Snow fell in heaps on the ground, adding to the depressive atmosphere of Castle Helvita. Inside his quarters, a single candle illuminated the inky darkness of the room. Demestriu sat near his study table, a decanter in hand, pondering. It was always snowing in Helvita, and it wasn't good for his mental health. Years of drinking straight from the source and devouring the memories of his victims were slowly taking its toll on him.
Not that he cared. He was the Horde King, and he couldn't afford to show his subordinates any weakness. Weakness was the reason why his brother was dead. And if he wasn't careful, it would kill him as well.
Perhaps he was getting old, if that was plausible.
Loreans had a very long lifespan, often reaching thousands of years. Some, hundreds. Some, never, because he had them killed.
His finger tapped the smooth mahogany table, the only sound reverberating the room.
Perhaps he should have killed her then, he thought absentmindedly. He could never answer why he hadn't snapped her neck that moment and chose to free her instead.
Compared to the other female Loreans he had seen in his lifetime, she wasn't that extraordinarily beautiful. Beautiful, yes. But not his type.
What was that black-haired Valkyrie's name again?
Ah, yes.
Helen.
Helen, Helen, Helen.
Yes, he should have killed her then, so that she wouldn't plague his thoughts, just like now. As of late, he found himself thinking of her, an idea he found revolting.
It could only be madness, he rationalized.
She was just a Valkyrie, a Lorean he wanted to kill for interfering with his plans. But why was she occupying his thoughts?
Perhaps her blood was drugged. Didn't he have a taste of it during their fight in the Garden? Although it was delicious, it was nothing special. Or perhaps, she had collaborated with those Witches and enchanted him.
No, how preposterous. What utter madness she made him think!
Cack. Cack.
"Who is it?" Demestriu said aloud, without glancing at the door.
"It's me, Uncle. I have reports from the spies."
"Trace."
Lothaire traced into his lair, bowing his head.
His nephew was his late brother's bastard son with Ivana, a vampire from the Realm of Blood and Mist. If Ivana had blooded his brother, then Lothaire would have been the legitimate heir to the Horde Throne. But he wasn't. Ivana wasn't his brother's Bride, and Lothaire had been born illegitimate. It was too bad. He liked his nephew, and the boy had so much potential. Even if he was of royal blood, the vampires would never recognize a Bastard King.
"What are the reports?"
"The Valkyrie hardly leaves and goes anywhere without her sisters."
"She's till vampire-killing with her sisters?" Demestriu asked.
Lothaire nodded.
Ah, one more reason to hate her. He massaged his throbbing temples. What a pain that Valkyrie was.
"You don't look well, uncle."
His nephew was perceptive. Too perceptive.
"That Valkyrie has hardly left my mind. I wonder if she has collaborated with some Witches to enchant me."
"Now why would a Valkyrie collaborate with those witches?"
"Good point."
He knew Valkyries operated on their own, and rarely collaborated with other Lorean species. It was impossible for them to form other alliances, unless they benefitted from it.
"Why this fascination with her?" Lothaire asked.
"She intrigues me when I should have killed her in the first place."
Lothaire kept his silence, until a thought filled his mind. "Could it be that…"
"What?"
His nephew shook his head. "Just a silly thought."
"Speak, or I shall have your heart staked and have you crucified until sunrise."
Lothair hardly blinked. "The Valkyrie could be your Bride."
The glass decanter in Demestriu's hand shattered into fine pieces.
Lothaire retreated, keeping his head lowered. "It's merely a speculation, uncle. Besides, how could your Bride be of their ilk?"
The Vampire Bride, every living vampire's dream of meeting and finding. Once a vampire had frozen into immortality, the heart would stop beating, and he would truly become the undead. Of course, if the vampire was fortunate enough to meet and be blooded by his Bride, his heart would beat again, and he would become stronger than the average vampire.
A Bride was a gift from the Gods, and Demestriu had long accepted that his destined Bride, whoever she was, was not of their kind. Many years ago, female vampires had died due to a mysterious plague, and the only female vampire he had met was Ivana. But she too, had perished because of his brother's doing.
He stood up, not caring that his hand bled, not caring as the glass fragments crunched under his boots. His bride, a Valkyrie? What cruel joke did the Gods decide to play on him? Of all the Lorean creatures, it had to be their ilk…
There was only one way to find out.
He turned around, facing his nephew. "Come. It looks like we'll see whether your speculation is correct or not."
The Valkyries lived in a large three-story manor sitting on a three-acre lot just by the outskirts of New York. Not that they hated the city life. They loved roaming the vast lands of the New World. Plus, if they lived in the city, their ear-shattering shrieks would annoy their neighbors. Better the outskirts than revealing their identities as Loreans.
The people would never suspect their true identities, of course. The Valkyries kept their distinguishing features hidden, their pointed ears tucked behind their hair. Their tipped claws covered in soft gloves, and their fangs… well, never mind.
That was how Helen and her sisters hid their identities as they roamed and killed leeches in the New World. However, after her altercation with the Horde King, she found herself less enthusiastic about killing them, opting to stay and supervise the chores in the Manor instead.
Her sisters had wondered and pestered, and in the end gave up. Phenix, one of her closest sisters, if not the closest, simply gave her an all-knowing smile. Nothing would ever escape that soothsayer's awareness. She wasn't surprised if Phenix knew about her encounter with the vampire king.
As she folded the linens, she felt another presence enter the laundry room.
"The linens smell great! Do I smell lavender?"
"What are you doing here, Annika?" Helen asked.
Annika approached her, taking the fresh pile of lines Helen had folded and set it in a basket "I wonder why Nix asked you to stay and guard our Manor instead of joining us in our Hunt."
Helen grinned. "She has reasons."
"Reasons which I don't approve."
"Don't worry."
"It's just that, you'll be all alone here."
"It's not bad." She assured her. "I can always manage."
"Helen…" Annika's voice drifted. "Ever since you went to that Boston theatre, you've changed."
Startled, Helen shook her head. "It's nothing, really."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Just… enjoy hunting leeches, and I'll enjoy-"
"-folding the linens?"
They looked at one another before bursting into laughter. "Why don't I help you?" Annika offered.
"You're about to leave in fifteen minutes."
Annika sighed. "You don't have to remind me. Oh, take care of yourself. Oh, wait. Why am I saying this? It's not as if we won't see each other 'll just be gone in a day or two."
Helen laughed. "It's not as if I'll disappear."
Once her sisters had disappeared, Helen took her time to check the manor's protective seals. As long as the seals were in place, no one could breach the manor's defenses. Confident that they were intact, she then occupied herself with household chores. They could have afforded to hire maids, but that would blow their covers.
And besides, they were Valkyries. Those humans would freak at the sight of their tipped claws, tipped ears, and tiny fangs.
As she went through the chores, thoughts of the Horde King strayed into her mind once more. It disturbed her that she often thought of him, when she shouldn't be.
No one had escaped the Horde King's clutches to live and tell the tale, but she did, lucky bitch that she was.
Except that she couldn't tell the tale.
The Gods had favored her again, it was more than enough to cherish her second life.
The day flew by and the sun had set, covering the land with darkness. Only the brilliance of the moon and stars provided the light for the land.
Helen lit the candles inside the manor, ensuring that every nook and cranny was well-illuminated with ample light. The manor was so different without her sisters, filling the halls with their shrieks and jeers.
She retired to her quarters, changed and sat on her vanity chair. What could she do to pass time? Well, she could always brush her long and flowing hair, couldn't she? Helen was about to brush her hair when her eyes fell on the window. Strange, she couldn't recall leaving the window open. Helen put the brush aside and closed the window panes.
What was she so edgy about? She was about to return to her vanity chair and froze at the sight before her.
No. It couldn't be.
"How did you get inside?" she asked with a voice full of steel.
The elegant figure sitting on her chair crossed his legs and flashed her a slow lazy smile. He was holding her brush in his hand, caressing the brush as if it was something soft and precious.
"Why Valkyrie, is that the proper way to greet a king?"
She could only feel and hear her heart pounding. She was alone with this vampire in her room.
How could he have broken through the protective spells around the manor? It was definitely intact.
She reached for her weapon but he quickly traced in front of her and grabbed her arm.
Helen cried and clawed at him instead.
"Feisty, aren't you?"
Helen managed to wiggle the arm free and punched him in the abdomen. She bolted for the window, but another figure materialized in front of her.
It was the fucking lordling leech Phenix asked her to spare a thousand years ago. Good Heavens. She should have killed him instead of listening to her sister.
"This isn't a fair fight." She breathed, assessing her surroundings. She was trapped… she just needed to find an opening and distract one of them. Damn vampires for their tracing ability.
Just as she was about to make her move, Lothaire slipped a hand in his pocket and retrieved an object, placing it right in front of her.
Helen froze.
For the love of Freya.
It was the bane of every breathing and living Valkyrie of the Lore.
Egg-shaped and encrusted with diamonds, the object shone and sparkled, reflecting the light of the moonlight.
It was so beautiful that she could hardly breathe, momentarily forgetting the two vampires in her room. In that moment, there was only her, and the egg-diamond, whatever it was called. She wanted to touch and caress it, to feel its coolness against her palm. If the Sorceri worshipped Gold, then the Valkyrie worshipped anything that glittered.
Anything that glitters is life.
And it proved to be her downfall.
The Horde King pinned her to the grown, and the spell was broken. "Damn you." She hissed for exploiting her kind's weakness. "Go ahead and snap my head. Do it quick."
Demestriu's lips curled sardonically, and she wanted to claw his face. "Why should I?"
"I almost killed you."
"Good point." He exhaled. "But tell me, what good reason should I have to kill my own Bride? Tell me, and I might just do that."
Helen tried to register his last statement. Bride? A vampire's bride, her?
"What did you just say?"
AN: Hello there! Just wanted to tell you that this story was screaming for me to be finished. I'm fortunate enough that the ideas for how this story will flow came to me in a rush, and my only job was to transcribe it by hand. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
