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lotornomiko · 3 years

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Triumph’s Tribulatons: The Completed Chapter five (Worksafe)

Finally...

For what had felt like an eternity all in its own, the high ranking Lords and Ladies of the Heavens have held session, resulting in tiresome and ultimately fruitless discussions that had ended with leaving both Gods and Goddesses frustrated, and still desperate for a solution. For a saving, that unavoidable problem before them looming ever closer with the group still too stubborn and perhaps too stupid, to embrace the only real answer. It left them shaken to their cores, made wretched and pathetic, and colored ever so frantic, from Freya to Eir, to Thor, and even Tyr, they now all suffered with their first real taste of fear.

That desperation and those panicked feelings, made for a good look on them, the fear there that had been tasted, leaving a certain raven haired trickster holding back a smirk, a near euphoric feeling blooming inside him to see the divine and the world they had so callously ruled over, made so down trodden and pathetic. They were left choking on such feelings, on even humility and its foul tasting bitterness. Such a brutal combination made for a devastating despair, wreaking particular havoc on a certain Goddess, the golden haired Aesir besides herself with a grief she refused to fully acknowledge, but it was shaping her all the same. Her every thought and action, Odin dead, and not even her haughty Vanir blood line could protect her from that truth for much longer.

Already enjoying the sight of Freya’s unraveling, Loki relished the thought of the Goddess on her knees, broken and shamed, groveling in a way that would do nothing save to serve HIS ego. There was a grudge there, an insult that had never been forgiven, Loki holding a particularly vicious dislike of the Goddess, given that for all of her humble beginnings as a Vanir hostage, Freya and her younger sister, Frei, had never even suffered a quarter of what Loki with his mixed blood line had. It didn’t much matter that both had been born of the enemy, for their blood was wholly pure, while Loki had existed as one half Aesir, and one half Vanir. A blight of an existence, one barely tolerated by Odin, and outright shunned by Surt. Loki hated all equally, from the two tribes of Gods, and the world that they had squabbled over, to that of the nine realms with all their many foolish souls who had so blindly put their faith and worship in such tyrants.

It was a hatred not only birthed, but constantly nurtured in resentments, its like strong enough as to be the root cause of Ragnarok one day, but it wasn’t a desire to rule Creation as they had all known it, that motivated Loki now. This world and all who had known it, could literally rot away for all he cared, and indeed it already was part way there, the Heavens and its eternal summer, now knowing the first stages of an early chill. The cold weather wreaked further havoc on the shining realm, the once vibrant scenery withering away almost faster than Yggdrasil itself could. The sight of that great tree bearing what was its final death throes was just another shade of glorious, Loki again fighting back a smile, even as the wind seemed to blow the frost through the very leather of his clothing.

This was nothing compared to Jotunheim and its world of eternal ice, yet the rate of decay would one day soon see Asgard surpass the Vanir’s realm, into something far WORSE. The universe itself in upheaval, the chaos was a vintage so delicious that Loki was almost drunk off of it, toasting Creation and its downfall, while secretly plotting to remake it into something that was all the trickster’s own. How glorious it would be, the loathed now king, ruler over everyone and their all. He just needed a few more pieces of his chessboard to fall into place, the divine treasures needed, as well as Odin’s power. That source of raw energy was that much closer to being in reach, Loki almost absolutely certain that God as they had known him, was now dead.

It left a void existing in the world, the divine throne needing a power strong enough to quell the chaotic energies that had run a muck. That Freya and the others couldn’t see pass Odin as the answer, showed how unfit any of them were to take up Creation’s mantle. A pity for them and a pity for all, existence soon to be molded by a hand that was no less cruel than Odin’s had once been. Loki’s lips nearly curled then, his expression mocking, as he thought on how he would become a bigger and a better tyrant than even God himself had been, with the four treasures to back him, that and Creation’s power flowing through him.

There was but one minor set back. That very power of Creation, its precise location unknown even to the Trickster, leaving Loki as desperate as the others, albeit for a different reason. All wanting that human’s head on a platter, not even the raven haired Loki knew just how to search for him. The one and only gateway to Lezard’s world, has been sealed shut, and it would take more than any single Gods’ power to get there. Though he hated to admit to it, he needed the others’ help, needed their power working together, in order for the desired pathway to be forged. It was an unfortunate fact, that few if any of the current pantheon of Gods could think to see a bigger picture beyond saving their own hides. They were desperate, and dangerous, clinging to both their power and what remained of their eternity. Many a lie would be needed, tricks and manipulation used to weave a deceit that would give enough false hope to those he required aid of.

It would take more time and effort than Loki had truthfully been prepared for, and he could only thank the lucky stars, that only the seven were required. That those seven were not only the most powerful of the Aesir and Vanir combined, but also the most disagreeable in nature, was a bit of a problem, Loki having made little to no headway in this particular scheme. It was no doubt thanks in part to Freya, the golden haired Goddess the one whose voice the others stood a chance of heeding the most. She was powerful, not just in physical and divine strength, but in opinion, and thus far, the most resistant to all of Loki’s lies and truth twisting he had tried. Tried and thus far failed to plant a potent enough seed that could seduce Freya into falling into his trap. She was too guarded for that, too invested in Odin and her flimsy grasp of love, to want to believe that the Lord God Creator could have suffered any truly unfavorable fate. She clung to hope, which was a laughable idea of a Goddess, of any of the divine, the woman actually harboring it, and what was worse, was how she got the others to do the same.

It was insane and it was maddening, the way they all cow towed to the Goddess, to Freya and to the memory of Odin, as though they were all too stupid to grasp the concept of someone else moving to supplant that tyrant, and take over as Creation’s Ruler. Loki angled to do both, to seize Odin’s everything, but to also manipulate the others with none too subtle suggestions that were meant to seduce them into considering a broader view. It had started with a simple truth, that had been carefully worded, as to hide the lie within it, the trickster having pointed out that A Creator WAS needed on the throne. It had been a careful twist, the raven haired halfling, never once insinuating by name that HE meant to be that new God.

He couldn’t wait. For all that power, for the reshaping of this wretched world, and to finally have his revenge in hand. Then they would all see, Loki proven as something more than just mere Trickster and half breed, but the one being in all Creation that was truly the perfect blend, all the good and the bad of both Aesir and Vanir in him, transforming the raven haired youth into the ultimate of Gods. He would put Odin to shame, would see them all humiliated and humbled and DEAD.

It was a visceral reaction he had to that, to his revenge based desires, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. Loki had almost forgot to be on guard, out in the open as he was, on this island dais that had somehow managed to remain attached to Valhalla’s presence. Anyone could stumble upon and see him, anyone at all, and it was just his luck to feel a familiar warmth that was not wholly unwelcome ripple from behind him.

His eyes closed, his expression leveling out to be something a shade more serious and solemn before turning. The ripple grew in strength, little bursts of light sparking as reality itself seemed to split open. He heard the sound of her ether, the musical chimes that heralded the Goddess arrival. His eyes seemed to water from the effort to make out her figure amid the blurring of colors, Loki first focusing on a pair of long legs, clad in knee high brown boots. A bit of thigh was next seen, before being swallowed up by the short hem line of a very form fitting tunic. Elbow length gloves encased her arms, and the look was complete with a little brown cap that was edged in gold, like the rest of her. But she was no golden Goddess like her sister, Frei instead one to embrace the more earthen variations of her chosen colors.

She put on a brave smile, even as the unnatural wind caught at and lifted her braided hair. That burst of color was a brown that had a bit of dark red woven into it, Frei an auburn haired beauty, who looked ill prepared for the weather at hand. It shouldn’t have bothered her, given her Vanir blood, and yet she shivered all the same, the Goddess hugging arms around her as though that would lend an added warmth.

“It’s so cold!” She exclaimed, and Loki could only give a small nod back. “How can you stand to be out in this wind!?”

He gave an uncaring shrug of his shoulders, but offered no real explanation. How could he, when it was thoughts of his impending revenge achieved that was warming him from the inside out, Loki burning with that need. With the victory he was ready to seize. Hot with it, Loki could only make a half hearted attempt to pretend to be as cold as the young Goddess, watching out the corner of his eyes, as she seemed to dance in place.

“Frei, if you’re really that cold…” He began but she cut him off.

“I can’t bear it!” She exclaimed. “I have spent weeks scouring via the Water Mirror, and have come up with little to show for it! Nothing of our King, nothing of the one who has taken him, and nothing of Gungnir, or of the other three Divine Treasures!”

“So they still remain missing.” He mused while holding back his grin. For yet another one of his schemes was proving fruitful, the Divine Treasures lost to the Gods who searched so desperately for them. Of course they all suspected that Gungnir was in that new world for by Freya’s own account, she had seen the mage lay hands on it before taking off with Odin. But Levantine and the Sylvain Bow, and even the Dragon Orb, had all been lost, or so they all thought. He muffled his laugh into a sympathetic noise, thinking how two of the unaccounted three were already in his keep. The sword and the bow, and both would be needed to give Loki the added edge to take on that interloping human. Especially if all was as suspected, Loki assuming the man not only had the Divine Lance, but had also laid claim to Odin’s power.

Lezard Valeth would prove a fight, although not one that was wholly impossible given the right tools at hand. A human shouldn’t be cause for concern, but this one was no mere man, but a mage proficient enough in the forbidden magics to have beaten Odin. That earned him a respect, and gave Loki a reason to be wary, and that was before accounting the fact that Gungnir had accepted the Valeth human. Creation itself seemed to have, this Lezard wearing the power like he had been born into it, rather than had stolen it. It was almost admirable, the mage and his desires so powerful as to warp existence itself to suit him. In another life, they might have even been on the same side, if not for the fact Creation’s throne was only big enough for ONE.

Determined that that one would be Loki, the Trickster intended to go into that fight with the odds loaded in HIS favor. The demon sword Levantine, and the Sylvain Bow were just that, nice boosts to his power, but he’d feel even better once the Dragon Orb was found. With three of the four Divine Treasures, not even Gungnir would be able to withstand Loki for long. It would be an easy slaughter then, and with the power and the lance claimed, nothing would be able to stop him then. Not even the combined might of all the remaining Gods and their soldiers.

“Where could they be!?” Frei’s frustration interrupted Loki’s own private musing. “I’ve searched, and I’ve searched...as have so many of our einherjar.”

“Ah but I’ve heard tell not even the einherjar are immune to Midgard’s sickness.”

Frei gasped at that. “You don’t mean…?”

“That I do.” Loki gave a nod of his head. “Without a Valkyrie to guide them, the einherjar that tread on Midgard’s realm make easy prey for that weakness.”

“What are we to do then?” moaned Frei, putting fingers to her temple as though feeling a headache coming on. “How are we to get anything done!?”

Another shrug of his shoulders. “That I suppose depends on your sister.”

“On Freya?” Wide eyed was the look she gave him. “What do you mean? What can she do that she hasn’t already?”

Loki considered his words carefully, as he looked over the Goddess clad in those earthen colors. Frei had always been the closest thing to a friend that the Trickster has had, the young woman the only one among the divine pantheon, who truly took the time to try and do more than just tolerate the raven haired God. Hers was a kind nature, this young Vanir with her wide eyes that were normally filled with such hope and optimism. If there was one soul in all of existence that Loki did not harbor a grudge against, it might just be HER.

That she held some sort of esteem in his eyes, did not mean that the Trickster was any less inclined to use her if a need arose. With a few twists of the truth, and some subtle manipulations, she could become a powerful tool to wield against her sister.

“She needs to come to terms with the truth that the world itself tries to show her.” He said at last.

“The truth?”

“Odin is DEAD.” Loki said to Frei’s startled gasp. Her eyes had widened in shock, the young Goddess shaking her head no in denial. “That Yggdrasil, nay that the entirety of his Creation rots, is proof solid of THAT.”

Frei had turned from him, turned from Valhalla, as though seeking out the withering corpse of the world tree for herself. The Goddess trembled as she stared at it while Loki all but whispered in her ear. “We need not die with it….with the tree, or with the memory, the hope that your sister clings to.”

He pretended to care, to gentle his words, a hand on her shoulder as though to lend the shaken woman his support. “Your sister LOVES Odin.” The trickster said. “She is in denial, and lets herself be blinded to the fact that we need A Creator on the throne. If not Odin, then the next best thing…”

“And that would be….?”

“Not what, but WHO.” Loki answered. “One of us must claim the power that had existed inside Odin. Thor, Tyr, even your sister, one of them surely has the strength to sustain the world with it.”

“If that were true, wouldn’t they have already…”

“You’d think that, and yet it hasn’t happened. And do you know why, Frei?” She shook her head no. “Freya.” stated Loki. “Hers is a most powerful voice, one the other Gods all listen to. So long as she so stubbornly clings to that foolhardy belief, none will truly argue otherwise. But you could change all that, Frei!”

“Me!?” The Goddess squeaked, turning so fast, her braided hair swung for the effort. “What can I possibly do!?”

“Talk to her! Reason with her!” Loki exclaimed, and it wasn’t all an act, that earnest fire in his eyes. “You are the only one she might listen to when it comes to this! The world itself depends on it, on you, Frei…”

He had taken hold of her hands in a gesture that mimicked one of Frei’s many familiar overtures. She glanced down at their joined hands, chewing on her bottom lip as though considering. “It’s worth a try…” She began hesitantly, giving an uncertain nod of her head.

“More than worth it.” Loki insisted. “If anything of Odin’s world is to survive…”

“Lord Odin’s world may not have always been a kind one, but there is merit in its existence. The people there, our friends and family, our home...they MUST be saved.” Frei’s choice of words almost made Loki sneer, for he had no real family, and could claim only one sort of friend. A friend he was actively lying to while smiling in her face, Frei oblivious to the trickster’s true intentions.

“Yes...they must.” He pretended to agree with her, all the while knowing she was in for a world of hurt when HIS reality slapped Frei in the face. “Odin may be nothing more than a memory now, but his legacy will live on IF we act...if Freya gives the call to save it.”

“She will…” Frei had started to sound more confident now. “I’ll see to it!”

Loki did not have to hide the grin that overtook him, his face alight with a smile that might be considered dazzling even to a Goddess. Another piece was soon to fall into place, Frei the push needed to get Freya to galvanize the Aesir into true action. He felt not a single shred of regret at the using he was doing, Frei too naive and gullible for this world, and much better suited in an entirely new existence. He’d offer her a chance, a place in HIS Creation, and perhaps if she felt something, some small kernel of true affection, the Goddess would have spared HIM the effort of KILLING her.

====

The marble of the floor had sealed itself together seamlessly, not so much as a sliver of a crack to betray the chaos that had gone on just moments ago. That or of the anger that had been felt, the world itself a living extension of what had been in its God’s heart. Such has been Lezard’s displeasure that in that moment, Creation itself had acted, moving to protect him and his interests, spiriting the frightened Goddess away to somewhere else safe. Safe from his rage, and safe from his desires, the man who had once been human, having pushed too hard, too fast, too soon.

She wasn’t ready. He knew that, every bit from her fight to her flight had in fact acknowledged it, the fear that was in Lenneth’s heart. It had sent her running, the Goddess scared, not so much of what he might do to her physically as much as the emotional havoc he had been intent on wreaking. The truths that had needed to be confronted, and with it would come all of its pain, such sorrow born of those lies that the woman had told herself. She wouldn’t be spared its sting, not even God himself able to shelter Lenneth from the agony of breaking free of such warped delusions. The comfort it had once given her, was now nothing more than a crutch, one that that divine beauty needed to break free of if that heart of hers was going to stand a chance at any true solace.

It wouldn’t be easy, that fact something Lezard could acknowledge in his more rational moments. His beloved needed a far gentler hand than he had thus far been capable of, that near overpowering lust of his, making him impatient and clumsy whenever she was so near. So consumed with the want of her, his attempt at a controlled veneer had all but shattered when her fear had turned violent, Lenneth’s fist finding its mark against his jaw. It had left him so close to doing something unforgivable, illusions torn and discarded if not for his world acting instead. Protecting him as much as her, Lenneth swallowed up whole into an abyss that had opened up beneath her feet.

Even now she was still there, free falling in an endless darkness, that heart of hers in an absolute turmoil that would only be the start of her unraveling. There was both pain and pleasure in the idea of it, Lenneth this intoxicating brand of everything that Lezard could have ever wanted. Her heart, her soul, that of her mind and her body, her tears, her agony, and that of her happiness, the man wanted it all. He was obsessed with the having of it, of attaining paradise with so perfect a being. It was so close to a reality, that he could almost taste it, his blood stained hands reaching for it, for her, Lezard this newly remade being, the ultimate Lord of it all, Lenneth and the effect she has always had on him, the one thing this God could not control.

Even now he was tempted, sheer folly though it would be to go after her right now. Lenneth was too wild in the moment, too angry and afraid, tormented by a truth he had only merely hinted at, such insinuations holding the strength to make a Goddess reel in an absolute terror. It was a fear not just for herself, for what might be done to her, but that of her world, the paradise that she had created. That perfect utopia that was nothing more than a lie that her wounded soul had retreated into, every insinuation that Lezard could make had the power to tear that universe apart from the root, the very foundations it had been built and brought to life upon.

It was a world of desires, that perfect paradise grounded in a pain so blatant that it had nearly torn the Goddess apart. That heart of hers that had been so ripped to pieces by the sins committed against her, it had left Lenneth reeling in an agony even she herself had not understood, the Goddess so overwhelmed in the moment as to escape into a fantasy. An illusion, the deceits woven there all by her own hand, the ageless woman latching onto a figment, the fragment that had been dangling before her. Seizing upon it, with that earring in her hand, out of all the lives she had slept through, it had been the latest, that of a child, a girl no older than fourteen when she had died, that had helped feed into a delusion. In that moment she had been thinking not as a Goddess, but as a human, a child, torn apart by a loss that had been about more than just one man’s death.

The seal had been broken, a flood gate of emotions overtaking the Goddess. How much agony had it been, to remember them all, every last life that had hosted Lenneth inside them. The highs and the lows, their joys and their pains, hundreds upon hundreds of women, all helping to shape the Valkyrie’s humanity. Her compassionate heart, the depth of her millennia of experience far more than anything those scant fourteen years as Platina could have given. She was just a sliver of what had helped shaped the Goddess, so small and inferior a speck, the child was not who Lenneth was meant to be.

So much more than any one human girl, Lenneth was in fact a being so uniquely her own. A caring Goddess, one whose capacity to feel and sympathize with the mortals a threat that Odin and the other Gods could not abide by. They hadn’t killed her, they had done WORSE, the woman’s free will taken from her, her true sense of being SEALED away.

A safeguard meant to control that which the Gods could not understand, that human compassion that that particular Goddess had been gifted with, the likes of which had been cultivated and learned over the course of a millennia of different hosts. Through them she had loved, and Lenneth had cared, the woman so wholly unique in her ability to FEEL, the Goddess the champion that the mortals had needed. The Gods had feared it, feared Lenneth and the allegiance that such emotions had wrought, Odin needing the Valkyrie to be a good little soldier who fell into line with his own selfish wants. Unable to dominate her as she had truly been, that tyrannous God had tried to eradicate her spirit, that of her true self, through such archaic means, such a brutal manipulation of the self, such that Lenneth had been little more than a doll. A puppet, beautiful and perfect, and so wholly without the feelings that would have interfered with the Heavens’ schemes.

The Gods had seen her as nothing more than a Death Goddess, a chooser of the slain to bolster their own armies with the souls of dead heroes. They had let her pick from the brave as though they were mere flowers, calling into service warriors from all corners of Midgard. Leaving her exposed to the very thing that the Gods themselves had feared, the emotions that were so plentiful in the humans, putting cracks in the shield erected around Lenneth’s heart. Bit by bit, that ancient magic had been worn away, the seal itself eroded with each and every encounter, until it had finally shattered, and with it went Lenneth’s mind, the woman having snapped.

It must have been so, so overwhelming, to have been hit at once with all those feelings, with the many lives she had slept through, their hopes, their desires, all coming to life within Lenneth in startling clarity. Was it any wonder she had lost her true self in the process, spinning from one host to another, again and again, until she had latched onto the most recent, that of the child, those scant years of fourteen the most overwhelming dream of them all given how fresh it had still been.

Even grounded in that child’s psyche, it had proved too much. Lezard himself had born witness to it, to that mental break that the Goddess had had. The tears that had fallen, the screaming that had been done, it hadn’t been just the Goddess, but the child, Platina, made horrified by the one solace of her life, Lucian the only kindness and warmth she had ever known, LOST, killed in turn by his own refusal to let go of his own delusions.

It had all been such a mess, a tragedy the likes of which all else had fallen short. Her puppet strings not just severed, but left tangled across the board, Lenneth had been operating on a grief born madness, forgetting who she really was, to play fantasy for one ignorant human. For some fake facsimile of him, Lucian a shadow, his miraculous return to life nothing more than a figment born of Lenneth’s own desperation and desires. Instead of the warrior she had known, he was something new, a puppet who was nothing more than some idealized version of who she had thought him to be, Lucian just one of the many dolls whose every thought had been painstakingly crafted by Lenneth’s power.

Creation itself had been remade on desire, on such potent delusions and lies, the many souls there not the people they had once been. They were just shadows of those that had died, annihilated in the Ragnarok that Lucian had helped Loki bring about. It hadn’t just ended lives, it had wiped out everything, including that of nearly every living being’s soul from existence, such devastation a permanent end, the cycle of rebirth itself destroyed. Such finality was there to it, that no one, not even God, could fight against, the world and its people entirely eradicated.

It left the world in complete ruins, Lenneth’s land a paradise populated in lies. It was a copy, a mere imitation of what had once been, formulated out of fragmented glimpses, the memories she had gathered, the people there nothing more than a pathetic bunch of puppets. They were just these hollow husks of what she thought them to be, these seemingly ideal versions ultimately falling short, all an attempt that was unfulfilling when it came towards truly easing the pain in the Goddess’ heart. They were all lies that couldn’t make her truly happy, anymore than they could satisfy her needs. Each and every last one of them, Lenneth living in a farce, a waking dream that could crumble apart so easily given the right push. If enough care wasn’t given, the Goddess would crumble again with it, her psyche perhaps lost to yet another kind of fantasy.

Lezard couldn’t lie and claim that he hadn’t considered it. Hadn’t given thought to molding Lenneth into a fantasy that would suit HIM best. But ultimately, he didn’t want the illusion, that of those broken remnants of who the Goddess had once been. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just a sliver, wouldn’t embrace the farce of just one of her sides. He wanted her everything and her all, Lezard made mad with the desire, with that need. It fueled him, his obsession with Lenneth the motivating strength that had led Lezard into doing the impossible again and again. He had died for her, traveled through time for her, even become a God for her, such a warped semblance of love a catalyst that had no limits and no match. Not even Lucian could compete, that young man unable to see past Platina, and past the Valkyrie, to the supreme manifestation of the woman, a Goddess so sublime as to move a heart that had once been so unfeeling.

Her mark left on him, Lenneth had helped shaped Lezard into this mad man, so utterly devoted in the pursuit of her. Worlds had been ruined, people slaughtered, time itself run roughshod all over, yet his hands were no less dirty than any of the other Gods. Than even HERS, Lezard creating his own world, his own perfect paradise to ease the pain that was in HIS heart. That it spilled hurt onto others, was of no concern, Lezard an unfeeling God who had no desire to rule or be worshiped by anyone other than by Lenneth.

Such blasphemies should have been sins enough to weigh even God down, yet Lezard was instead made unburdened by it all, free of the demands the throne of Creation should have made of him. He was free, having discarded duty the way he had discarded bodies, nothing but time on his hand, and power, and harboring a patience that was fast running out.

====

There was a noticeable mood about her companions this day, an angry, oppressive energy that didn’t lend well to any attempts at talking, just about everyone in a foul state of mind, grudges harbored, even nurtured. Not even Alicia herself could lay claim to being entirely immune, her own feelings in a churning state of turmoil. That sad sort of furious, such things born of the hurt done her, and done HIM in turn, the princess unable to spare the man that she loved from being dealt such a pain.

Her eyes and her heart sought him out when Alicia thought no one was truly looking, Rufus with his brilliant hue of emerald colored hair, and clothing colored in lesser shades of green, gold, and brown. An intricately carved bow of a fine silver metal was at the ready in his strong and capable hands, with the large quiver of arrows that was strapped to his back, not yet exhausted entirely of its bearings. Those weapons aside, the half elf blended well into the colors of the forest, to the point he could have disappeared entirely and none would have been the wiser, not even much sound to betray him, especially with the archer in so subdued a mood.

Alicia bit back a frown, her sad survey of him such that she would have never missed the lack of mischievous sparkle to his green eyes. Or that of the flat line of disapproval his mouth shaped, Rufus bordering on hostile with every arrow fired off, be it monster or snarling animal that they faced. Gone was his good nature facade, the jokes and light attempts at conversation, the man so focused and serious. She couldn’t help but wonder just what thoughts went on his mind, to the hurt and loss of hope that she herself had dealt him, the guilt that sparked in her making her flinch and reel in place, but even stronger might be the frustration. The sad anger that was born of being put in such an unenviable position. Rufus was part at fault for that, for the effect that the princess’ decisions have had on him, but larger yet was the blame they both put on their companion, on Brahms’ broad shoulders, irrational or not such feelings might be. Alicia wasn’t even sure if such a grudge made sense, despite the fact that the Vampire King had held back the truth, the cure needed outweighed by that of the world fast running out of time. The slight chill in the air itself was proof positive of that, this change in weather wholly unnatural for this region’s time of year.

The increase in monsters that had been roaming the woods was another, that vast multiplication in numbers such that a rip in reality might be connecting Midgard directly to Hel’s Nifleheim, that foul netherworld emptying it’s bowels of every demon, fiend, and devil that it could. It made for pure chaos, the trek through this forest a gauntlet of death that a lesser being would have no real chance of surviving, Alicia could only be glad that the Lord of all of the undead, traveled with them on their side. He certainly made a difference, even in his disguise as a human, swinging that big blade around, cleaving apart many with one blow. Not even suppressing his preternatural strength could belie the magnificence of Brahms muscles, many a creature exploding in a shower of guts and gore and blood that Alicia couldn’t help but find glorious.

Her nostrils flared especially at the scent of that blood, such a gruesome display proving more and more mouthwatering with every day that passed. It left her disturbed but unable to deny that a part of her was giving in more and more to the curse inside her, the ghoul powder that was wreaking havoc on her system, making her more than she had been, more than human, more than girl. Not even the ring on her finger could keep the monster inside her at bay for much longer, every step forward that the princess took, taking her further and further away from the cure and her humanity, and by Alicia’s own choice no less.

Not that there had been much option to do otherwise. Not with the entire world needing saving, Silmeria, Lenneth, even Hrist, all three in danger and needed to offset the slow withering the realms were each doing down the path to ultimate destruction. No future would be found then, no chance at life, no chance of anything, Alicia unable to play at oblivious even to spend the world’s final days left as human and happy with the man that she loved. That Rufus could not seem to understand it, and even less accept it, was a sour point of contention between them and between the elf and the vampire, Alicia not blind to the hostile looks he shot Brahms whenever the archer thought that no one was looking.

Even now he seemed to brim with resentments, and more than once, Alicia had watched Rufus sight down his arrow at the Vampire King’s unguarded back. Once his fingers had even seemed to quiver, as though to let loose the projectile, only to at the last possible second, let the sharp tipped weapon slam into the body of a monster trying to prey on their fourth companion, the warrior berseker, Arngrim. The man had barely grunted his acknowledgment of that help, their muscled friend still angry about the disturbances to his attempts at sleep the night before.

It left Brahms the only one not simmering with resentments, though there was a tension inside him, perhaps born of the enormity of the task set before them. He let it translate to violence, to the way he easily tore apart and slaughtered so many of the foes that dare set upon them. Alicia couldn’t stop herself from admiring such a brutal display, anymore than she could control the wildness inside her that lent such effortless ease to her own bloody attempts at destruction. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, letting the curse in part take her over, hacking at limbs the way the princess wished she could her problems, a scream erupting forth from her that set many a creature fleeing.

“Alicia!” She heard the sharp sound of Rufus’ voice, but such concern came from such a distance as to not immediately touch upon her still human side. The princess was almost too caught up in the battle, to the blood lust that she was feeling, the struggle real as was the hunger, too much of that crimson gore around and on her, the young woman caught between want and disgust, the dual natures of herself warring, and even she wasn’t sure which was about to ultimately win out.

Suddenly there was a hand upon her, but it was not that of the archer who grabbed at her now. It wasn’t his hands, wasn’t Rufus’ strength that shook and supported her, Alicia made to spin around and face the vampire, the Undead Lord himself, as the face that he borrowed commanded nearly all of her attention. There was power in those eyes, a hypnotic order that helped to soothe the worst of the beast inside the princess. With that calming came embarrassment, Alicia’s cheeks coloring a bright pink as she realized both Rufus and Arngrim were staring shocked at her, made appalled by her behavior, by the wild abandonment expressed with such shades of brutality.

Alicia felt that moment of weakness hit her, her eyes welling up with tears born of shame, the young princess trying to stifle the sob of sound that escaped her. Only Brahms hand kept her upright, else the woman would have crumpled to her knees, such despair overtaking her, the humanity that Alicia was losing that much closer to being gone, and she could not focus to mourn it, not with the horrified look she still saw shining in Rufus’ concerned eyes.

Brahms wasn’t saying much of anything, as if even the Undead King could not find the right words. Maybe no one could, in a world made this mad and desperate by decay. The humanity that Alicia was losing, was needed less and less for the trials ahead of them, and the Vampire Lord might even think that it better she hurry the transformation along, but he was also trying to be kind and not outright suggest she abandon all pretense at a fight against what was happening inside her. She had thought herself accepting, ready for such an inevitable fate, but there was that part of her that still clung to her hopes and her humanity, and had been made desperate in response to the look of revulsion that the half elf had worn and failed to stifle. It left Alicia such an odd mix of contradictions, that selfless part of her that was willing to sacrifice so much to save the world pitted against this selfish spark that had been born in the face of the disgust witnessed on Rufus’ face. The princess didn’t want him to loathe and to hate her, couldn’t bear so much as the thought of the monster she would one day become losing the warmth of the archer’s love.

“H...how…” A shaky exhale, the half formed question dying on her lips, Alicia downcast and trodden.

“Control is the key.” Came the answer to the question she hadn’t been able to ask in full. “The fastest way to hasten your downfall is to lose it. The more you give in to the beast inside, the quicker the ghoul powder will take hold and wreak havoc.”

Alicia shook to hear that, but couldn’t bring herself to lift her head, not even to stare up at the vampire. She couldn’t understand why he would tell her this, why Brahms would take any measure to help slow down and delay the transformation her body was attempting. Not when it would benefit him, the world, and Silmeria MORE to have that powerful ally at his side.

“Oh sure…” Came the sound of Rufus’ voice, laced with such open anger. “Now all of a sudden you are full advice and cures, when it is far too late for them!”

Alicia immediately wanted to look his way, but the cowardly part of her balked at the thought of chancing upon the still repulsed look in his green gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell her any of this sooner!?” The half elf continued. “Why NOW, save to satisfy your own sick amusement at watching her suffer!”

Still staring at the ground at their feet, Alicia felt the bristle the energy within the vampire did, but Brahms was otherwise without response. Did he have none to give, or did he not feel the need to dignify the archer’s accusations with words?

“What else do you hide from her? What other horrors and secrets do you keep from us!?”

“Now is probably not the time…” Came the words of the warrior, of Arngrim. He was all but ignored, Rufus snarling a loud shout at Brahms, demanding the vampire answer him. His voice almost drowned out the roar, that hiss that was followed by a great, big serpent slithering out from the brush, tongue flicking and venomous fangs flashing, its cold, dead eyes locked on and looking to make a meal out of one or more of them.

“Stay on guard!” Brahms broke his silence to advise them. “That one can down a mastodon dead with a single bite.”

“There’s no end to this nightmare, is there!?” Alicia heard Rufus mutter. He had already had an arrow notched and loaded into place, angling backwards, as he tried to get a clear and perfect shot.

“Not a one!” agreed Arngrim, his broad blade in hand. Brahms was also drawing his, having let go of Alicia, so as to stand ready for the battle that now faced them.

Alicia swayed uncertain on her feet for a split second, before steadying and picking up her own briefly discarded sword. In this moment, there was no choice but to fight, the question of who...of what she would ultimately become, put aside for the moment, as each lost themselves to the lust of battle.

=====

To Be Continued...

What a journey and struggle it was to get this chapter written. I think I first attempted it a year ago, and it was a Rufus POV, but once again the elf was messing me up. I seem to always have him trying to derail me, and not always for the better. Basically not only was he going to have a talk with Brahms that was way too early for the fic, but I realized I was rushing what was happening to Midgard way too fast against the pace of what was happening in other realms, especially Asgard and Lezard’s world. I had originally intended this chapter to open up with a Rufus POV...and got several pages written, but it was wrong for this point and time. Brahms and Rufus do need to have that talk, but I need to set up better why they would have the kind of talk they will end up having...I hope I can somehow salvage some of the initial attempt to use MUCH LATER in the fic.

But yeah, I was stuck for so long on the Midgard crew. Been going through some stuff in real life, especially health wise, and over a month ago, I got real inspired, and wrote the Loki Frei scene….I am trying to make each chapter have three scenes...and when I first tried to write the second scene immediately after the Loki POV...which now that I think about it, also went through at least one trashing….cause the initial attempt got stupid, and had Ull in it too...

Anyway, once the Loki Frei scene was done, I immediately moved on to what was attempted about three times, as a Lenneth scene. Only it was also suffering a pacing problem, meaning she was having thoughts and revelations she shouldn’t have been having this fast this soon...so I had to trash it, and ultimately it worked as doing a Lezard narrative instead. Also before writing the first two halves, I finished watching the scenes of the game’s A ending, including stuff leading up to it, so it strongly influenced me with the trashed Lenneth scenes, and then with some of the Lezard narratives. It had been a few years since I seen those game scenes, so they were very inspiring, and I even wrote down some lines, specifically stuff Platina was saying to Lenneth, that I hope to maybe get to work in somehow. Watching the game canon again after so long, strongly left me with the opinion she suffered a big mental break down when the seal finally broke.

So then for the final scene of the fifth chapter...I was just real stuck. I could not get a Rufus POV written, but then I just felt so stuck on the scene in general. I was desperate, that I would take whoever I could to be the narrating voice for it. I did not want to post five with just two scenes, no matter how frustrated and at times tempted I got...Right now I don’t know if I am gonna waste a chapter on a serpent boss battle scene. Think the next scene with the Midgard crew, will be well after the battle is over. I want to get them out of the forest and to a human settlement, so I can touch more on the Midgard sickness I’ve made mention of, the one that not even the einherjar are proving immune to!

Honestly I don’t even know how I got an attempt at the final scene for this chapter written….I hope it proves interesting at least...Not sure when six will be ready. Kinda been battling OSVP urges, but didn’t want to start down that fic’s path, until I had chapter five of TT completed. I am the type that once I am in the middle of writing a chapter, I HATE leaving said chapter to go work on writing another one. I am rather obsessive compulsive in that…

Later!

---Michelle

#valkyrie profile #lenneth valkyrie #lezard valeth #princess alicia #Rufus #loki #frei #brahms #fanfiction #fanfic #Triumph's Tribulations

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singledarkshade · 4 years

Text

Draining The Swamp

Part Two

(Part One.)

“Who is this?”

Rip looked up to see his new roommate studying the photo on Rip’s bedside cabinet.

“That’s Gideon,” he smiled fondly at her image.

John gave him a slow smile, “Girlfriend?”

“Best friend,” Rip replied, adding before John could ask, “Nothing more.”

Chuckling John demanded, “Nothing more, but you have her picture by your bed?”

Rip shrugged, “I promised her I would keep her picture with me at all times.”

John eyebrow shot up, “That seems a little…”

“Odd?”

“Not exactly the word I was going to use,” John replied, “But close enough.”

Rip rolled his eyes but didn’t reply. He knew people found his relationship with Gideon to be confusing, but they didn’t understand just how special she was and how much she depended on him. Pulling out the notebooks she’d bought for him, Rip saw the small laminated insert fall out onto the floor.

“What is that?” John grabbed it before he could.

Rip sighed, “Gideon gave me a list of things I’m not allowed to do while I’m here.”

“Number one,” John read, “Do not visit Paris.”

Rip gave a slight amused smile, “She’s always wanted to go there to visit the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. We planned the trip years ago.”

“That makes sense,” John chuckled, “Some of the other ones not so much. Number six, no eating chocolate ice cream without me. With the addendum, mint flavoured is okay because it is the worst of the ice creams.”

“John…”

His new roommate continued, “You're not allowed to change your shampoo, if you do make sure you use your normal one before you come home.”

Rip frowned, “Enough.”

“It’s the final one,” John said as Rip snatched the list from his hands, “In capital letters, six exclamation points and what looks like gold stars around it, NO NEW BEST FRIEND!!!!!!”

While Rip tucked the list in his book again, he could feel John’s eyes on him.

“As good looking as this girl is,” John noted, “She sounds a little…obsessive.”

Rip grimaced, “Gideon is a genius. She looks at the world differently from everyone else, and I’m the one person in her life she trusts. She likes her world ordered and me leaving for the next six months has disrupted that.”

John winced, “Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean it.”

“Most people don’t get Gideon,” he continued, “If you ever get a chance to meet her then you’ll understand. She is special.”

*********************************************

“Oh God no,” Harry sighed as he walked into the stadium and spotted Gideon sitting on the stage with another woman, “Why can we not just have one day without…” he caught himself and instead finished, with disdain dripping from every word, “The psychic.”

“Detective Wells, Detective Saunders,” Rip greeted them, “This is John Constantine, he’s the bands manager and an old friend of mine.”

“So, you’re not here…” Harry started.

“No,” Rip cut him off.

The bands manager John Constantine stepped forward, “Thanks for coming. Veronica is pretty shaken up by what happened.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t an accident?” Kendra asked.

Constantine sighed, “We’re sure. We had three of the tech guys along with Rip check the light and where it was attached. Both showed tampering.”

Harry looked over to the band, saw Rip staring directly at him so he turned to Kendra, “Saunders, get the band together and organise the statements. Hunter,” he crooked his finger, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

They headed outside, away from where anyone connected to the band could possibly overhear.

“You’re not just visiting, are you?” Harry demanded.

Rip sighed, “No. John hired us to find out who has been trying to hurt Veronica. This isn’t the first incident, but it is one of the more direct.”

Harry swore before asking, “Why didn’t you just tell me inside? You know lying to the police…”

“Because,” Rip cut him off again, “John doesn’t want anyone, especially whoever is doing this know that he hired a private detective. Or a psychic one.”

Rolling his eyes Harry sighed, “Just keep her under control.”

Starting back in, he heard Rip mutter, “Like anyone can control Gideon.”

Gideon had been sitting with Veronica while everyone checked the lights before it was decided it wasn’t an accident and the police needed to be called.

“I know the police in Central City,” Gideon told the other woman, “They’re good.”

Veronica was shaking slightly when she asked, “Are they sure it wasn’t an accident?”

Gideon gently took the other woman’s hand in hers, “They are. Rip helped them check and I trust him more than anyone in the world.”

“Is he an electrician?”

“No, but he fixes everything in my apartment,” Gideon told her, “And his mum’s, and my sister’s and the office.”

“Office?” Veronica asked making Gideon wince inwardly.

She shrugged, “He should send for someone from maintenance at his work but always prefers to do things for himself.”

Veronica smiled, “Are you two…”

“What?”

“A couple?” Veronica finished amused.

Gideon frowned confused, “Why would you think that?”

Veronica shrugged, “Just the way you talk about him.”

“Rip’s my best friend,” Gideon told her, “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

A shadow covered them, and a soft cough made them turn to where a young woman stood.

“I thought you might want some tea or a coffee,” she said to Veronica, another Londoner, “Since you’ve had such a fright.”

Veronica smiled, “Thank you, Freya. A tea would be wonderful. Gideon, do you want something to drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Gideon stated, she had promised Rip only to drink coffee if he brought it, so he knew how much of it she was drinking. And she hated tea.

Freya gave a smile before disappearing.

“Is that your lackey?” Gideon teased, especially seeing the tattoo on the girl’s wrist of the bands logo although only Jordan’s name was showing.

Veronica chuckled, “Freya is the band’s PA. She gets drinks and snacks, keeps us on time as well as anything else John needs her to do.”

Gideon mused on this for a moment before asking, “How long has she been with you all?”

“Since the beginning of the tour,” Veronica asked, “She is so nice, and I don’t know what I would do without her encouragement.”

Smiling at her again, Gideon turned to where Rip was walking in with Harry. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn’t leave the other woman alone at the moment she caught her best friend’s eye making sure he knew she needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Miss Taylor,” Kendra appeared, “I need to take your statement.”

Veronica nodded nervously.

Gideon squeezed her hand, “It’s okay. Kendra is the best, she’ll look after you.”

Standing Veronica went with the Detective leaving Gideon to look around some more.

Everyone was talking about the fallen light as she walked through. Some were trying to work out who could have done it while others were working to fix it. John was looking harassed when Gideon passed his office as he talked on the phone. Reaching the small kitchen Gideon found Freya fixing the tea for Veronica.

“Are you alright?” Gideon asked, seeing the other woman jump in surprise at her voice.

“Yes,” the younger woman smiled nervously, “Just…worried about what happened.”

Gideon nodded, taking another step inside, “Veronica said you’ve been a rock for her during this time.”

Freya gave another smile but said nothing.

“How did you start working with the band?” Gideon asked guilelessly, “It must be really exciting to be on the road with them and getting to see all the different cities, meeting new people all the time.”

“It is,” Freya replied, “I was just an intern working in the office and John needed someone to help out, their normal assistant wasn’t well. I volunteered and the band liked me. Since the tour began two days later, John asked me to take over as the band’s PA since the normal one wasn’t going to be well enough in time. Pure luck I was in that day.”

Gideon laughed, “Serendipity.”

“I should get this to Veronica,” Freya told her, “It was nice to meet you.”

As the young woman left the kitchen Gideon frowned in thought before heading to John’s office happy to find that he was still in there.

He looked up when she knocked and smiled, “Gideon, what can I do for you love?”

“The PA for the band,” she said softly.

John nodded, “Freya. Good kid, works hard and is very loyal to the band.”

“I’m sensing that she wasn’t always with them,” Gideon touched her temple as she squinted theatrically, “There’s a space. As though someone who is normally with them is missing.”

“Keane,” John supplied, “Keane Markson. He was the PA who normally works with the band but just before we left, he had a car accident.”

His phone rang again, and John sighed, “Sorry, Gideon I have to take this.”

Nodding she left him alone, she needed to talk to Rip.

*********************************************

Rip spotted Gideon walking over to him and hung up the phone.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked, dropping into the seat at his side.

He shrugged, “Just my boss. I had to let him know where some files were.”

She rolled her eyes in boredom before moving onto why she was there, “I was talking with the bands PA and John. She wasn’t supposed to be with them on the tour but the guy who was, had a car accident a few days before.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Rip frowned.

Gideon grimaced, “I know.”

“Harry was not happy we’re here,” Rip told her.

She let out a sniff, “Harry loves us. Well he adores me, but he puts up with you.”

Rip chuckled.

“John is going to send everyone back to their hotel,” Rip told her, “Harry and Kendra will be putting an officer on all the bands rooms but I would suggest we stick with them until everyone is safe in their rooms.”

Gideon nodded before suggesting, “We could try and get a room in the same hotel.”

“I doubt we could,” Rip replied, “With the band staying there it’s probably full.”

“Why don’t you talk to John?” Gideon suggested, “See if he can do anything. We can share, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Chuckling he leaned over and kissed her temple, “I’ll talk to John and Harry, stay with Veronica once Kendra has finished with her. And keep your phone on.”

Rip reached John’s office and found his friend with his head on the desk.

“Should I ask,” Rip stepped inside, “Or just pour you a very large drink.”

John looked up, “There was a fire in the hotel.”

“Let me guess, Veronica’s room?” Rip grimaced.

“They’re not sure. All the luggage was together in a storage room,” John sighed before continuing, “But it spread and now the entire place has shut down. Meaning I now need to find a new hotel for everyone.”

“Well, find a room for me and Gideon as well,” Rip told him, “We were going to stick around anyway. This just means we were right to stick around tonight.”

John sighed, “Rip, I’m getting really worried what will happen if we don’t find this guy soon.”

Resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder, Rip promised, “We’ll find them.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #ripfic #rip hunter #gideon #john constantine #harry wells #kendra saunders #psych au #psych verse

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