Odin 07

He had been played for a fool. Lezard had known and accepted it as thus, the man keenly aware of just what he had passed up on. The paradise that he had barred himself from ever setting true foot inside of. His immortal soul traded, damned for all of eternity, and still Lezard was convinced that of the two deals, a life with the Valkyrie for his bride was of the better. What use did Lezard have of a paradise without her? What reason was there to spend an entire eternity alone, when the man could instead have a brief taste of domestic bliss? With a Goddess no less, Lenneth no ordinary female, but that of a Valkyrie maiden. Once a minor deity in her own right, and even made mortal she still reigned magnificent.

The Gods help him, but even at her most dismayed and upset she was a sight. An absolute vision with her pale, luminous skin, and with her bright and expressive blue eyes that had tried and failed at keeping her secrets from him. That beautiful face, those soft sensual lips, and the remembered feel of that woman trembling beneath him. What he wouldn’t give to feel that again, what hadn’t already been so thoroughly bartered away, Lezard gazing upon a woman who was so supremely lovely as to make his heart hurt.

Were all Valkyries like that? No, of course not. His heart hadn’t throbbed to aching life, his soul itself had been left untouched by the vision of divine grace and lethal beauty that had been Odin’s Valkyries in the midst of a battle. He had made note of them but with a cool detachment, Lezard’s mind more curious than anything, analytical of any and all weaknesses that he could have then reported back to his queen. To his patron Goddess, Hel of Nifleheim. Never had Lezard felt more ashamed, never had he hated that Goddess more than he now did, Lezard dismayed. Braced for and still flinching under the Valkyrie’s blatant horror.

There was no words that could be said, no excuses that could be made. No amount of begging that could undo the hard facts of his life. Lezard was what he was, not just damned for his choices, but for his faith, the man owing allegiance to the Goddess who had seen to blessing him with so much. With the life that he had grown accustom to, the wealth and the power, the home and the people under his rule. Everything that Lezard had ever had, and everything that Queen Hel could then choose to take.

Even the Valkyrie was not immune to this, Lezard keenly aware of just how much Hel had poisoned things between them. Lenneth looked at him as though he was a MONSTER, as though she saw not the man in front of her, and certainly not the man who had risked everything on just the chance of her. No longer did those beautiful blue eyes express the internal conflict that had waged on inside her, Lenneth’s love, the chance of it, surely lost to her horror and her disgust. Her revulsion for what—who he was, and just where she now was.

Lezard fought to maintain his own expression, actually struggled to portray an outwards calm that he in no way felt. The man knew that he had failed miserably, all of his own upset and apathetic feelings alive in the language of his own body. His shoulders positively sagged with the weight of them, something very much like shame alight in his eyes. Lezard stared at Lenneth with such a bleak, unblinking expression, watching as the woman tried and failed to pull herself together.

He nodded at the words that she had then said, at the unspoken determination of a woman, a Valkyrie, who was braced to do her duty. Lezard was nothing more than that to Lenneth. No. He was worse than that, the woman having admitted to him that she thought and viewed him as her PUNISHMENT. It took all of his faltering heart’s inner strength to not make a betraying motion, to neither flinch in place nor make fists with his hands. But it hurt all the same, Lezard stung, not just by her rejection, but by her King’s deception. By the last laugh that Odin was having at Lezard’s expense. His cheeks were burning with the heat of that humiliation, and with the anger now growing inside him, Lezard knowing that this was the one secret that would follow him to his grave and there after.

Lenneth would never be privy to the real truth of just how Lezard had come to acquire her. It was a truth that not even Queen Hel suspected, the underworld’s goddess sure to make him pay a thousandfold over for his deceit and his betrayals. That shiver of unease at the reckoning that he would someday face, the eternal torments that Hel would delight in inflicting on Lezard, that knowledge nearly cramped in his stomach, the man quickly turning away from his intended bride to be.

It didn’t stop her from wondering, from Lenneth asking the question of just how Lezard and Odin had come to such an agreement. Unwilling to outright spin a lie to her, but equally as unable to admit the truth to ANYONE, Lezard settled instead for simply ignoring what Lenneth had just said.

“The wedding will be in a few day’s time.” That disaffected voice and the inability to look at her, couldn’t protect his heart from his bride, Lezard recognizing that he was so thoroughly mired in a trap that had been of his own choosing. He was overcome with desire, overwhelmed with infatuation. And now that Lezard had had an actual taste of her, the man was sure that he was half way in love. More and more pitfalls appeared before him, Lezard trying to carefully side step them all, but he couldn’t avoid the love looming, the reality of the Valkyrie such that the man was half mad with the wanting of her.

Such a ruinous desire, Lezard having not only destroyed himself, but HER, Lenneth stripped of everything. From her divinity to life as she had known it, and only now was it truly hitting Lezard just how much he had taken from her. The same feelings that made his heart swell with a kind of desperate love and longing were nothing more than a poison to the Valkyrie. She was suffocating under them, suffocating under him, and there was a part of him that was STILL too selfish, to wish he had done otherwise.

That greedy longing, that seductive whisper inside of his head, that and his unbridled desire, all the tools needed for Odin to have played him. Or rather THEM, Lenneth little more than a means to an end, the pretty bait in which to dangle before the right—wrong man. Lezard had reached for it, reached for HER, and had walked right into Odin’s trap.

The feeling that was birthing to life inside of him wasn’t yet strong enough to be named regret. Maybe it never would be. Lezard was after all greedy, absolutely selfish when it came to his own needs. That Lenneth was proving to be that vital something that Lezard had gone too long without was a fact that he couldn’t, wouldn’t deny. Not even to the doubts and uncertainties that now tried to plague him, Lezard haunted by Lenneth, by the look in her eyes. That grief stricken horror, the steely eyed resignation, and the burgeoning love that the woman had to battle near constant against, Lenneth was both proud and brave in her defiance. In her commitment to her duty, that punishment that she thought was a penance for her failures.

It was a sick twist of fate, that win or lose, Lenneth would still have been given away. Her fate had long been decided on, her king needing just an excuse to rid himself of her. That Odin had maximized the effect of just how devastating a decree that his order would be, just cemented in Lezard’s mind that the God was as deceitful and manipulative as he had already known Hel to be.

~Damn him!~ There was real venom to that thought, Lezard glad that Lenneth was situated behind him so as not to be able to see the scowl that had twisted his very expression. He was so mad that Lezard thought that he might spit, the unholy magic inside him bristling with the need to lash out at a certain God. For this is not what they had agreed upon, not at all what Lezard had imagined when he had bartered away everything in exchange for having Lenneth as his intended bride to be. He hadn’t expect the Valkyrie to come to him HAPPY about her fate, but neither had Lezard thought the woman would be so thoroughly poisoned against him.

Believing him to be nothing more than her punishment, Lenneth’s prejudices had been set against Lezard long before she had learned of just who and what he worshiped. This was nothing like what Odin had promised, the woman completely unprepared for the reality of her situation. Instead the burden of explanations had fallen into Lezard’s hands, the man completely caught off guard, floundering about in an attempt to somehow find a way to make the situation and it’s circumstances palpable to his bride.

He feared that there was nothing, NOTHING, that could be done. No words that could be a strong enough balm for the hurt that Odin had caused. The damage to the foundation of everything that Lezard had hoped to build upon with Lenneth. That seething feeling, that sheer lack of hope, both pushed and pulled at him in a play for dominance over his thoughts. He again damned Odin for his tricks, and if Lezard was at anywhere honest, the man damned himself too.

His lust his undoing, Lezard knew and understood that his feelings were a weakness. That Lenneth was a weakness. One any and all could exploit, even the Valkyrie herself. Certainly her king had, Lezard wondering now at just how much more deeply he had been played. Had Odin been counting on Lezard to fall? Is THAT why he had allowed the sorcerer so close, Lezard able to get an eye full of a whole squadron of Valkyries? Dozens upon dozens of the lethal beauties, the fierce battle maidens dressed in full armored regalia, with swords, spears and even a cross bow at the ready.

Divine in nature, deadly in grace, the Valkyries hadn’t fought a war so much as made sport of the undead around them. With blood spraying and limbs flying, with heads severed and bodies squelching under foot, that group of Goddesses were a quick and efficient lot. With wave upon wave of undead approaching, with ghouls, zombies, vampires and even a revenant or two, with creatures of all manner, and nightmares that crept from the deepest part of the dark, this legion of monsters had barreled head on to their doom.

It had been awe inspiring, and truth be known it had been a little frightening. Lezard had looked at the Valkyries, and had seen the sheer and utter futility of Hel’s plans. Of the war that the underworld’s Queen had hoped to wage. Lezard had not only seen defeat for Hel and her minions, he had anticipated a great many deaths. He might have even seen that of his own, Lezard having looked up at the group of Goddesses at their most ferocious, and coming away shaken by one fact. That no mortal human, be he man or she woman, be they armed with magic or armed with sharp steel, would ever be able to make a true difference. Not even Hel’s blessing could change that fact, the underworld’s Goddess simply too weak to empower the humans needed to overrun the heavens.

Rooted in place, it was on the Plains of Idavoll, that Lezard Valeth had the first of his many epiphanies. He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to be damned. Both were unenviable fates, the cycle of life and death such that a human had to both live and eventually die. It was the second that was more negotiable, factors at play here that decided who went where and by how. There was a complex balance between the heavens and the underworld, Nifleheim a place for all of Odin’s undesirables. Such as the warriors who did NOT die in battle. Or the humans who died of old age or of sickness. It hardly seemed fair that so many were damned on so daily a basis, and yet it was fact that the underworld was overcrowded with the condemned. The damned and those too beneath the heavens’ consideration.

Lezard had known he was both, had known the blessing of his Goddess had tainted just about all chance at heaven’s paradise. And yet he had dared to dream otherwise, had dared to hope. It was on the Plains of Idavoll that an idea began to take root. A mad bit of scheming that had Lezard grasping at the opportunity that his Goddess herself had inadvertently sanctioned. With the very subterfuge that she had bid him to play out, Lezard had decided to use what he knew of Hel’s desire, and of her plans, to instead betray her.

Privy to more secrets than any other human in Hel’s kingdom, Lezard felt certain that HE was the key towards bringing an end to Nifleheim’s insane ambition. He was the most trusted of her subjects, the most gifted and beloved, Lezard’s magic talented beyond measure. It was that magic that came into play on the Plains of Idavoll, the sorcerer using all manner of spells to aid and assist the Valkyries in their fight. Those warrior maidens hadn’t needed his help in theory, but the spells that Lezard had slung about did help to wittle down a large number of the undead king’s near endless troops.

It was then that he had seen her, it was there amidst the dwindling number of able bodied undead that Lezard had spied a glimpse of the Valkyrie Lenneth. That fleeting glimpse from across a vast distance, shouldn’t have had such a profound effect on him. Lenneth should have been just another woman, just another Goddess, a figure whose deadly dance across the crowded plains should have struck a fear and desperation into all who had beheld her lethal form.

Lezard hadn’t felt fear, though a desperation had been upon him. A rapturous desire, Lezard driven by need, the man wanting to see the face of that Valkyrie. He hadn’t been able to get a good enough look, the Goddess moving too fast, twirling away from one danger to another, her sword effortlessly slicing through air as she had thrust and stabbed it into the bodies of nightmares. Her cobalt blue armor had made a striking offset against the braided platinum of her long hair, and long, lithe legs flashed tantalizing glimpses of her thighs whenever the woman kicked high enough for her skirt’s slit to fall back and expose her.

Lezard had found that he had not only stopped breathing, but that his eyes hadn’t been able to look away. He had been riveted in place, had been in the absolute thrall of the Goddess, his heart an echoing drum beat that had left him deafened to the roar of the war around him. He hadn’t been able to see, to hear, to FEEL, all of Lezard’s acute awareness spiraling down to that vision in cobalt blue. To the hint of striking ice that was her eyes, to that wild play of that braided hair of platinum, each facet of her that had been revealed to him had then carved a brand into his very soul.

Such a ruthless embodiment of sensuality, such a sublime promise of the unearthly, pain and pleasured combined to deliver a woman that was the perfect instrument with which to deal in both. He had been in awe of her, Lezard so thoroughly overcome, the thoughts slipping from his head as easily as the breath had from his lungs. He hadn’t been able to see, to think of anything else, Lezard attempting to creep closer to the woman, the Goddess who had so thoroughly took a hold of him. That not one, but two armies stood between the man and the Valkyrie hadn’t seemed to much matter, Lezard bristling with his determination and the unbridled strength of the very magic inside him.

Such unholy magic had been a danger, and not just to the combatants that might stand between Lezard and HIS Goddess. In that moment, Lezard had been a danger to himself, all his efforts to suppress the true level of strength inside of him forgotten, all that amassed power surging stronger. Hel’s power had never burned hotter, Lezard lit up like a beacon and betrayed by his own magic. Marked by it, marked by her, his ties to Nifleheim should have guaranteed his end.

Even as Lezard had realized too late what he had just done, the man had struggled to suppress the worst of it. Unholy energy had continued to gather in his glove hands, his skin having crackled with the heated sensation of a spell, his magic wanting, needing an outlet. The struggle to deny it that had left Lezard sweating, thick beads of perspiration dripping down the sides of his face. His fingers had actually curled under the onslaught of magic, the energy calling, wanting to damn him and those around him to it’s death and devastation.

It was the platinum haired Valkyrie, the sight of her, and the thought of her broken body, that had kept the worst of his magic at bay, For her, Lezard had fought the use of his own magic, the man having struggled with the effort that it took for any semblance of control. The gathered magic hadn’t wanted to be denied, that malevolent energy not wanting to stay hidden. It, that thing inside him, had wanted to be known, had wanted to revel in the shock, awe, and horror of all those around him.

Lezard had fought it, fought the magic and the death it would bring. His efforts alone shouldn’t have been enough, Nifleheim’s magic such that all of Asgard should have been up in arms over it. Over the threat of it, the danger, the taint of the underworld creeping in with him. The sin of it alone was a death sentence, Hel and her followers not welcome in Asgard. They had NEVER been. And they might never be, Lezard left alive by the grace of one God. By Lord Odin himself, the God not so much in a merciful mood as he had been curious.

Lezard had always known right from the start that the mission had been dangerous. That there had been little if any chance of success. That too many had already tried. Too many who had tried and then failed, finding their lives were the ultimate in prices paid. Hel hadn’t cared, the underworld’s Goddess too obsessed with, too determined to get a foothold into the heavens. Mage after mage was commanded, many promising talents lost to one mad deity’s lofty ambitions.

Every last one of them considered expandable, Hel had sacrificed close to one thousand mages in her attempt to gain an audience with the heavens’ king. Spread out over countless centuries, and Odin had never ONCE deign to speak to any of the queen’s ambassadors. Lezard shouldn’t have been any different. The power inside of him shouldn’t have been anything worth noting. And yet there was a reason that the man was the queen’s favorite, a reason why the magic inside him was so special. Twisted by Hel’s touch as it was, there had still been no masking it’s own unique flavor.

Odin hadn’t been able to resist it, hadn’t been able to contain his own curiosity. Here was a power, in a human no less, that was unlike anything in all of Creation. That odd mix of the divine and the damned, Hel’s brand upon him not able to strip away entirely the superiority that was in the mage’s blood. Odin had looked at Lezard and had seen the puzzle fit, a decades long mystery and it’s secrets unraveling.

His existence the key, the tangible proof of an unforgivable crime, Lezard had by all rights been Odin’s to strike down. The God shouldn’t have hesitated, shouldn’t have allowed any doubts to have plagued him. And yet it had, Odin having wondered a great many things. The why of it, and the many possible what ifs, Lezard the Goddess Hel’s trump hand revealed, the mage possibly just the first of a legion of such elite.

Even if he wasn’t, even if the mage was a wholly unique anomaly, then why would Hel have risked him? Why play this tact so early? To scare Odin, or to seduce him? The King of the Heavens hadn’t been able to tell, and perhaps it was that uncertainty that had troubled the Lord all the more.

Unable to make a decision, unable to outright try to right Hel’s wrong, Odin had instead settled on a subterfuge of his own. Having made himself comfortable on a smooth sided boulder, the God’s eyes had never diverted from the mage. Odin had born silent witness to the man’s struggles, to Lezard’s exhausting efforts to tamp down the magic that had been betraying him. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed how neither the Valkyries nor that of the undead had realized and been alerted to him. He had been completely oblivious, Lezard not aware of anything save his own difficulties and desires.

He certainly hadn’t felt the shielding spell that had been placed around him. The magic that muffled and contained the underworld’s taint. That same power that had clouded over his senses, Lezard aware of little, until after the God had sighed. Odin’s breath had expelled on a great gust of wind, that breezy current having held a hint of winter’s frost to it that made the mage shiver in reaction.

It had been more than the cold that had caused that reaction. There had been a surge of power behind him, a great spike of power that had surpassed that of Hel’s. It hadn’t been there just a second ago, Lezard having now become aware that a new player had entered into the field. A God by the feel of it, one of such immense age and power that there was few if any to truly be of rival.

Having expected to be then be struck down by this God, Lezard had still tried to speak. His tongue had faltered inside his mouth, Lezard’s mind so alarmingly empty. He hadn’t been able to find the words, hadn’t even been able to think of them, Lezard having tried and failed to plead for his life.

The killing blow had never actually come. Instead of fists or a sword, or a blast of divine ether, the God behind him had merely sighed again. There had been admiration in that sound, the God’s low, husky voice then speaking.

“They are beautiful, are they not?”

Of all the things that the God could have asked, that offhand comment spoken in so casual a tone, had been the last thing that Lezad had been expecting. He had nodded a slow yes without even thinking, too astonished to do much of anything save stare straight ahead. At the arresting sight, the dozen upon dozens of examples of Odin’s beauty at work.

“Beautiful and deadly.” His tone had been strangled, Lezard having wondered if the Valkyries would be the last sight of his. He hadn’t wanted to die, and yet Lezard had instantly sought out the figure in the cobalt blue armor. Let THAT Goddess be his last memory, that ethereal vision the only thing worthy of taking with him to his eternal damnation.

To his shock, a soft rumble of the God’s laughter had come from behind him. It hadn’t been a cruel sound, the God more pleased than anything that Lezard could have expected. It almost reminded Lezard of a proud father, the God speaking in a tone that was far more fond than anything Lezard could have imagined.

“It is an intriguing mix, is it not?” The God had wanted to know. Lezard had been unable to deny it, the mage no more immune to the charms of the Valkyrie women than most men.

“The soft beauty of a woman…” The God had continued after a moment’s beat. “Tempered with the violent aggression of a man.” Lezard had nearly winced then, watching as an especially vicious thrust forward had impaled a spear straight through some ghoulish nightmare’s body.

“Ah…” The God had breathed out with an approving sound. “But unlike those mortal creatures, my Valkyrie are perfect. They hold neither the vanity of a woman, nor the weakness of a man.”

It had been deliberate, that provocative statement meant to incite. Lezard had known that as fact, and still he had bristled, his masculine ego having been insulted. “And just what weakness is that?”

The God’s answer had been immediate, the words as provocative they had been hard fact. “Greed, lust, cruelty. Those many, many dark little impulses your kind has to do harm to others. I could go on for an eternity, and still not cover them all.”

It had been said in such a mocking manner, the God’s derision apparent in his every spoken word. This was a man, a God, who had little like nor love for those he viewed as a lesser species, who had actually looked down on the human race as a whole. It was everything that Lezard had been warned against, the teaching of the underworld and it’s Goddess along with the decree of the Heavens themselves, all the truth needed to support the claim that Odin and his kind didn’t much care about anything, anyone not born of the Heavens. It had still been a struggle, both to accept that rudely taunting condensation quietly, and to not offer a scathing retort of his own. Lezard had fought for his control, had actually let out a deep, exaggerated breath, the mage watching the battle before him. His eyes kept on being riveted by the Valkyrie in the cobalt blue armor, an idle thought upon him, Lezard having wondered if SHE was like all the other divine. His infatuated heart though hadn’t wanted to believe it, his soul alight and alive with the desire that she had helped rouse.

Unable and unwilling to believe the worst of her, Lezard had let the sight of the platinum haired Valkyrie work off the edge of the red hot anger that had been boiling to a bursting point inside of him. Once the worst of the anger had been brought under his control, once Lezard had no longer fought against the scathing words that had remained locked inside him still, the man had had a realization. One that had so shocked and surprised him, that Lezard had forgotten to be wary. With a strangled shout, and with a sudden spin, Lezard had turned, getting his first look at the God seated behind him.

“YOUR Valkyries?!” He had then exclaimed, his jaw agape with his shock. With the realization that this wasn’t just ANY God before him, but that of the King of them. Odin of Asgard, the Ruler of the Heavens, and the very man that Hel had wanted Lezard to speak with. Under the guise of negotiations between the two realms, Lezard would have been expected to manipulate and lull Odin into a betraying a weakness. Some flaw that Hel herself would have been able to build upon.

Truth be known, Lezard hadn’t expected to see the God, let alone get THIS close to him. And yet here Odin was, seated comfortably on the rock as though it was the finest of thrones, completely and utterly relaxed as he had looked past the mage to gaze out with a fond expression at the battling group of Goddesses. There had been a slight softening to his features, the faintest of a smile there that had been one bursting with pride.

“Each and EVERY one.” The God had then acknowledged, his coal gray eyes focused on the battle before him. There hadn’t even been a tension to him, the man not frightened of Lezard or that of the thread of the undead. They had all been but insects to a God as powerful as Odin, annoying but otherwise harmless.

Speaking with that tone of pride and possession, Odin had inclined his head slightly to Lezard. The mage had then took the visual clue, starting to turn to see just what had caught Odin’s eyes this time. The fighting had drawn closer, the Valkyries absolutely brutal in the way that they had continued to make sport of their foes. “For as long as they can fight, they are each mine. To do with as I see fit.”

It had always been that way. The hard truth of it a fact that was a cornerstone of the foundation of the universe under Odin’s rule. Everyone in all of the nine realms knew of Odin and his Valkyries, knew of their purpose, and of their unflinching duty. Both guardians of his cosmos, and executioners of the God’s law, Odin’s Valkyries had had their lives, their very existences, mapped out by him.

The divine fire in their blood, these Goddesses had been forged by armor and steel. There had been a driving need inside each of them, a regimented focus for order and law, the violence inside them a cold, practical thing that thrived not on cruelty, but on justice. It was the Valkyrie that saw to the safe guarding of all the realms, who both protected and rewarded Odin’s followers for their faith.

These same Goddesses who pulled off such miracles, weren’t just the turning tide in the war against the undead. They were also an incentive. Everyone, EVERY man, woman, and child knew of the fate of the fallen Valkyries. Human, elf, divine or otherwise, and even that of the undead, all knew what was promised. What had tempted many a human and an elf into an alliance with the Gods. It wasn’t just that the women were beautiful, that marriage to one elevated your status in the eyes of all. It was the blessings that came with having a former Goddess as your bride, the beauty, brains, and strength of the Valkyrie passing on to their children. The best and the brightest in all the realms, many of Creations’ strongest heroes, and most brilliant and crafty of strategists, had been birthed from a Valkyrie bride. All of whom had raised up arms in the name of the God Odin, the warriors his to command in life and in death.

The heavens full of these soldiers, there had been few if any to rival Odin’s amassed strength. Most knew enough to not even try, and of those many factions of Creation, only that of the combined forces of the many kinds of undead, and that of the underworld’s followers, even dared to separately attempt to make trouble. Both failed to make any lasting and long differences, neither Brahms’ undead, or that of Hel’s followers strong enough on their own.

It was the Valkyrie blood that was making all the difference. It was the Valkyrie’s children who had kept the realms from being overrun. From being destroyed completely by that of the undead, and from Hel’s own insane ambitions. They truly were the ideal in women, so breath taking lovely and strong, that they were in high demand everywhere, even in a land like Flenceburg. A kingdom dominated by the underworld, and a people completely free of Odin’s reign, and there too were the warrior Goddesses so coveted, so lusted after by the men.

It was a lust that had always meant to go unfulfilled, the people there shunned. Looked down upon, even hated for their alliance, Hel’s followers had been damned in more ways than one. A greedy, grasping nation of people, Flenceburg and the other lands that had fallen under Hel’s rule, had let their lust for power and wealth drive them. A nation built on the backs of betrayals and manipulation, of cruelty and fear, Lezard had been able to admit, at least to himself, that Odin hadn’t been so far off after all. Not about mortal men and the weaknesses that the God had derided as being inside them.

Even Lezard himself wasn’t above or below such weakness. His hands were too stained with many a misdeed, the mage having been well aware that his own life record wasn’t much of anything to be proud of. The man had done what he had needed, to survive, and to thrive, no other real choice afforded to him. There had never been, Lezard damned, doomed to a life under Hel’s thumb from the first moment the promise of his magic had made itself known.

The unfairness of it all had begun to bother the man more and more, Lezard increasingly aware of his own mortality. Of the odds stacked against him, the enemies more so than age set to bring him down, and sooner rather than later. It had always been the way of things, Lezard at the very top of the food chain when it came to Hel’s people. And once at the top, there was little else distance to travel but DOWN. There simply was too many people, too many eager to take Lezard’s place. Too many willing to sacrifice and push him over, and Lezard was aware that the swift and brutal fall would not end with his death.

Damnation awaited them all. Damnation awaited HIM, Hel hardly the forgiving kind of Goddess to show ANY of her followers mercy. She used and abused them as she saw fit, had done so for a millennia of time. Grown and groomed under her care, the Underworld’s followers hadn’t had a chance, hadn’t known much of any other way but that of Hel’s. Doomed and damned by the life they had all been born into, by the nation that had branded it’s corruption into their very soul, Flenceburg and the like weren’t going to find any salvation at the hands of any other God. Not even that of the King, Odin of Asgard an uncaring, intolerant despot who had no use for any one but those that could fight and win him his battles.

He had ALWAYS been that way, Odin tossing aside his undesirables, the sick and the elderly, any and all who did not fight and die in glorious battle in HIS name. The underworld was jam packed with the souls of the undeserving, men, women, and children all made to suffer for Hel’s amusement and rage.

He had bore witness firsthand to the tortures that Hel had delighted in inflicting on those innocently undeserving, on them and on sinners alike, Nifleheim’s Goddess just as quick to torment the damned as she was the doomed. It made her both feared and hated, even as the damned all tried to curry favor with the Goddess, each one hoping, praying that their end fate would turn out differently.

No one had ever found a way around escaping Hel’s punishment. No one had ever even come close to it, but Lezard had still been determined to try. Odin had seemed to be the key, to be the one and only chance of a salvation, Lezard had been prepared to risk it all, to pull off the ultimate in betrayals for the God’s promise of something better. He had just never dreamed that there would be something that the mage would want more than that of the heaven’s paradise.

Unprepared for the rush of desire that would hit him, that near undeniable want, Lezard had turned back towards the God. Odin of Asgard was now LOOKING at him, the divine being holding an expectant air to him. Lezard had paused a moment, before offering up a greeting, his tone completely respectful but lacking the reverent awe that so many of Midgard would have been prone to voicing. He had simply been that unimpressed, Odin not the first or the last of the divine that Lezard would ever have dealings with.

“Lord Odin.” Somehow Lezard had managed to keep the disdain out of his voice, the disgust that this God inspired. A bleeding heart Lezard might not be, but the mage still hadn’t been able to understand how any one being could be so cold and uncaring, so callous and cruel and NOT be insane.

It had been thoughts like that, and the disgust, that had nearly kept Lezard from protocol. It had been the annoyed look in the God’s eyes, and Lezard own increasing instincts for self preservation that had the man sketch a quick bow. The mage hadn’t been about to go down on his knees, not for a God he didn’t follow, and certainly not for one that Lezard so despised.

It had been enough, Odin at last giving his own bit of acknowledgment. His eyes had narrowed, the God having continued his looking, not so much studying Lezard and his outward appearence as that of his soul.

“You are not one of my Valkyrie’s einherjar.” He had stated. His nostrils had visibly flared, Odin sniffing with disdain. “The scent of the death you cause may cling to you, but it is a far different trait that gives you away.” A further narrowing of the God’s eyes, Odin giving him the once over. “Necromancer. I have been expecting you.”

That Odin had known him for what he was, hadn’t much surprised Lezard. There had always been a magic inside him, an unholy potential that had singled the man out to more than just Hel. That dark power inside him, the damning energy and the foul deeds that had result from it and Hel demands, had all thoroughly left a mark on the mage. What HAD been surprising? That the God Odin had acted as though he had been awaiting his arrival. Lezard hadn’t been able to fathom the how and the why of it, any more than he had been able to ascertain if the God had been prepared to receive him as a visitor rather than a threat. Lezard had still hoped against the latter, the man not wanting his life to be ended before he could so much as draw the breath needed in which to make his plea.

“It’s very…” He had hesitated then, the uncertainty of what Lezard had faced, leaving the man to take extra care with the choosing of his words. “It’s very KIND of you to come greet me, yourself…”

“I was curious.” That admittance had had Lezard lifting an eyebrow, the mage staring at the God.

“OH?”

“I thought to myself, what reason could Hel possibly have THIS time to have sent yet ANOTHER one of her minions here to my domain. Is she really that reckless, or is it that Hel simply has more souls than even SHE knows what to do with?” Odin had chuckled then. “Hel certainly cannot still be fool enough to think I would ever be lured into an alliance with her….” His head had cocked to the side then, Odin having again made Lezard the focus of an intent, scrutinizing stare.

It was unnerving, Lezard having blinked slowly in an attempt to recover. The God gad simply set him off balance, Lezard feeling a little too slow and dull witted to make any real progress. “Queen Hel is prepared to…to make it a very lucrative alliance….” He had trailed off at Odin’s laughter, that gruff bark of disdainful amusement that had chased away all the light from the God’s eyes. It had made Lezard’s blood run cold to see, the mage having been certain that he was about to be struck down.

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?” Odin had demanded. A kind of scoffing snort had followed those words, Odin absolutely disgusted, maybe even downright disappointed with Lezard. “What could she possibly offer that I don’t already have?” Those words, that question, had been accompanied by a grand gesture, his arm encompassing the combatants around them, the Valkyrie and the einherjar who had since joined them in the fight against the undead.

“As you can see…” Odin had continued with a gloating smile. “I have all the soldiers that I need, the best and the brightest in all the realms, picked fresh from the many who have died. How can she hope to compete, what does Hel think that she has, save for the leftover remnants? The weak and the damned, those not fit for my paradise?”

Such words had had power to them, for both their cruel undertones and the absolute truth of them. Certainly the words had had a power over him, Lezard reacting. He had tried and had failed to keep the God from riling him up, Lezard’s face heating up with his anger, with his very resentments. It had all come pouring out as a challenge, Lezard almost mocking the God with questions of his own.

“And what of the living?” Lezard had asked. “The many of Midgard, the many who follow Hel….The many that could be utilized in your war with the undead?”

“What of them?” Odin had questioned in a flat tone of voice.

Lezard had been too caught up in the moment, a hint of his pride revealed in the boasting tones that he had then used. “You have seen my power, have you not? Gotten the briefest taste of just what I am capable of. Imagine an army of such powerful mages at your command….”

“If Hel had such an army, if she was even capable of empowering so many, your Queen would have overrun the Heavens by now.” Odin’s tone had been ever so dismissive. “No, such power is a rarity, and that which you boast about is so tainted by Hel’s hands, so thoroughly corrupt, that it makes you little better than Brahms ilk. The both of you lot need to be put down as the menace that you are.”

Lezard hadn’t been able to stop himself, or the anger. “We could never be considered similar to that of the undead!” He had snapped out in protest. “They see us only as a food source and as a way to bolster the size of their armies. What they don’t destroy, they make use of…”

“You know this, and yet it is YOUR kind that STILL falls the fastest when it comes to the undead and their seductions.” Odin had made a chiding sound then, the God having shaken his head as though in disbelief. “Is Hel’s domain so horrible that so many of you would prefer the life of an undead to the eternal rest of Nifleheim?”

“Rest?” Lezad hadn’t been able to stop himself in time, the mage scoffing. “Is that what you equate her tortures to?” He had shook his head then, biting at his tongue. “No, Lord Odin. I can say neither Hel’s torture, nor that of an eternity spent as one of the undead, neither one makes for an attractive option.” His tone had turned bitter then, Lezard unable to keep the anger and the disgust, the disdain, from seeping into his voice. “But then the paradise fields of Asgard have long been denied us. Denied to all but that of the elite who have fought and died in YOUR name.”

Such bold face impertinence, fact though it may have been, should have seen Lezard struck down dead. Instead the God had seemed to enliven to the topic, actually having tried to debate the merits of HIS way with Lezard.

“You think it wrong of me to deny some paradise?” Odin had asked, pausing long enough to receive Lezard’s stiff nod of agreement. “Ah, but what is the promise of paradise if it was freely give to any and all?” Odin had wondered out loud. “One must work to achieve it, and my demands are not so harsh…”

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

“Anyone can fight.” Odin had interrupted him. “It just takes skill and practice to be able to fight well.”

“Are you saying then, that you would have everyone fight then? The untrained and those without any skill? The sick and the elderly, the children and their mothers all going to the slaughter, just for the chance to get into your paradise?” The shock that he had felt, had nearly left Lezard shaking. On some level he had known and accepted that the God was an arrogant being, but to be faced with the disdain and the lack of empathy that Odin so clearly had, had almost been more than Lezard could stomach.

His upset and anger would only grow worst in the face of Odin’s calm retort. “That is a choice left entirely to the mortals.”

His blood had boiled over with his anger, with the frustration and the despair that this cruel deity had helped inspire. With that seething rage inside him, Lezard had never felt more a danger, that reckless anger uncaring, wanting to lash out against the insult that was the God Odin. It would have bee suicide to even try, the strength of Lezard’s magic still not strong enough to take out a God.

That vast difference between them, both in age and in power, and the rapidly fading chance of the salvation that Lezard had still stubbornly hoped for, those were what had stayed him. His magic and his tongue, Lezard breathing out an exasperated breath as he had struggled to get himself under control. A flash of braided platinum, the Valkyrie that he had so admired having stepped into just the edge of his vision, had Lezard then turning.

The sight of her had calmed the worst of his fury, Lezard able to then breathe better, to think clearer. But not even the Valkyrie could chase away his disgust, the repulsed feelings that Odin himself had continued to inspire.

The God hadn’t seemed to have noticed, hadn’t realized, or just hadn’t cared. Lezard was inclined to believe it had been the latter, Odin clearly an existence that didn’t much care what others had thought. About him, or about much of anything, the God considering himself superior. Such arrogance the likes of which Lezard had never known, Odin was in sore need of a smack down.

Such a reckoning would not be made by mortal hands. At least not in so physical and permanent a way. But there were OTHER ways to strike a blow to Odin’s ego, to take from him the things he most valued. It was a knowledge that Lezard had, a secret that could and would steal from Odin the very things needed to empower Hel to realize her ambitions. It brought a very real dilemma to Lezard’s heart, the struggle of right versus wrong, the desire of what he had wanted and what he had hoped, leaving the mage conflicted.

His salvation possibly in reach, and Lezard had still hesitated. Odin hadn’t known enough to keep quiet, the very sound of the God’s voice a grating annoyance.

“How desperate must your queen be.”

There had been no reaction from him, Lezard instead choosing to stare straight ahead. To keep focused on the lovely warrior, the vision in cobalt blue that had so effortlessly caught hold of his interest. Her braided hair was in constant motion, Lezard unable to catch a lasting impression of the entirety of the Valkyrie’s face.

“Hel has to realize that she is wasting time, both hers and MINE.” Odin had continued. “I will never trust her enough to make that alliance.”

“Do you fear her then?” Lezard had dared to ask. Odin had rewarded the absurdity of that question with his smug laughter.

“Not in the slightest.” Odin had turned ti boasting once more. “She is no match for me.”

By the strength that he had sensed was contained inside the God, Lezard had known that much to be true. “Alone yes, but perhaps…”

“She thinks to get help?” Odin had guessed then at Lezard’s silence. “From who…none would dare…”

“The undead might.” Lezard hadn’t been able to keep from needling the God.

“Brahms” Odin had hissed. “Is HE Hel’s game?” Lezard had merely shrugged his shoulders in response, thinking it interesting how bothered the idea of an alliance between Hel and the undead Lord had made the God act. Lezard had even gone so far as to privately wonder if there might be some weakness that was there to exploit.

“So she thinks to force my hand, does she?” Odin had been all but muttering that, the divine energy that had leaked off the god, a power that had spiked with his agitation. Again Lezard had only shrugged in answer to Odin’s voice, the mage patiently focused on the Valkyrie, on the wish to see her face for longer than a few seconds.

His silence had only added to the God’s unease, Odin having continued his musings out loud. “She really is desperate….”

“Aren’t we all.” Lezard had murmured.

“Or maybe she has grown tired of waiting.” Odin had accused.

“Centuries of failed negotiation attempts would do that to anyone.” Lezard’s tone had been pointed then, none too subtly reminding the God of just how hard the Goddess had tried at forming an alliance between the underworld and the heavens. The alliance itself had been nothing more than a sham, an excuse to set up Odin for the betrayal that Hel was itching for.

There had a long pause, Odin having digested the words. “Is your Queen REALLY intent on an alliance?” Odin had finally asked, his thoughtful tone laced with suspicion. “Or it it something more? Does Hel seek something beyond that?”

It had been too close to the truth. Lezard had been glad for the distraction of the Valkyrie, watching the figure of her battling form dance across the battlefield. The sight of her brought such an immense pleasure to him, a lifting joy to his heart that had helped to center and calm his inner being.

Odin had sounded frustrated then, the God bothered by Lezard’s lack of reaction. It didn’t stop the deity from trying, from attempting to pry the truth of Hel’s ambitions from him. “She couldn’t be thinking of stirring trouble.” He had said. “She’s not THAT stupid.”

“Oh, and what trouble would that be?” Lezard hadn’t been entirely able to resist baiting Odin.

“You tell me.” Odin had answered in a level tone.

Lezard had almost smirked then, ready to bait his hook, when it had happened. A pivot of her heel, the platinum haired Valkyrie having turned for some reason. There had been a loud, sickening squelch of sound, the Goddess sword having then thrust forward, the blood and gore covered tip protruding out of the back of a monster. Already in awe of her as a woman, and as a warrior, it was her sheer brute strength that had reminded Lezard that this was no ordinary female. With that strength and her ability, the Goddess having taken on a monster nearly triple her size.

The monster had howled out it’s pain, a wail of such immense agony that any and all who had heard it, had known it for the creature’s death knell. Clawed limbs had dropped down to dangle limply at it’s sides, the monster’s immense weight only doubling, staying upright only due to Goddess and her sword. When it would finally hit against the ground, the sharp thud of sound had made the very Heavens themselves shake, Lezard barely able to keep upright.

The ground had been unstable, HE had been unstable, Lezard inhaling a sharp breath at the sight of the Goddess’ face bathed in the moonlight. With the pale glow of the moon upon her, with her skin so white and so smooth, with the gleam of the few platinum strands that had slipped free of her braid, Lezard saw the Valkyrie’s face fully for the first time.

That stark loveliness, that ethereal beauty, it had been a sight that had left him staggered for breath, his very heart having felt as thought it had leaped to his throat to choke him. That sweetheart face, those soft pouting lips, lent an air of divine sensuality to her, the Goddess a vision that would have fit just as perfect in his bed as she so clearly did on the battlefield.

Without even having realized it, Lezard had then made a sound. Some strangled noise of his blatant admiration. For it had been that precise moment, that the awestruck mage had known that this was a woman, a goddess worth obtaining. For it had been just the chance of worshiping at her feet, that Lezard had realized that he would pay any price.

“Ah…” Odin had noted just where Lezard’s attention had gone. “Her name is Lenneth.” He had then said. “A most favored daughter, her accomplishments as a Valkyrie number in the thousands.”

“Lenneth.” Lezard had breathed out her name with all of the awe and reverence that should have been the God’s due. Instead the mage had been dismissive, completely ignoring Odin in favor of the warrior Goddess.

Odin hadn’t seemed to have minded, the God going so far as to seize upon the opportunity that this distraction had afforded him. Lezard had been vaguely aware of the questions, the none too subtle prying that the divine Lord had attempted. Lezard hadn’t been able to answer, hadn’t wanted to, simply too focused on the Valkyrie. Too lost to the feelings that she had aroused inside him, those unfamiliar longing leaving him struggling. The infatuation and that wholehearted desire, Lezard having been lost, helpless to do anything but stare enrapt.

It had all been so new to him. The feelings that had birthed to life inside of him had been so wholly different from anything that Lezard had ever felt, any experience that the man had ever had. No woman could compare, no female had ever even tried, his heart almost hurting with the need that had come alive inside of him.

Driven by the need to possess the Goddess for his own, there had been no other choice. No other hope, Lezard having put aside his doubts and his disgust. If I am to tell you anything of any lasting importance, we will need a suitable and secure place.” Lezard had laid out the first of his cards to Odin, his eyes still on the Valkryie. On Lenneth, her armored figure the motivating force behind his every word now.

“Can one of Hel’s agents even be capable of the truth that I require?”

“When the…reward is valued enough, THIS one can.” He had heard Odin’s chuckle then, had felt the spike in power a moment before the ether had hit him. For one second Lezard had thought that he had been betrayed, that Odin had chosen instead to strike him down. It had made him panic, a protest in his throat that came out a startled squeak as Lezard found himself dropped to his hands and knees

Instead of the rough and uneven grass and ground of the plains of Idavoll, Lezard had felt the smooth pearl like texture of a floor. He had opened his eyes, had seen the pristine white underneath him, the floor stretching out for miles before him. It ended at the foot of a dais, a deep royal purple coloring the velvet carpets that draped over the stairs. His eyes had traveled upwards, Lezard taking in a vague impression of marble columns, and walls that were gilded with silver and gold. There had even been a twinkle of the light, the gleaming facets of jewels arranged into decorative patterns on the ceiling. They had looked like a multi color of stars, spread out against a midnight blue backdrop.

It was an impressive sight, one that not only rivaled Eljudnir, but outshone it. Light and airy to Eljudnir’s dark, Queen Hel’s castle was a cold and stark place. For all of it’s wealth, and its carefully crafted beauty, Eljudnir had never felt like a home so much as a prison. With its sinister shadows, and the danger everywhere, death had lurked in it’s every corner.

Castle Valhalla was it’s complete opposite in every way. It didn’t matter that they were at the heart of a battefield, that the castle and it’s surrounding lands were constantly besieged by that of the armies of the undead. There was a warmth here, a prevailing sense of comfort and ease that was suffused into the very foundation of the building. It gave off the illusion that one was safe, that one was protected, by the castle and by the very beings who lived on inside it.

At the top of the dais, on a throne that looked to be made out of silver and gold, had sat the God, Odin. His pose had been one that had belied his impatience, the God drumming agitated fingers against the gold gilded arm rest.

In the moment, Odin had very much reminded Lezard of Queen Hel, the Goddess often having done similar from atop her ebony throne. “Well, mortal? Speak!”

“Do you honestly think me so foolish?” Lezard had questioned with a mocking lift of his brow. “I am not so stupid as to betray one God without securing the promise and protection of another.”

Odin had been outraged. “You DARE presume you have ANY right to my promises?!”

“It is that daring that will keep me alive.” Lezard had countered. His expression had been tight, the mage unable to so much as smile, the moment, the promise, too serious for anything else. “You must give me your word that no harm will befall me. Not from your hand, and not from that of your people.”

It would take Odin time to answer, the God slowly considering the mage’s request. Several long minutes would pass before the God would then nod. “So be it.” He had said but not without grumbling. “I swear on my father’s name and all that I hold holy, that no harm shall be done to you by me, or by my people.” He had flashed a disarming smile then, Odin’s words holding a none too subtle threat. “I cannot swear the same of your Queen.”

Lezard had had to stifle a shudder. “She can never know that I am telling you this. No one can.” He had braced himself then to be unflinching, Lezard exhaling a deep breath as he had admitted the following truth. “Queen Hel is not in the market to ally with you. She has NEVER held that as her true desire.”

“That is not much of a surprise.” Odin had admitted.”But then why waste the time and the resources on such a ploy? How many of her minions have I already slain for her ruse?”

“Thousands.” Lezard had readily answered.

“So many lives wasted…Whatever is the point?”

“On the off chance you’d fall for it.” Lezard had stated. “Hel has want of so much, has the ambition and the desire to take what she can—ALL that she can.”

“If it’s a war that she wants…”

“Hel knows she couldn’t win with a direct assault. Not as things now stand, not even with your resources spent fighting against the undead. Crazy that she may be, my Queen is not stupid.” Lezard had told him. “Instead she seeks the advantage that your distraction with Brahms’ undead will give her.”

“Midgard?” Odin had guessed with a growl. “She thinks to take over my holdings in that realm.”

“It’s more than just Midgard that Hel is after.” The outward calm that he had projected, had been at odds with the racing beat of his heart. “She wants your everything, and Hel is not afraid to use any and all means to get it.”

“What can she do?” Odin had scoffed.

“What can’t she do?” The mage had countered. “She’s a Goddess in her own right..”

“She is INSANE!”

“She is also determined.” Lezard had pointed out. “If given the enough time, the right resources, and the information needed, even Hel would become a formidable opponent.”

“I’ll deny her all that and more!” Odin had snapped out a roar, pounding a fist against his throne’s arm rest.

“Do you really think you can stop her? When she has already had centuries to prepare?” Lezard had asked.

“Tell me everything.” Odin had then ordered.

It was almost TOO easy, Lezard had thought, to gain the God’s undivided attention if not his trust. It would have only taken a few more subtle twists, and Lezard was certain he could have carried out Hel’s plan. The sham of an alliance he could have forged, Lezard than prying secrets, the weaknesses from Odin and his followers. With just a few words, Lezard could have realized Nifleheim’s ambitions, conquering the realms with the very knowledge gleaned from Creation’s own ruler.

“Not so fast.” Lezard had said out loud. “I have a few…demands of my own.”

“Oh?” Odin’s eyes had narrowed further with his suspicion. “And what else would you beg a favor of?”

“Two things.” Lezard had been calm, his fingers having adjusted the glasses that sat over the bridge of his nose. “There are two things that only you can grant to me.” There was a long pause, the God glaring hatefully down at Lezard. Odin had seemed to stare right through him, the God’s thoughts clearly elsewhere, a debate raging on inside him. Lezard would stand there patiently, waiting until at last Odin had sagged slightly with defeat.

“Go on.” He had said in an exhausted tone of voice.

“I want paradise.” Lezard had hastened to explain. “I want your guarantee that when I die, it will not be to Hel’s underworld that I go to.” He had folded his arms across his chest, Lezard’s lifting his chin up stubbornly in response to Odin’s bark of mocking laughter.

“A sinner like you in Asgard’s paradise?” Odin had shook with his laughter. “That will never happen.”

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

“And why would I? What could you possibly know that would ever make me allow such a thing?:

“If you knew what I knew…if you had any idea of the full enormity of Hel’s plans…” Lezard had shaken his head then, stopping himself from saying too much. “Instead of HER spy, I will be YOURS. The past, the future, and most assuredly the present, all her secrets and her plans will be revealed to you.”

With a persuading tone, Lezard tried to sway Odin to his side. “You can’t even begin to imagine what she has already done. The alliances that she had made, the plans that Hel had already set in motion.”

“She’d be a fool to attack me head on…” Odin had protested. “Her armies…”

“Are only growing in size.”

“With what and with who? The damned and the undeserving?” Odin had jeered then. “I am not afraid, and I am not worried. They will NEVER be enough to annihilate the Heavens.”

Lezard almost hadn’t been able to believe just how big a fool that Odin had been acting. Had he really been that powerful, or had it just been overconfidence that had led the God to believe that Hel might never become a threat?

“How could you have not noticed?” He had asked Odin that, rather than outright insult him. “Have you really no idea of the drop in your own forces? Have you not been told of the dwindling numbers when it comes to newly acquired einherjar?” By the expreesion that had been on Odin’s face, it had been clear that the God had, and that that fact had troubled him greatly. Lezard had pressed the advantage, his voice almost whisper soft then. “It is by no mere coincidence. Your lack of new recruits are all through Hel’s designs.”

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

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

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

“”You’ll just have to hope that my trust has been well bought.”

“Trust does not come easily, especially when dealing with one who bears Hel’s mark.” Odin had gruffly pointed out.

“It’s a trust that you will have to give all the same if you’re to stand any chance of defeating Hel and her plans.” Lezard had calmy stepped back, his tone of voice practically detached as he had begun to detail the first stage of his plan. “If I’m to pull this off, we will have to make it seem as though you really have bought into Hel’s deception.” He had stroked his chin as though in deep thought, Lezard pretending to have to think about it. “As a token of the alliance, I think a gift is in order.”

“I’ll not give that bitch a single thing more!” Odin had snapped.

“It’s not a gift for that Goddess.” Lezard had retorted. “It’s a gift for ME.”

“For you?!”

“Call it a token of appreciation, a symbol of just how highly you favor my help in smoothing things over between the heavens and the underworld.” Lezard had explained with a smile.

“And I suppose this gift would be the second of your demands?” A wry tone of voice had accompanied the God’s glare, Lezard only smiling all the more widely at him.

“You know me all too well.”

“I know you not at all.” The God had said with a rude snort of sound. He had then given an impatient gesture with his hand, signaling Lezard to get on with it. The mage had then smirked in response, his eyes looking a little too eager, as he had explained how he had wanted a certain Valkyrie for his bride.

The God’s outraged response was as startling as it had been expected, Lezard quick to understand just why Odin would think that too high a favor to grant. A Valkryie with a sinner, with a blaspheming follower of the underworld’s Goddess? It was unheard of, an unspoken taboo that Odin hadn’t been prepared to break. It had left Lezard scrambling, the mage working to not only remind Odin of just what he was owed, but of the threat of Hel. The threat and the reasons why they had need to fool her into thinking Odin believed in the alliance.

“What better way than that?” Lezard had demanded. “What better proof do you have than granting Hel’s emissary a highly sought after prize?” Odin had still look unconvinced, the God shaking his head no with a frown. Lezard’s vocie had taken on a cajoling tone, the mage trying to make the deity see the validity of it. “It’s the only way…”

“You ask for much.” Odin had snarled in response. “Many would say TOO much.”

“Given the danger I am putting myself in, the risks that I am and will be taking, some would say I don’t ask for ENOUGH,” Lezard had countered. “I could be killed.” He had added. “In fact, Hel would do WORSE than just kill me.” The risks weighted out in his mind, Lezard had thought of everything that he had stood to lose. His life, his home, his power, his prestige, and of course his very soul. With so much at stake, it wasn’t just fitting, it was a deserved reward that he had asked for and expected.

That reward his to dictate, Lezard had felt the satisfaction curl across his lips, Odin having at last nodded his head in agreement. Triumph and a dizzying sense of relief had then filled him, Lezard almost swaying in place with the excited disbelief that the Valkryie Lenneth would soon be his.

His elation had been short lived, Odin’s gaze narrowing into a sharp focus. “You shall have my Lenneth as your bride.” He had said, as a finger raised in warning. “BUT! At a cost to you.”

“A cost?” Lezard had sputtered in disbelief, watching as Odin had then smiled at him.

“You have asked me for two extremely valuable prizes. But you only offer me enough service for ONE.” Odin’s expression had blazed malevolent, his smile twisting into an expression of pure evil. “”If you take a Valkyrie as your bride, Asgard’s paradise will be forever denied to you.” The God had paused, sneering down at Lezard’s shocked expression. “What will it be mortal?” Odin had then asked, leaning forward in his seat, intent on the mage’s answer. “Lenneth or paradise?”

Once if told of this dilemma, Lezard wouldn’t have even hesitated, the man certain of just what he would have chosen. The Lezard of just a day ago, wouldn’t have dreamed of anything else, eternity’s paradise that coveted a goal. One frozen moment on the Plains of Idavoll had changed all that, the remembered vision of supreme loveliness bolstering his strength. With not a single ounce of hesitation, without even any regrets, or a second thought, Lezard had boldly met the Lord God’s sneer, and had stated the following.

“I would rather have a lifetime of paradise with Lenneth as my bride, then spend an eternity in Asgard without her.”

There had been an unreadable look in the God’s eyes, Odin having stared down at him. “So be it.” He had agreed in a grave tone of voice, the very building itself then shaking in the advent of those three simple words. The very promise of them had been written into Lezard’s soul, the bargain sealed and made irreversibly final.

Even then he hadn’t known regret, Lezard calm and accepting rather than panicked by what he had just done. Lenneth had been all that he had been able to think about, all that he had wanted to focus on, Lezard eager to learn any and everything that there was about his bride to be. Odin hadn’t let him, the God instead insisting that they had had much to talk about. Everything from the plans Hel had been making, to the reason behind the shortage of new warriors. The hows and they whys of what she had done. Lezard had told Odin it all, had endured the questions and the fury, Odin enraged by Hel and her mad schemes. The schemes that had been working, her interference such that the Valkyrie had barely been able to gather any new soldiers for Odin’s war.

All in all, it had taken a good four hours to satisfy the enraged God and his questions, Lezard exhausted by what had amounted to an interrogation. Odin hadn’t allowed the mage the same kind of scrutiny, the God evasive when asked just when and how Lenneth would arrive in Flenceburg. The one and only reassurance that Lezard had had was that the Goddess would not be hurt in the process.

Lezard had never dreamt of the mental anguish that Odin would instead inflict on his Valkyrie. The hurt and the grief, Lenneth the one and only survivor of an ambush that should have seen all of the Asgardians dead. Tortured by the guilt of it, and by the loss of her sister, Lenneth had arrived and been blindsided by a truth she should have already known and been prepared for.

~Damn him!~ Lezard had thought again. He was so angry with Odin, so angry and so hurt, and made absolutely furious by Odin’s neglect. By the sabotage he had done, Odin quick to turn his back on a promise, and leaving Lenneth to think that she was being punished.

It was more than just the lack of information that Lenneth had been given, the explanations that Odin himself had owed her. It was the danger the God had let his Valkyrie walk into, Lezard sickened by the idea that for the grace of the undead king, Lenneth would have instead died in the ambush’s slaughter.

The danger and the lack of explanations all the things that went against what Odin had promised, Lezard couldn’t help wondering just what else the God might have gone back on. Just what else woud he try, Lezard determined to not let Odin have so complete a victory in making a mess of his private life. The mage would fight tooth and nail for his happiness, for his chance at a future with Lenneth as his bride. That sweet bliss that he had so sought now seemed all but impossible, the odds stacked so neatly against him, Lenneth horrified by what she had discovered. She hadn’t even been able to hide it, the woman’s lack of expertise when it came to deceit and to subterfuge apparent, her eyes, her very expression open and honest, and thoroughly affected by the spell. That love that she was enchanted to feel, it hindered her further, Lenneth frustrated and struggling, trying to keep from being taken over by the full effects of Odin’s enchantment.

It left her in a constant state of assault, Lenneth’s mind in agony, tortured not just by Odin, not just by the loss of her sister and her comrades, but by the very love that the Valkyrie had been enchanted to feel. It was that love, that struggle that made her so honest, that left her unable to school her expressions, Lenneths every horrified thought laying revealed in the stricken gleam of her eyes.

She didn’t hate him. She COULDN’T, Odin’s enchantment simply too strong. It didn’t stop the fear and the upset, the blatant horror from manifesting, Lenneth reeling in place. She was a pale skinned perfection, the dismay of her expression an equally arresting sight. The woman’s mouth actually trembled with her upset, the determined set of her jaw offset by the defiance that struggled to blaze bright in her eyes. She wasn’t happy. With him, or with where she had ended up, and Lezard couldn’t blame her. Not when he knew how it might feel to be in her shoes, to have had the position and power reversed.

Of course, if by some reason, Lezard had been the one to find himself stranded in an enemy nation, the mage would have also found a way to make the best of the situation. He was after all anything but stupid, Lezard quite calculating and sly. There was a brilliance to him, a mad genius that didn’t just have to do with his magic, Lezard able to both manipulate and play the game of those around him. It was what he had thrived at, Lezard working the angles so that he had always emerged on top. He had fought, schemed and earned his way to his position, Lezard lord of a nation.

Flenceburg was both the only home that the man had ever known, and the field in which he had honed all of his skills. It was a nation that could and would break you, an immense strength need to survive it. That strength had always been a part of Lezard, the man all but clawing his way from the cradle to the throne. He had stepped on so many, had done so much evil in the name of surviving, and never had the sorcerer had a true need to protect another. Never had he wanted to, and never like the way he now did with Lenneth.

It wasn’t that he thought the former Goddess a weakling. But there was a vulnerability to her, a softness exposed that had everything to do with her mental torment, that hurt that she was feeling made all the stronger by the enchantment that she was under. Lezard wanted to spare her from it, wanted to take Lenneth into his embrace and assure her that everything would turn out all right. He had no real guarantees of it, Lezard aware that Lenneth was in danger, surrounded by enemies of a far different kind.

What might be her greatest threat had then appeared, a large group of women spilling out into the hall. The relative quiet of the servants were disrupted by the giggling gaggle of nobles, the women dressed in their brightly colored and expensive finery, enough silken frills and imported lace to profit an entire kingdom.

The wealth was on display, but not so much a sense of good taste. The women in their form fitting, and revealing clothing, lighting up with excitement at the sight of their Lord. At the sight of the women with him, the group hurrying forward.

“There he is!” Came the exclamation, the crowd parting enough so that a tall leggy blonde would take the lead. Her gold spun hair had been left unadorned, and had blazed bright against the deep purple of her gown. There was an emerald colored lacing edging her bodice’s curves, the waist cinched tight to give her an even more slender appearance. She was admittedly beautiful, and yet Lezard had felt not a thing when it came to desire. Instead, the man had to stifle a groan at the sight of the woman, having hoped against hope that this moment could have been avoided.

“Hello Mystina.” Lezard couldn’t stop the audible sigh of exasperation, or keep the annoyance that he felt from showing. The man felt as though he had barely been heard, barely been noticed, Mystina and her group slinking past him with excited murmurs.

“Is that her?” One had asked. “Is that the Valkyrie?”

“Oh but she is lovely.” Another had sighed in admiration.

“Look at her hair!” Another had exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such an unnatural color.”

“It’s beautiful.” Another had whispered, trying to reach out to Lenneth. The Goddess had turned, side stepping the touch that would have stroke reverence over that braided hair, but there was no avoiding the group of woman who had moved to surround her.

“Ladies, don’t crowd her so!”

“Oh, do relax, Lezard.” It had been Mystina who had spoken, though her tone and her words had hardly been reassuring. “They’ve just never seen a Valkyrie before.” A murmur of agreement from her companions, the awestruck compliments continuing. They were all so focused on her appearance, and on what Lenneth had once been, the women scrutinizing the Valkyrie. Asking her a million and one questions, and seeming oblivious to the unease in the woman’s eyes.

It had been more than just unease. Lenneth had been tensing up for a fight, her fingers flexing as though she would curl her hands into a fist. Her eyes had kept on darting from one face to another, Lenneth trying to watch all of them, and failing to keep from being touched. The onslaught of questions continued, some of them bordering on rude. It didn’t seem to matter that Lenneth was not trying to answer ANY of them, Mystina and her group far too excited and curious to care.

If it had been anyone else, if it had been any other woman, Lezard might have been amused. Instead for Lenenth, a strange sort of pity roused on the heels of his strong surging anger. The magic crackled inside him, raised the hairs on everyone’s neck. A few wide eyed looks were cast his way, the more talented of the bunch sensing Lezard’s desire. His temptation to unleash an offensive spell. With that broiling energy inside him, with the power ghosting along his skin, most of the women wisely stepped out of his way. The blonde Mystina wore the utmost in annoyed expressions, the woman glaring narrowed eyes at him as Lezard reached forward and grasped hold of his Goddess’ hand. She didn’t quite flinch, Lenneth allowing Lezard to pull her free of the complaining group of women. Mystina’s voice would be the loudest, the angriest, the woman shouting after him that he wouldn’t be able to keep the Valkyrie all to himself. Lezard hadn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, instead breaking them into an abrupt run.