Moans sounded continuously, along with low muted cries that spoke of pain. Voices followed those cries, low hushed whispers trying to soothe the ones who were suffering. But for some, there was no quick easing of their pain, no medical miracle that could comfort them over the loss of a limb, or the hurt of a sword that had stabbed deep inside.

Some cried because they knew they were done for, their wounds more than even a Goddess could heal. Those were the worst, frustration and sadness welling inside her, making her feel completely useless. Helpless, as she hovered over the latest soon to be casualty, holding hands that were burning hot from the fever coursing through their body.

His eyes barely focused, the young man unable to see much of anything. But his hearing still worked, the man taking comfort from the prayers she whispered to him. The prayers that begged for his soul's safe journey, for the calm and peace that would follow the ending of his pain.

He was still lucid enough to have questions. Still able to speak in a hoarse voice that cracked on his pain. Asking her if he would finally have the rest he now longed for. She forced a smile, nodding a yes, telling him his soul would soon rejoin that of his family. That earned her a weak smile from him, the man telling her it had been several hundred years since he had last seen his wife.

She knew it would be a joyous reunion and still she wished he didn't have to die. That none of the people in her care had had to die. Nor could she be satisfied with the knowledge that these men and women had held death at bay for years, sometimes centuries due to their servitude to the Gods.

The man's grip on her hand was weakening, his fingers going limp. He was finally passing on, and she hadn't even known his name. She whispered one last blessing, and laid his hands down on the soft mattress of the cot. He'd fade soon, his body shimmering out of existence, his soul taking flight. Going to the reward he had earned for his service to the Gods.

There were others that needed her attention. Her assistants couldn't attend to everything, and there were many dying that wanted the comfort her touch could give them. There was no time to mourn the man who had died, a new soldier was on the brink of fading.

This man was older, a grizzled warrior that was covered in scars. So many had tried to kill him in the past, but though they had left a lasting impression on his body, they had never succeeded in taking his life. Until now. He would not be recovering from the stomach slash that had allowed his intestines to be seen.

She sat besides him, letting him hold her hand in a white knuckle grip ever time a spasm wracked his body in further pain. Just like with the man before him, she talked, whispering prayers and blessings. The grizzled warrior had no questions for her, almost eager for the pain to stop. She couldn't blame him, not when the act of breathing itself seemed to hurt him.

His back arched just before he died, a tortured scream emerging from his lips. The sound startled everyone in the room, the cry having been one of pure misery. Even she was shaken, freeing her hand from his weakening grip. Behind her, a man carried a woman in his arms, rushing forward to take the cot so recently vacated before another of her staff could lay down one of their patients on it.

They didn't have enough beds, even with the extra cots crowding into the room. Into all the rooms, the hall of healing packed with the injured and dying. Disinfectants and medicines scented the air, and still could not completely erase the smells of blood, of sickness and infection. Nor did she have enough staff to tend to everyone at once, harsh decisions having to be made.

They were facing the worst crisis she could ever remember. In all the millennia that she had lived, never had there been so many einherjar in need of saving. Not even in the last war, had there been as many casualties as there now was occurring. And there wasn't an end in sight, the realms in chaos, the people of the world panicking.

As though to punctuate her thoughts, a violent tremor shook the floor. People stumbled where they stood, and something heavy and made of glass crashed against the floor. The tremors were getting worse, the latest in a series of earthquakes that came ever more frequently.

The earthquakes were a sign, a signal of how bad things had become for Asgard. Starting not long after Odin and the divine lance, Gungnir had gone missing, the realm was starting to come apart. Already a few of the smaller floating islands had fallen from the sky, the Gods expending as much power as they could spare to stabilize the rest of the realm. But the only true solution would be for Gungnir or another item of similar power to be used to maintain what was left of the heavens.

The Gods were searching for just that kind of item. There were only four sacred treasures, and two's whereabouts were currently unknown. That left the sacred bow of Alfheim, and the mystical sword the dragon beast Bloodbane had swallowed. The elves and fairies of Alfeim guarded their treasure zealously, and Bloodbane had made a meal of the einherjar that had approached him.

Things weren't looking good, and not just for the realm of the Gods. Midgard was in danger, the orb that ensured it's continued peace and prosperity missing. Even if it had still had the Dragon Orb, there were many Gods who would have gladly sacrificed the realm of the humans in order to save their own.

As if Asgard didn't have enough trouble, they were also under attack. The Vanir of Jotunheim thought it their chance to seize Odin's throne, though what they hoped to do with a realm that was literally quaking apart she did not know. The Aesir weren't content to let the enemy Gods gain any foothold of power in Odin's world, and thus war had broken out.

The war could be put to an end if Odin returned. But rumors abounded about what had happened to the God. What had happened to Odin and to the Valkyries. Some whispered that even now, the Valkyries were with Odin, on some secret mission to gain more power. Others spoke in frightful tones that the King of the Gods was dead, and so were his Valkyries.

She didn't know what to believe herself, and Freya wasn't talking. But the fact remained that the Valkries had not been seen in a month's time, and no new souls had been claimed to become einherjar. That was unfortunate, given how many of the einherjar were dying fighting this latest war. It wouldn't surprise her if soon they had no warriors left, and if-when that happened, Asgard would be overrun.

And not just by the Vanir! The undead were on the move, searching for their King. The vampire Lord Brahms had been missing for years, but something was stirring the undead into action. Monsters were beginning to run rampant in the realms, and the demons of Nifleheim were fighting amongst themselves. Their Queen was dead, murdered before their eyes, and no one left alive was speaking on just who had committed the crime.

It wasn't the Ragnarok that the oracles had been predicting for several millennia, but then Creation might not survive long enough to see the Twilight of the Gods.

But there was nothing she could do. She was no fighter, her power laying in healing. A power that seemed almost worthless when she couldn't even pull off the miracles needed to stop the dying from passing on. But she would do what she could, offering care and comfort to those around her.

She couldn't, wouldn't take a break. Couldn't claim a moment to herself so long as there were souls who needed her help. Not even the concern of her staff was enough to get her to leave the sick rooms, not so long as she could still do something, no matter how small, for her those in her care.

She took up position besides another's bed, taking the hand of a youth who barely looked older than fifteen. He had been an einherjar for longer than that, perhaps two hundred years spent as a bow man. It wasn't right that he die now, his weapon of choice should have kept him out of the range of most weapons. But spells and arrows were a different matter, and both had caught this boy in the chest, sending poison spikes into his system.

The poison had been cured, but too late to turn back the damage it had done to his internal organs. His body was failing him, vital parts shutting down one by one. If she were to place her fingers on his pulse, even that would be slowing.

More tremors shook the building, marble dust falling loose from the ceiling. Would her hall of healing stand for much longer? But there were too many patients to move, and not enough Gods around to help her teleport everyone to safety.

"Lady Eir!"

She looked up at the sound of her name, seeing the warrior Miress rush into the room as fast as her limp would allow. Her armor was shattered in places, and there was blood staining her exposed flesh. As captain of Eir's private guard, Miress had definitely seen better days.

"Miress, what is happening?" Eir demanded, not letting go of the archer's hand. She maintained her air of calm, though inside she was alarmed. Worried and wondering who had done this to the swords woman.

"We..." The building shook again, the earthquake sounding so much like a loud rumble of thunder. It drowned out the words Miress was saying, the swords woman shrugging off one of the healers who had rushed to her side.

"You must get to safety!" Miress was saying, the rumble of sound dying down enough for her words to be heard. "You're in danger here."

"Leave? Now?" And yet she knew Miress wouldn't suggested such a thing lightly. "Just what is going on? Who did this to you?"

The tremors sounded again, and this time when they stopped, Eir could hear the screams that followed the sound of fighting. The clash of weapons were followed by the disperse of energy, the mystical power only another God could call upon.

"WHO DARES?" Eir was not often prone to fits of anger, but in this moment she allowed herself to feel and voice it. And all because the hall of healing was a sacred place, fighting forbidden there. Everyone, and that included the Vanir, knew Eir's hall held nothing of value beyond the medicines and healers needed to tend to the sick and injured.

It wasn't just a place to be tended to, but could also be considered neutral ground. A place where friend and enemy alike could be treated without fear. She didn't know who was breaking the rules of this place, but she didn't hold them in high regard.

"You must leave!" Miress was before her, the einherjar reaching to take Eir by the arm. Trying to guide the Goddess away from the archer's bed. "It's you he's after!"

"He?" Eir questioned sharply.

"I don't know his name. But he is powerful."

A loud boom of sound, the open doorway to the room widening from the explosion of ether, making Miress words quite the understatement. Eir allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, but she wasn't going to run away. And strong though Miress was, the warrior was no match for a divine, even if the Goddess in question wasn't the equal of the likes of Freya and Thor.

Sputtering protests, and issuing pleas, Miress trailed after Eir who stalked towards the smoking ruin that was the door. The fighting was extremely close, and Eir was startled to realize the ether blast that had destroyed the doorway hadn't even been done on purpose but from an attack that had been misfired or deflected. Eir didn't know what made her more angry. That the fighting was happening, or that this fool endangered all of her staff and the sick with his antics.

"Lady Eir, I ask you one last time..." Miress was begging. "Please..."

But Eir had sighted the fighters, men and women dancing about the rubble, sometimes disappearing out of sight as the fighting lingered at the bend of the hall. Whoever was lobbing blasts of ether at them, he had yet to come around the turn, but he wouldn't be held back for much longer.

Squaring her shoulders, Eir marched forward. Miress trailed after her, Eir realizing the warrior didn't even have a sword with her. It must have been lost when the attack had begun. Miress was lucky she hadn't lost her arm along with her sword, and Eir wondered just what the extent of her injuries were. But there would be time later to find out, or at least that is what Eir hoped.

The fighters had caught sight of Eir and Miress, shock on their face, along with true fear for the Goddess' well being. It might have made Eir turn back, but she was letting her anger fuel her. She continued her stride forward, eyes locked onto the figure of a man, a God she had never seen before, sparkling gold ether orbs in each of his hands.

With careful precision, he cast them out, the orbs avoiding Eir completely. Her long blonde hair blew out from behind her, stirred up by the windy passage of the orbs. The einherjar of her private guard cried out, moving to avoid the orbs. She kept enough faith in their abilities to not be killed by this latest round of blasts, tried not to focus on the fact that the warrior Eulia was missing from the scene.

Instead, her face a mask that could barely hide her anger, she strode over to the God. He locked eyes with her blue ones, his lips twisting into a pleased smile. He actually began to speak to her, but before he could do more than say her name, her hand was airborne. Calling upon energies she didn't often use, Eir powered her slap with destructive ether. She didn't for one instant believe the slap would tear off the God's face, or knock some sense into him. It was nothing more than a manifestation or her own rage and disappointment, Eir wanting to let the God know just how upset she was with him.

All sound seemed to die in the hall, her einherjar standing frozen in shock. In all the years they had guarded Eir, they had never seen the Goddess lift her hand in violence. Even the God was stunned, his glasses knocked off his face.

"Just who do you think you are?" EIr was shaking, not from fear, but from indignation and anger.

The brown haired God blinked his eyes slowly, before speaking. "Lezard Valeth." The name meant nothing to her, but the words that followed almost cooled her anger. "I am the inheritor of your fool King's power."

She knew then the rumors about Odin were true, the King of Gods dead. But she couldn't focus on that in the moment, standing proud and tall as she all but glared at this Lezard. "This is a sacred place!" She snapped. "Neutral land, a place for the sick and injured to rest without fear. There is NOTHING for you here!"

"There is YOU."

EIr hadn't wanted to believe Miress when the einherjar had said she was in danger. But now? Hearing this God admit that Eir was what he was after? She almost regretted not leaving.

His hand reached for her arm, and a second later an arrow barreled into his shoulder. This Lezard didn't even cry out in pain, ignoring the arrow but not the archer who had sent it flying.

"No!" cried Eir, as ether torpedoed in the direction of Vlad.

"You are to come with me." A weak groan followed the explosion, Vlad letting them know he was still alive.

"What business do you have with Lady Eir?" demanded Miress. It was a good question, Eir knowing she wasn't good enough for anything other then healing. She wasn't even in high standing in the pantheon of Gods, being considered too weak and too lacking in riches to matter much at all.

"I do not answer to the likes of you." sneered Lezard.

"You will answer to ME." Eir told him. Lezard narrowed his eyes at her, but Eir refused to be intimidated.

"There is...someone in need of your help." It was clear he was speaking with great reluctance, every word grating out through clenched teeth.

"Then you should have brought them here, instead of barreling in balls blazing!" snapped Miress. Eir winced at Miress' choice of words, though she did agree with what the warrior had said.

"There are reasons why I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Eir demanded, but the look on his face said he wouldn't answer that question.

An earthquake began shaking the building, Lezard once again reaching for Eir's arm. She stepped back out of reach, watching as the anger flashed in his oddly colored eyes.

"Haven't you sworn an oath?" Lezard demanded. "Haven't you promised to aid all who need you? To never turn your back on the wounded?"

Eir hesitated, the truth of his words stabbing into her like daggers. She had promised, Eir never wanting anyone to suffer if there was something she could do about it.

"Hmph. I should have known that was all lies." He scoffed then. "You are like all the other Gods...caring only for yourself."

"That's not true!" Eir snapped at him.

"Then where were you when she was suffering?"!

"SHE?" Eir asked sharply.

"Lenneth Valkyrie."

She felt weak at the name he had said, Eir sure her face had paled of it's color. "She, Lenneth, is the one you want me to help?"

The earthquakes were coming faster, and were stronger in power. Even Lezard and Eir had a difficult time remaining standing during them.

Holding her gaze, Lezard nodded.

"I don't know if I can."

"Don't know, or don't want to?" Lezard demanded. She felt as though he had hit her, Eir shocked by what he was implying. "Tell me Goddess, where were you when Lenneth was being raped and beaten? Why did you not lift a hand to help her then, to end her torment? Or did you not care?"

"I..."

"I was wrong to come here. Stupid to think you would help her." Lezard was already dismissing her, moving to teleport away.

"I cared!" Eir called out, her tone frantic, almost desperate. "I cared more than you can imagine! But what good could I do when I lacked the power to save her?"

Lezard had paused, though he wasn't saying anything.

"As a woman, do you think I liked standing around while Lenneth was tortured and abused, passed around like nothing more than a possession to be used?" Eir shook her head. "I HATED it. But there was nothing I could do. Odin would have swatted me down like a bug if I had tried!"

"Then make up for your inaction and help her now!" Lezard shouted over the sounds of the earthquake.

Eir closed her eyes. "Yes."

"Lady Eir, no!" Miress and the other einherjar were protesting, even as Lezard let out a victorious hiss. But she wouldn't let him touch her, Eir opening her eyes.

"I have a condition."

"Of course." He said it so bitterly, she almost regretted asking him to pay her price.

"I can't just leave the people here."

"You have a staff of healers do you not?" Lezard asked.

"I will not abandon my staff, or the people that rely on us all." Eir told him. "This island is not long for this world...you can sense it, can't you? The earthquakes growing stronger. It won't be long before it falls, taking the building and the people with it. Before that happens, I want you to help me save everyone here. To move them to a safer location." Her chin raised, her eyes holding a stubborn light. "Those are my conditions."

Was it the stubborn look she gave him that let Lezard know how serious Eir was about this? He let out a put upon sigh, his own eyes angry. "Fine. I will do this, but only because you will help Lenneth."

"I will try." Eir said, wanting him to understand he might be hoping for a miracle no one could grant.

"You WILL succeed." He insisted, his tone and look ominous. "Or else!" Lezard didn't have to clarify what the or else meant, Eir's mind creative enough to guess at the kind of punishment this new God would deal out. It made Eir shiver, even as she was grateful for the chance to save everyone currently inside the hall of healing. Eir tried not to let doubts fill her, that made her think she had just made a deal with the devil himself.

Damn this chapter became one that did not want to end! I want to thank my friend TenJP. Valkyrie Profile is not her usual universe (She is a Voltron lady true and true!), but she gave Spoils a chance. And then asked me about what if Lezard could get some kind of healer for Lenneth. That promptly sent my mind reeling with the possibilities, and thus the element of Eir as therapist to Lenneth came about. And now my friend is asking about the possibility of Eir getting a love interest too! XD

For the life of me, I could not remember what the bow and sword were called. And I was too lazy to skim through Lezard's Triumph which I know I had Lezard collecting all four treasures in it...My friend Huntress wasn't one hundred percent sure, but she thought it might be the Sylvan Bow, and the demon sword Levantine...but since neither one of us remember for sure, I wrote the mentions of it in a way that I didn't have to write the names in.

Now I am imagining next chapter is a Lezard POV...though I also think maybe it should be a Lenneth POV...so I got some things to figure out about which POV I should do it as...there's things I want to show from both their views...X_X

-Michelle

Moi Fah, hello! And welcome back! It's fine, we all tend to disapear from time to time. Life gets in the way, that sort of thing. Good to see you back though! I giggle, cause yes it is such torture for Lezard! XD But then I sober up when I think it's a torture of a different kind for Lenneth. *face palm*

Ah...the only two characters to play off of, that they're so isolated tends to be what trips me up with this pairing. Plus add to the fact the games didn't give us much Lezard Lenneth time together moments...so it's hard. I mean in my other fandom, even though Lotor and Allura didn't have that much time together (But more than LezaLenne) they had stuff happening because of their actions, they heard or knew what the other was doing. So then when it comes time to throw them together in a scenario, I can always have the cannon happenings help them along. Of course, now I feel like I'm bungling up my explanation of this something awful. Suffice it to say, some of my early Voltron fics, I had them say to each other things that happened in the show which was a direct result of their actions. That sort of thing. It was good for when I didn't know what kind of conversations to have them have.

I've been meaning to reread Stolen, and see if I can't get unstuck. Problem is...and I wrote a little about it in my updated bio for this site...Stolen was started back when I was...well feeling stressed/pressured to write lighter stuff. To write happier Lezard Lenneth stuff. My original idea for Stolen was going to be a darker fic...but I let my anxiety over how others were perceiving my writings stop me from it. But a while back I took a "The hell with it, screw them" attitude. The attitude that I'm gonna write what I want, and if they don't like it, fuck 'em.

So I've been thinking I might do Stolen over again with it's orignal intent. Not one hundred percent sure on that though. I thought I might do both...the Stolen that you've read, with it's more light hearted take, and then do the dark fic version. But we will see. Let's just say if I hadn't taken the "Screw them" attitude, stories like Inescapable and Spoils of the Heart would not be on this site. I would have worried too much about the negative reactions.

I don't think you were slow in not realizing just who he was planning to kidnap. Hopefully you liked the Eir POV. Plus her POV this chapter, let me fill in the readers on what is happening in the world outside of Lezard's closed realm. :)

Ruvian, Lezard mentioned to Lenneth in chapter two that he killed them. So Brahms, Silmeria, Hrist, Arngrim, Rufus, and Alicia are dead, dead, dead. And no, the other two Valkyries weren't treated the way Lenneth was. She was considered a special creation of Odin's, a special weapon and punching bag. =/

I write fast enough. Considering I do this in my free time, and don't get paid for it, updates will continue to be slow.