Disclaimer: The Valkyrie Profile games and its characters are not mine.
Note: This is my first fanfiction for the series, and the first in a challenge. The subject was 'Chooser of the Slain', and this covers Silmeria's encounter with Woltar where he became her Einherjar. I've tried my best to keep people in-character.
-o-
"Her Highness is upstairs with a child."
It wasn't the first time in his life Woltar had felt his heart tighten, and he quickened. He looked round the laboratory, at its rotting vines, at green and yellow blossoms, the old courtyard and timber stools, and realised how much of Lylia he saw in this place. The plants were his creation, and the poisoned fountain and lack of light, but the dirt was something he'd never see when in her presence. The place was old and dangerous. Lydia was never allowed to play outside without supervision. He had thought it would keep them safe.
A female was in the doorway. Her armour, delicate as it was, was forged from metals alien and tough. Feathers, pinned in the sides of a helmet, tan and black, only complimented the rest of her gold and stone-jewelled armour. Woltar recalled the statues of Crell Monferaigne. She was attractive like a goddess. But the gods, were she one, held no importance at this time. The staircase was laden with the sound of footfalls. The royal soldiers had gone to his lover, and his child, and the future Lydia would face was none he wished upon an enemy.
He made to go past, but she pushed him back.
"Who are you?" said Woltar; he spat on the ground, remembering the taste of blood.
The two watched each other.
"I am a Chooser of the Slain."
Woltar looked at her.
"A Valkyrie."
"Yes."
She wanted him to become an Einherjar. The idea was unbelievable and daft. What Valkyrie desired a man who had not fallen in battle?
"Not only do the Gods order my death, they decide to consume my soul. It is sworn to another. You cannot have it; go back to Valhalla."
"Your love cannot save them."
"It shall do what is needed. Get out of my way."
She did not move.
"It cannot save them because you are dead. It is time you realised that fact."
It was maddening. Soon as she stood aside, he opened the door and ran. He would not have thought her actions untoward, for who was he, a mere human, to understand the mind of a god? But with his words those enemies would be forced to regret their actions; their bodies would feed the vines and their blood would stain the earth. His death would not lessen his intent. What he needed was to protect those who mattered the most. All other things were insignificant, and he had to decide upon a spell. And since the halls had become overgrown he knew not to use fire and explosions; they'd be surrounded and left with nowhere to run.
Woltar checked that the direction was right, and when the hacked vines dropped to the floor and on his feet he frowned, and considered a further five spells whilst hurrying up the staircase. He sprinted deep-breathed across the landing and up more stairs, into their unlocked bedroom and looked round, went back out and seeing nobody made his way to the one place left.
It was too dark. He would not have minded working in such a chamber, but with their child one could not be cruel; human minds craved light and the warmth of the sun. The candle had been removed from the outside table. What Lydia needed was a good strong father; his soul would remain for as long as she required. For Lylia it was passionate always. And since the soldiers had panicked them enough he went inside; but his hand passed through the door and he found he could walk through it. Four soldiers were there, one with red garments not blue, and a ceremonial plume. He faced Lylia. Two stood aside, and one's reflection was in the windowpane. He looked at their child, at the linen frock she wore, at the cloth shoes her green eyes and wristband, and realised how much of him was with her.
"My lady," said the captain. "The King will be glad to know you are safe."
"Lylia, get out of the way!"
"Thank you," Lylia said, keeping Lydia behind her. "Did you see to my kidnapper?"
"Lylia?"
"Yes. He was executed on the spot."
"Lylia, can you hear me?"
He considered the possibility they were apart; he had told her what to say to protect herself, and Lydia, but leaving her like this was something he'd not do. She always made the effort to know the man he was. He ran a hand through his hair. She saw the good in him; though what it was he failed to comprehend. He was a ruthless, vicious man. So if he hadn't spirited her away, she wouldn't have to fear for Lydia. His love made him selfish. A charge filled the air, and the Valkyrie was at his side. Despicable. He turned away from her and hid his face underneath the cowl.
"Do you not see?" said the Valkyrie. "Once one dies, nothing can be done. They cannot see nor hear; they are oblivious. Even love cannot change this."
"Love?" said Woltar curiously.
He waited till Lydia and Lylia were gone. "Do you know who I am? This," he tapped his chest, "alchemist stole the chosen maiden of Freya and raped her, producing a bastard child. That man, who claimed to love her, neglected his duty. And with his failure, their existence; how can such an evil man know love?"
"One cannot deny who they are. You do not sound like the wicked man you claim to be."
Woltar approached the window, and he looked past the laboratory at the surrounding land. He saw a carriage, and the soldiers escorting Lylia inside; one was helping her into the wagon. She looked at the building, at its unclean layer of grime and filth, at the blossoms, and he recognised the sadness at the thought she would be taken to that place. He waited for Lydia. The child was his, and as the Valkyrie was no doubt aware, he thought Lydia would find it hard to create a future. A parent wanted the best for their child. He'd failed them both.
The Valkyrie walked over and said, "You have lost your body. You cannot protect them anymore."
"I do not wish to be chosen by you. Leave me be."
"Your experiments defied nature and challenged the law of the gods. Life is not to be controlled by humans. But your heart is not evil."
Woltar came up with a quick reply:
"Humans are complicated souls. Gods cannot realise this. Their lives are endless, their lives static; they are not bound to fate. How can a god claim to understand my feeling?"
"Gods are not bound by human emotions."
"And if my soul is black, why seek me? Your kind control fate, do you not? Tell me the truth, Valkyrie. Do you care for your sisters? For you have no misgiving about seeing a man die and taking him from his family."
"Be silent. Accept your fate. It will allow you to heal."
Woltar continued: "The issue is not acceptance. The question is how can I be devoted to you? Do you see the plants within this laboratory? Blasphemer, you called me. I sin against nature, you claim. Or do you look at me with pity?" Woltar smirked. "But if so, you break your own words. So come on, Valkyrie. Tell me. You know it'll remain our little secret."
"Very well. I chose you not because Lord Odin wishes to stop Hel claiming your soul, but for your love. You gave the ultimate sacrifice. A man cannot do any less."
"But I failed."
"Failure," the Valkyrie looked at the window, "A human must accept it."
A human, Woltar thought, not a god.
He weighed up the options and said, "I want you to give your word."
"What empowers you to speak so boldly?"
"My family will suffer. Human beings are selfish, just like the king and I. When their time comes, please bring them to Valhalla. Offer them salvation, a life greater than the one I sought to provide. For this, you are promised my eternal service."
"Come with me, then. Let your sacrifice be their deliverance."
She held open her hands, listening to his heartbeat. Woltar disliked the invasion of his privacy. But if it made things better for his family, he would accept it. The Valkyrie would accept his service, he'd wait for Lylia and give her his apology. Her soul was warm, like the Valkyrie's. But he hadn't expected it to be so full. Tens of Einherjar kept getting in his way. Some sought friendship, others offered comfort and warnings; a mage called Khanon was to be avoided. But in the end, he would hold the Valkyrie to her promise. His family were alive but he didn't expect them to because humans were not gods. They were selfish, petty, and vindictive. Lylia had discovered it about him. But were he to admit this, he didn't think she'd mind.
-o-
Four years in Valhalla. It was tremendous yet lonely. Woltar had become familiar with the grand corridors, the archives and beds and war rooms. He'd seen more Einherjar recruited into the Valkyrie's service, checked the libraries were vacant, and when the trickster and her dolls neglected to follow his daily routine he smiled, and went inside to collect a book before going to sit before the world tree. He lay his crooked wand amidst the grass and opened the cover, crossed his legs and turned pages, pulled his hood back and seeing nobody began his memorisation.
He would not have said he followed the gods, but with his servitude came advantages; their collections were extensive and the artefacts numerous. Their status as Einherjar gave them access to ancient knowledge. A silhouette covered his patch. And since this shadow had been lingering long enough he looked back; it was one of Silmeria's mages. His hat was pointed and his collar upturned; enough to hide his face.
"Woltar," said Mithra. "Lady Silmeria told me to give you her message."
"I suppose she couldn't do it herself," he said, lowering the book. "What is it?"
"It's time I fulfil my promise; Lylia will be amongst us shortly."
He was offered company at such an important time; it certainly was generous of Mithra, but awaiting his family was something he'd do alone. He always wondered when Silmeria would bring them home. Woltar dusted off his cloak and stood on his feet. He picked the staff up and went to await Lylia at the bridge of Bifrost.