Lenneth recovered quickly, stiffening into a defensive position, allowing stoic silence to settle between them. Lezard dearly wished his sneak attack, getting the drop on Lenneth would have incited her anger enough to get her to speak. No matter the time period, the reaction of anger seemed to be the only kind of emotion that he could elicit but he would have gladly weathered it for the sound of her voice even laced with scorn.

The last time they'd met she'd spoken to him thusly but Lezard had still indulged in getting condemnation from her, willing to take Lenneth or her attention any way he remotely could but he ever wanted more. Lezard could never get enough of her. When he had first spied her, seen her within the glassy veiled depths of the Philosopher's Stone that sight had been enough but over time it grew to be an empty pleasure at most. It had led to insane means exercised all in order to possess her. It had not been enough, one right could not possibly cancel or make her overlook all the wrongs he committed thus why he was here now, for a second chance, to impress her in the past in the way he couldn't in his time, their joint future.

For once Lezard had been taken off guard, unprepared. He had been expecting Hrist but despite that fact he was pleased, ever so pleased to see her. Initially he had designed a spell for the likes of Hrist, a spell devised to get the Dark Valkyrie as good as she would undoubtedly give in challenge to the like of one like himself. Then he had seen it was Lenneth, his tactics changed, what would have killed an Einherjar and made Hrist suffer instead became a spell that could only be called a minor irritant at best, barely ineffectual if it could be called even that.

The goddess surveyed him for his next move but it merely amused him, he was arrogantly delighted by her eyes upon him even burning as they were. By now he had dropped the expectation that she'd speak to him so it was a surprise when she spoke suddenly, "My name, how do you know it?"

Lenneth's tone of voice said nothing of her unease, the tone was firm, unwilling to give to Lezard anything upon which he could learn something further about her or come to sense something useful he could seize upon to use against her. Lezard again pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, a pleased smile curving at his lips but he dampened even that small victory, the one of hearing her voice, so Lenneth wouldn't believe he was mocking her, "A funny thing that is…even for the divine…there is plenty, a multitude of ways for others to learn things out about you whether you want them to or not."

"The likes of my name is nothing you could learn upon a common street or in the secluded corner of a tavern after dark," a curl of her lips, tone openly disdainful told Lezard she thought he could be either from the lower class or a drunk. Lezard knew he was neither so he didn't take offense from her comment or the assumptions. Frankly, he never expected the Lenneth would tolerate a drunk and she certainly was lovely enough to make even the most drunk consider going 'cold' – instantly dropping a long-lasting habit for a chance with her. If that was the LEAST of his problems he certainly would. Her eyes said different from her voice however, her voice held a tone of disdain; her eyes were veiling a look that had, upon first sight, able to be mistaken as appraising? Now NO remnants of such remained, it was as if she'd never shown it, never shown herself to be anything less than hard and implacable. Receiving no answer was not likely to improve Lenneth's mood and talking with her might very well distract her. Spending any amount of time with Lenneth would be time well spent as long as he came out of it alive. A wry smile came to his lips as he realized that could be made a reality if he wasn't careful around her.

"Are you so eager to meet your death that you meet it with a smile?"

"If you are death than yes.'

"I am Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain and you may call me such, nothing MORE or LESS!"

"A shame, I preferred a first name basis."

It was a mistake to gaze directly into his eyes as Renata momentarily lost herself in the deep expansive crimson depths. Her chest rising and falling in deep breaths as she recovered from the kiss, her mind momentarily dazed by her breathlessness. His scrutiny was unnerving and she bit her lip in an uncharacteristic sign of social anxiety only to feel a strange damp bead accompany the soft tone of copper. In an instant the spell was broken, his eyes immediately riveted by the sight of her blood and Renata remembering just WHAT he was. Her body corded with tension as she attempted to fight him, to pull free but her struggles only made his arms curl more tightly around her, binding her arms to her sides as her chest heaved with her efforts, making her breasts press against his muscles, her body molding almost perfectly against him. The physical synergy between them only made her more desperate and to her detriment she made the mistake of ignoring him even as he brought his lips down upon hers.

This time his kiss was less ruthless and more sensual but not that it was any less effective, his tongue sweeping against the trail of her blood and then drawing her lip against his as he senusually suckled it. The brief spike of pain accompanied that tender sweetness as she realized he'd done it on purpose, he'd NICKED her with his fangs and even now availed himself of her blood. Renata again struggled but each and every movement seemed fruitless as his body was completely unmoving. Already she felt herself tiring, her muscles wracked with tiredness after fleeing, after fighting her way to safety while he remained unmoving as he smiled down at her as if asking 'are you finished?

Renata's flinty azure gaze flared defiantly and his lips sighed almost audibly against hers as though pushed to an extreme that he didn't want to fall back upon. The vampire abruptly pinning one arm against his muscled bulk while his clawed grip curled around her other arm, twisting it behind her back with enough force that her breath caught in sharp intake. Renata could not seem to keep track of him, his movements too inhumanely swift and her disadvantage too great, a disparity that grew with each passing moment as his free hand gently but forcefully gripped her pale gold tresses and pulled down with a sharp yank, the spike of pain drawing a sharp gasp of pain while baring the expanse of her neckline. Too late, she was TOO slow even as his fangs sharply pierced into the column of her throat turning her pain into pleasure. Renata again attempted to fight, to strike but his fangs merely tightened their chokehold on her slender throat, the vice-like grip of his bite forcing her to yield, to surrender mere moments before she lost herself to his first pulls and melted against him replete of strength amidst pleasure. Her strength abandoning her in her moment of need even as he grew stronger FOR her weakness, this conflict had been decided before it started, she had merely been too stubborn to see or accept it.

Alicia could never quite get used to the chaos of the battlefield neither in her time as a host to Silmeria, an Einherjar to Hrist, OR during her time with Rufus, Lezard, and Brahms. Alicia could never forgive the Gods for what they'd done but neither had all of them been wholly indifferent, wholly cruel. Alicia didn't share Brahms vendetta or begin to understand Lezard's motivations but she understood the wrongs done to Rufus, to Silmeria, to Dipan and her people. With so many impacted by the Gods it was impossible NOT to be enmeshed in this conflict but still she couldn't get comfortable. Many of these they warred against didn't know any better, didn't know any alternative except to obey and serve blindly so she resolved to lead, to temper and guide the efforts of the vampires in such a way that she might keep them on track, to minimize damage and protect the innocent while serving the greater good but not ALL agreed with her in this aim.

The Vampires for one, in Brahms absence his dame, the venerable Lady Almedha was in charge of the vanguard. At present Alicia was tuning her out as Almedha was intuitive and astute but prone to brutal efficiency. In Alicia's mind you didn't need to look far to realize where Brahms had gotten his 'rough edges' though in truth Alicia thought Brahms more controlled, more honorable than his progenitress leading her to believe that perhaps Silmeria's soothing hold on him was substantial even in her absence.

"...we should use the opportunity to place spies in Crell Monferaigne, sleepers. We won't get an opportunity like this for a while. Our conflict is eternal, without end in sight, there is no harm in being prepared for better OR worse. See it done."

Alicia couldn't suppress a sigh as she wondered what she was doing here, what purpose she was serving. They would be fighting throughout the night, until they were forced to flee at dawn but here she was idling at Almedha's insistence, the vampiress claiming that those who were independent of daylight's dogma were best utilized upon the retreat. In theory it was sound but she hated staying safe even as everyone else risked themselves.

I don't want to fight but I refuse to be useless.

Alicia didn't see how she was benefitting ANYONE as she was currently and grabbed her blade as she left. No one even seemed to notice her departure as she strode towards the battlefield, at the very least she could ensure the safety of her own 'remnants', her rebels.

The mage was troublesome, good enough she couldn't just kill him off but she almost hardly dared to believe and refused to acknowledge that he was PLAYING with her!

However there was NO mistaking the thought as he danced, more like PRANCED, around her smirking and smiling as if NOTHING delighted him more than seeing her snarl which she did as she swiped at him. Her blade collided with a pale azure figure of ice, her blade sliced through his magic but in the ensuing time frame the mage had up and vanished again, forcing her to turn, to find him. Many times she had thought to simply withdraw, leaving this mad magician to his deranged talent for trouble only finding him seeking her, engaging her in battle again and again and again.

He was mortal, how could he even BEGIN to compare with her power but by no means was he putting forth all his best efforts to bring her down. Maybe that much had been genuine; his desire of her but it would be his undoing. The Valkyries were a thing of battlefield beauty but they were meant to be feared as much as they were admired. The way the mage looked at her was downright insulting, infuriating. Lenneth had to urge to teach him a lesson, one that she should have been above feeling and acting upon.

The truth of the matter was she had no choice, she HAD to get through him, he was obviously trying to draw her into this confrontation. Every time she tried to sidestep confronting him he got in the way, drew her attention. It was beyond him being pestilential; he was not a minor distraction but a major one, one that she had to quell before she could go on. Failure was NOT an option, Odin had made it clear that Renata was to be recovered whatever the cost, that others would attempt to pursue and claim her. Clearly this mage was one of those who acted not only to keep her from her goal but to buy others time. It would be less infuriating if he weren't so successful.

AGAIN her eyes darted, searching as she gazed at the clearing; the buildings were unremarkable, made to last but not against the fury of an immortal goddess. Furiously she sliced a lantern clean in two even as she cautiously looked around. Did she DARE to hope that he'd pulled away and moved on? It had been a foolish indulgence at best, a massive sigil flaring to life and covering an immense section of the Holy City. Lenneth didn't have time to think save to run, her feet propelling her as she sought to escape the radius while attempting to vault upward. If he DIED then he couldn't complete the spell, she could save many, MANY more than simply herself.

Such a spell took time, took preparation, how had she'd MISSED magic of this magnitude? The ONLY benefit is that igniting the magic took time but did she have enough time to stop him? Lenneth leapt, charging at the mage but he avoided her, dancing out of reach of arm or blade, her blade meeting at the foundation. By that time the mage had warped and recovered enough to send a spell her way - a lance of flame, another pitiful one not truly capable of doing any great measure of damage to her person. At the last minute she dodged but it allowed him to further his own aim. The sigil well defined as his ether bled into the magick.

Lenneth Valkyrie used the buildings as leverage, ever rising even as she cursed that these human constructs that kept her from making easy use of her wings. So intent was she on putting the mage down that she didn't notice a second greater magic spawned upon the heels of his first.

'If you seek respite from your empty existence, you shalt have it, Lady Valkyrie….' it was ALL the warning she got as bolt after bolt of arcane light slammed down from above, these bolts materialized from seeming nothingness. Some she avoided but it was impossible to avoid them all. The result being that she fell back upon the ground even as he finished his spell. The result was cataclysmic to her psyche, the rebound of SO MANY souls reverberating across her consciousness was alarming and crippling as hundreds of souls were lost in ONE instant which is nothing compared to the chaos of rubble and ruin around them killing many, MANY more, "Did you like that, Lady Valkyrie?"

Lenneth survived by her right as a Goddess but it was with effort and using her blade that she rose and was ALARMED to see the Mage nearly within reach, right in front of her. It was a shame she was still throwing off the throes of spiritual agony surrounding them when she hissed, "WHO are you?!"

"Lezard Valeth, Lady Valkyrie," if she didn't CARE about his identity before she did now, his amethyst eyes burned with admiration even as she recovered and she felt a slight brush against her cheek as he took a thick lock of hair that had fallen from her braid. That was TOO MUCH, she leap forward her blade slipping free of the ground and swiping in an arc between them. Lezard was gone but materialized several feet away with only a tear in his cloak but he smirked as if supremely pleased and that is when she saw his fingers were curled possessively around a pale azure lock of hair, HER hair, cleaved by her own blade and so carelessly stolen from her.

Lenneth lunged forward again but her blade sliced through empty air, the mage vanishing with his stolen prize and a smirking smile as he laughed in delight. Again, attuned through her spiritual concentration to worthy souls, the last thoughts of the dying woman, the dying Queen of Crell Monferaigne plagued her. In truth, Lenneth wanted to turn, to meet the threat of the Undead but she forced herself to sheath her blade as her angelic wings surfaced, extending to capture the wind securely as she rose higher, knowing where to go to collect Evadne, she simply hoped she was not too late for the one she came for, for Renata.

It might've been a mistake, a violation, wrong but Brahms could not resist the impulse, nearly as caught up in the moment as much as she was from the first pull on her vein, the first flutter of her delicate pulse beneath his lips. Initially when he felt the resistance in her body, the tension in her muscles he'd known have naught from her but a struggle and it was one he could ill afford, there was too much on the line. Lezard fought to delay the Valkyrie even as his populace, his people fought to exact as much personal pain and vengeance upon the hated followers of the Divine but they were deluding themselves if they didn't calculate that their vengeance would come with a cost, a cost that he would bear the blame for as their leader. How many Primes and Elders would be lost by dawn? In one night of fighting? For immortals time was NOT on their side in this regard. To say nothing about his haste to retreat with a recalcitrant Renata. Survival took priority for both his people AND Silmeria which meant NO delays not even from HER.

The warm rush of blood was a heady delight and one it took him time to wean himself from. To the Divines and mortals alike the appetite and fare of choice for the Undead was depraved, a crime against nature but only the Undead vampires had the highly developed tastes capable of discerning flavor. Renata's blood was spicy-sweet, sensual and addicting and not unlike his first time with Silmeria. WIth regret Brahms recalled his first feeding, of Silmeria captive and his thirst surging forward to overtake him, regretting the fact his first feeding with her had ALSO been against her will, a product of necessity and manipulation. Now as a matured vampire, an Elder, it wasn't so much 'need' as a matter of want, he desired her but this was the only way he could have her. However he possessed enough awareness that he shielded and refrained from suffusing himself in the torrent of her emotion and memories that accompanied his selfish indulgence. Brahms knew he was already committing ONE form of violation and couldn't bring himself to do another, his mouth tightening as he imagined her hatred, her rebuke, her infuriated response if she knew he could so easily breach her mind.

If only your heart were so easy…

That tight pressure upon the column of her throat further imposed his sheer physical will upon her, her body weakening with each pull until she finally surrendered fully. Her legs melting as her form sank into his embrace, a soft languid sigh sounding as her body gave one last tremor before his mind rolled hers under soothing her into the stupor of sleep. Brahms swept her legs up and effortlessly he carried her slight form in his arms

It would be no simple task to woo this tempestuous virago, even MORE daunting was the task of teaching her WHO she had been and not just to him alone. Silmeria had been the first to see and accept the truth, to seek knowledge that was forbidden, to cross the lines that had never been crossed, and willing to fight for what is right rather than what was popular. Silmeria had been a radiant, chaotic soul on the 'wrong side of history' not because she was a 'rogue' Valkyrie that had been 'tainted by the undead' but because she had been a vessel of change ever in service to the greater good even if that meant breaking the laws governing the universe.

Brahms had loved her for it and nothing broke his heart more than to see her living her life as she did currently, as a mere 'shade' of her former self. How Odin must've laughed and smiled and preened to see this girl growing up bowing and scraping amongst the lesser races, a mere mortal slip of a girl who gave her every last breath and very being to worshiping him. The mere thought was enough to make him snarl, his lips peeling away to reveal his fangs - Odin had had his 'games' and played with SIlmeria like a doll but now retribution was at hand, at long last and once Brahms was done it wasn't going to be to Odin's liking.

The massive doors shifted with a groan as a barrage of battering echoed and finally culminated in a decisive clap like thunder even as Brahms felt the vibration of the colossal behemoths shifting under the weight over over a dozen men. Brahms tucked Renata's frame securely against him, his bulk enough to shield her in totality as some charged and others nocked arrows in their bows. Brahms knew enough to know that he was alone and still could place these men in their graves, bathe himself in a torrent of their bloodied remains but also that these men would died heroically against the Vampire King, be recruited by the Valkyrie, and even one day nurse a vicious grudge. If being Immortal had taught him one thing it was to choose your actions and enemies carefully, tactfully, and with intent. Brahms had nothing against these men and didn't have a care about ANY of them unless they got in his way.

The wind whistled as the archers released their rain of arrows and Brahms danced deftly, avoiding each save ONE which nearly hit Renata and would have IF he hadn't put up his arm to guard her, the arrow piercing his forearm and drawing a sharp hiss, the arrow searing as corrosive burns rippled out from the entry wound. No doubt they'd been blessed, dipped in Holy Water, enough to leave a wound that would fester if not removed swiftly. Brahms crimsons eyes narrowed maliciously on the archers, the perpetrator was easy to single out, smug and self-satisfied mere moments before Brahms furious gaze locked on his, ripping the male's free will with ridiculous ease. The archer dropped his bow and started striding forward as entranced, his allies wasting a moment on his bizarre actions even as Brahms tore through the window, glass shattering as he safeguarded Renata, stealing away with his prize into the night as he left the Archer to follow him to his death for daring to threaten Silmeria, HIS Silmeria.

Zadkiel had known something was amiss from the moment he'd seen the 'fell' sigil awakening beneath their very feet, portenting ominously of the destruction yet to come. Zadkiel's instincts, fine tuned as they were towards survival, fueled his impulse to withdraw his forces from the field but the King, to his stubborn detriment, REFUSED to even consider what he thought a retreat. In truth, the King was NOT considered the wisest or just of rulers which he resulted in years if not DECADES of plots to overthrow and replace him FIRST with his younger brother, Aedan and then with Renata. Aedan's death had been an unfortunate loss, LONG attributed to the Undead but many suspected their irrational ruler had known of his brother's popularity and their plots. Following the death of the Crown Prince their King had been prone to paranoia and under the guise of 'protecting' Renata had ordered that she be raised in the capital city under his ever-watchful gaze.

More like protecting HIMSELF…

Zadkiel thought bitterly that it was the SOLE reason Renata had garnered any interest OR support following the death of her parents, the King having ZERO interest in his niece save what she could do for him. Whispers were even abound that the King was sterile as he'd NEVER produced any 'child of the blood' which left Renata as the only heiress to the throne, the only way to continue his royal line. This fact had only made the King despise her more, a feat as he barely concealed his distaste or disregard for her. If the King had been smart he would've realized that loving her would have endeared her eternally to her 'surrogate' parent but his distant estrangement between them only sowed discord as many believed Renata should rule once she had come of age. Only the fear for her 'well-being' and Renata's respect of her King's 'right to rule' had kept many an impulse in check; half out of fear that the young Crown Princess would meet a fate similar to that of her beloved deceased Father.

Never before had he'd been more privy to their ruler's outright disaffection for his own blood. Even now he stripped her of his elite protection, a mandate that he'd NEVER failed to fulfill, choosing instead to entrust her safety and that of his despised wife to a multitude of common soldiers. I had been for that reason he'd summoned Ragne, his half-brother. Secretly Ragne lived on the fringes of Zadkiel's life, acknowledged publicly as a scholar of import but in truth he was magus of considerable skill and ambition. Many hadn't even known he had a brother as Ragne was buried, a societal pariah, the 'dishonorable fruit' of his mother's 'rape' in Flenceburg. Only Zadkiel knew the truth, that his noble mother had despised her noble spouse and Ragne was the result of her 'freedom' upon his death.

Though leery of Ragne's magical prestige he wasn't above making use of his skill believing it was not an ability but rather how you utilize an ability that decided its intent and whether it was evil or not. Outwardly Ragne was considered to be an 'healer' in service to Eir but Zadkiel knew his intellectual hunger went further than the mundane and humanitarian which is why he kept him near, kept him close, to advise.

"What is it?"

"Let me put it like this…when this spell is finished, I would not advise standing within it whether human or Undead…"

"Can you locate the Caster?"

"I could…" he said almost casually, "the question is would the intel be of any use to you if you lack the requisite time to do anything about it. I advise you to retreat."

"The King, in his wisdom, won't ORDER a retreat," Zadkiel not bothering to hide his bite of sarcasm

"Poor simple soul...HANG the King. Do you think you will be BETTER off if your army is fried by magic? I assure you the KIng will pin his failures on you, you will be RUINED and even the Princess won't be able to save your hide, no matter her infatuation."

Zadkiel knew Ragne was right, the ONLY way they could stop the mage was if they were faced with him RIGHT NOW. If they stood their ground their forces would face catastrophic casualties which WOULD be heaped upon him if it came to his word against the King's.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

Zadkiel signaled the retreat even as he ordered Ragne to 'shield' the area with a counter-cast in the interest of minimizing their damages both in manpower AND structurally. When the spell sparked, further igniting the battlefield with chaos he was GLAD he'd listened to Ragne over the King - the loss of life had been mitigated but now the true tasks remained, recovery AND revenge, there was NO WAY this insult would go unanswered! Zadkiel KNEW that Renata, with a temper matching the blazing inferno of Muspelheim, would order a recompense of blood and fury once they'd licked their wounds. Only he wasn't counting on their losses being as 'dear' TO HIM as they were. Not believing the KIng would safeguard Renata faithfully he'd sent his best and brightest to secure her safety but even now they returned, looks grave and that was ALL Zadkiel needed, his heart dropping into his chest, "RENATA?!"

In his distress, he completely forgot and dropped the honorifics that society dictated, adopting the familiarity that he and his Princess had adopted between themselves.

"Lost, My Lord," his eyes closing even as his brow furrowed, jaw clenching as he swore a thousand upon thousands of curses upon the damned invaders, "she has been taken," that last jolting him out of his thoughts, the male uncharacteristically dumbstruck.

"What?"

"A vampire, an Elder of considerable strength, attacked the retinue dispatched to protect the Royal Family, their losses were absolute, not a man left standing. The Queen is dead and the Princess, she has been taken, there was nothing we could do."

"WE GO AFTER THEM!" Zadkiel snarled, "THAT is what we DO!"

"NO! You've, done, ENOUGH!" even as the King eyed Zadkiel with barely restrained fury, "I told you...NO retreat, not a STEP, no surrender and you have allowed these VERMIN to steal into MY home, killing MY beloved and taking MY niece, MY Heir, MY child. Your. Time. Is. DONE! We will wage war upon the Undead for this but you, YOU, will NOT partake of the glory, in the years to come you will not even be a FOOTNOTE in history OR of Odin's Blessed Legion. You are relieved of duty, some OTHER will rescue my niece's soul for because of YOU she is surely DAMNED!"

It took EVERYTHING in Zadkiel not to lash out, it would've been so supremely simple and fulfilling to cut down the King for the unfairness, the hypocrisy of it ALL but Ragne came to his salvation, an arm placed upon his even as he warred not to draw his blade from his scabbard and condemn himself to death here and now. If the corrupt, deluded KIng didn't want his service than THAT was fine, Zadkiel never wanted to serve him but rather the Gods and the Queen that Renata would have been. If Renata was untainted, unturned he could STILL rescue her and realize that dream even if it was never him at her side AND if the opposite was true, he could still serve her and the Gods by putting her to her final rest. His hand released its grip upon the hilt, allowing it to slide back into place, even as he untied the heavy weight of the blade and scabbard from his side and allowed the ornate blade to slam in the mud between him and the King, eyes never blinking as he left accompanied by Ragne on his tail in UTTER silence.

Zadkiel was NOT done, this was NOT over, it was only beginning. Zadkiel NEEDED a means to track the undead, to figure out their daylight haunts, and attack them where and while they were vulnerable. It wasn't something he could expect to fall easily in his lap except it did. The former soldier so preoccupied, embarrassingly so, with his musings that he wasn't paying attention as he wandered across the 'fringes' of the battlefield where there was no shortage of human bodies and ashes, the sun having disposed of the Undead except for ONE. At first Zadkiel thought he'd stumbled miraculously upon a survivor, his boot colliding with her making her stir with a soft moan that broke through his reverie as he started down upon her only to catch the faint flash of crimson, her eyes.

Mouth contorting into a frown, sure that if he was currently armed he would have staked her with his blade and been done with her but his hand ghosted over where the comforting weight HAD been moments before. With how weak she was it would be a simple matter to pull her fully in the sun and let her burn but something made him refrain and he was startled to realize it was a sense of familiarity. Give or take a few years she looked alarmingly akin to Renata with only a few 'differences' to set them apart. Renata was tall, much taller than this slip of a girl, where their 'Warrior Princess' had been honed and perfected by years of selfless service to the Gods this girl was shorter, softer. Zadkiel did NOT fall for the ruse, sure that her 'kind' appearance was an inherent deception. Vampires were the most dangerous Undead BECAUSE looks were so deceiving. Her long blond hair the same hue if not a bit dirty but similarities halted there, her crimson eyes faint as they gazed up at him without really seeming to see him.

Indecision WARRED within him, his first impulse to put her down in spite of the strange yearning she summoned in him but it was replaced by cold, crude calculation - we can use her, she is ONE of them. If they left her here, she would be found in time, she would be put to the sword and that would be that. However, there was opportunity here he could take her and use her to hunt down the Undead, to lead him right to the rest of her kind, to twist her into a tool to be used not unlike a parody, a perversion of how the Undead USED humans. In reflection it was spiteful but a fitting fate for one such as her as long as he didn't fall prey to her, to being used by her in the meanwhile and when finished he could discard her, put her down like the refuse she was.

Zadkiel pulled his gauntlet from his hand and shoved the rough leather into her mouth to gag her even as he pulled her into his arms, carrying her to safety even as he reasoned that it was NOT mercy that saved her but practicality.

Rufus gazed around the camp, anxiously inquiring about and after Alicia, he knew she had hated being left behind, being FORCED into a strategic role even as her people fought. After Dipan had fallen some had chosen to die naturally as mortals but MANY had embraced their 'second lives' choosing to accept immortality from the Undead, embittered towards the Gods and ready to devote themselves fully to vengeance for the destruction of all they had known and loved. Following Alicia's death, they had followed his lead even as Rufus struggled with her trust in him, so sure he'd fail her. Over time, as unwanted as the burden had been he'd shouldered the responsibility for her, to honor Alicia's memory until they could be reunited.

Those years had NOT passed easily as Rufus had been EVER disinclined to trust either Brahms OR Lezard. Lezard had NEVER ceased being an enigma and Rufus could not forgive Brahms for his deception, existing in secret within Dylan all their time together. Even more difficult to believe had been the promises those two offered him as incentive, for him to remain in rebellion with them against Odin. Eventually, in spite of his skepticism, that faith had been repaid. Rufus having been SURPRISED when Brahms and Lezard honored their agreements, their promises to him with Brahms providing considerable martial might to bring Hrist Valkyrie to her knees and Lezard using his forbidden knowledge to 'craft' a vessel for Alicia.

Alicia's rebirth and return had not signaled relief in him but rather even more worry, Rufus spent more time than not fearing for her safety, a feeling he could not place to rest until he saw her, taking her into his arms once more except she was missing. No matter WHERE he turned or WHOM he asked no one could seemingly divine her location and every time he was sent off empty-handed for all his queries, his fears increased tenfold. Finally infuriated with the runaround he directly approached Almedha.

The imposing vampiress was eternally frozen deceptively in her late thirties but in truth was much, much, MUCH older than that being alive for centuries if not millennia. Strategically she was a master of her art but frightening beyond belief, never being held back by sentimentality at the cost of her ambitions. Brahms having warned him personally not to cross her leading him to wander if Brahms himself considered her dangerous despite being her 'beloved son'. Unfortunately, there was no denying the femme fatale's ambitions as she was single handedly credited as the shadowy strategist that orchestrated the liberation of vampires from Hel's yoke of oppression while also maintaining their state of rebellion against Odin. There was NO denying that she was brilliant if insane to contemplate AND succeed against two Divines at once and maintaining a two-front conflict against them ever since. Currently she was speaking to Brahms who was engaged in some botched form of first aid while Almedha chastised him. The vampire gritting his teeth as he snapped an arrow first pulling out one end then the other before sealing the wound, covering it with a bandage, and casting the offending ammunition into the fire to burn. Somehow Rufus was NOT surprised by Brahms casual grasp of healing arts but WAS surprised when Brahms gestured for him to come forth, no doubt eager to cut off Almedha's maternal tirade. Almedha wasn't NEARLY so pleased, scowling as she bit her cheek to refrain from retort.

"Alicia, where IS she?!"

Almedha's eyes flared with renewed annoyance at his impertinent tone but she answered tersely, "Last I KNEW she abandoned her post with me in favor of fighting on the frontlines! She was last seen with her 'rabble' Of course THAT was before your PET Magus threw EVERYTHING into chaos. Do you realize HOW MUCH we LOST with that stunt of his?!"

Almedha turning her attention back from him to Brahms, truly seeming furious at him for a change though Brahms didn't seem to be paying her ANY mind, his attention seeming a millions miles from this room but even he said, "Alicia is missing?"

This time, Almedha seemed annoyed, like Alicia's well being was a subject that was beneath her notice, "I just TOLD you that! She isn't HERE meaning she must be there!"

Rufus felt a true sense of panic and rage claw through him, "We have to go get her!"

"YOU are more than welcome to TRY, as it is, WE are trapped here until nightfall…," Almedha's tone almost inviting quarrel which Rufus was about to indulge if not for Brahms' intervention, his massive fist colliding with the table space between them.

"Come nightfall, you WILL dispatch a force BACK to Crell Monferaigne," his tone a growl inviting NO defiance or insubordination as he spoke to Almedha then turned on Rufus, only his emotions for Alicia kept him from stepping back or betraying ANY sort of intimidation, "YOU will lead that force! The rest of the vanguard will start the journey, the return back home."

"You're leaving?" Rufus both furious and dumbfounded that Brahms would put Alicia in danger and leave her behind with only a 'token' force to infiltrate and fight the proverbial nest of hornets they'd stirred this night, "If it was Silmeria in danger you wouldn't turn your back and run away!"

Brahms rose with a snarl, the long table uprooted with one jerk of his massive arms and colliding with enough force it splintered into fragments that littered the room, the Vampire King making the table the target of his rage instead of Rufus even still he closed the distance between them until he was practically breathing down upon him, "You will be GRATEFUL with what assistance I feel fit to GIVE you. Thanks to Lezard's improvisation last night we LEVELED a mortal city, incurring great PERSONAL losses AND casualties. I have MORE to consider than Alicia's fate alone! My Vampires will NOT remain here as stationary targets where they will be left to the MERCY of an enemy that will have NONE for them and NEVER HAVE!"

It was the first time Rufus had even considered that Brahms had the weight of the race on his shoulders, a responsibility that he might even resent at times but still shouldered just as Rufus once had once for Alicia, for her people and reflected that perhaps he'd owe the Vampire Lord an apology but as he left his tense body language alone told Rufus that NOW was NOT the time.

Lenneth touched down in the midst of the castle noticing faint signs of battle, of conflict in halls never meant to be touched by battle let alone tread by the Undead. The stench, the blood, the bodies left behind bespoke of an Undead of considerable strength, a true threat - Brahms.

Lenneth had never had the 'pleasure' of meeting Brahms sure that if she did she would place him in his eternal rest and never regret NOR pity his fate at the hands of Hel within Nifleheim. Her sollerets touching down lightly upon the marble floor as she landed softly next to the Queen's prone form, a sad end to a long suffering woman. Lenneth gently placed her hand upon her brow, attuning to the faint resonance of her soul as she knew what she would hear, what she would see. Lenneth would be privy to the last moments of her life, usually they were moments of intense agony and suffering and Evadne was no exception. Blessedly, Evadne's physical death and suffering had been short-lived, the death blow that had killed her having been a mercy stroke as if the Undead cared, they lacked such tendencies towards mercy meaning simply they'd wanted her to die and quickly.

- Renata…-

-So young…-

The Queen looking back on this girl that she had raised in near solitude from infant to girl, from girl to adolescent, from adolescent to young adult seeing Renata in all her highs and lows. Comforting and guiding her as a child, a daughter, a Princess, and thanking the Gods every day for giving her Aredhel's child to love since she'd never have her very own.

-So full of promise…yet…-

Lenneth almost feeling a 'strangeness' to the woman's thoughts , the woman desperately clinging to these emotional ties even as she crossed over towards the young woman, brushing her hair aside with remorse as she leveled a weapon against her. It left her in UTTER confusion, these actions belied by NO ill will, no concentrated intent of harm like the woman was being propelled forward devoid of free will, inescapable to stop what was unfolding before her with her own two hands. Evadne's final moments were spent warring against herself but finally, inevitably one side won. Evadne's thoughts turning to cold calculations as she hefted the weapon.

She must meet her end, by my hand if nothing else, that is the will of the Gods…

Then agony TORE through her, wicked claws slicing through her gut before she could act upon that fated stroke. Lenneth watched as Evadne gazed down seeing the red ruin of her chest mere moments before her eyes started to dim then went black as her grip upon the weapon loosened, her final words almost prophetic in a way.

"Odin awaits…"

Lenneth came back to her own mind as Evadne's last moments, last memories dissipated into nothingness. Odin would, in time, receive this soul. Lenneth gently drawing the soul from the empty husk and into her own being as she spoke directly to Evadne, "Meanwhile…wait within…"

A quick gaze around the chamber when combined with Evadne's memories made it clear to Lenneth that Renata wasn't here, she HAD been taken and it was for Lenneth to pursue the Undead for that soul. However, Lenneth Valkyrie was troubled, she was NOT a death goddess, it was NOT her responsibility for her to snuff out lives and Renata's death was clearly orchestrated, propelled forward but to what end? Why her? Why now? Why was her death SO necessary?

The Valkyrie attempting to bury these doubts as once more she unfurled her pale white wings and vaulted into the sky, unaware that she was being watched from afar, from the shadows. The mage known as Lezard Valeth smiling as he breathed in her scent, the pale strands held fast in his reverent grip as he vowed they would cross paths once more.