprise. What was he doing with the ring from her dreams?!