Meant To Be.

Odin Sphere Fanfiction by:
Blue Trinkets.

Chapter 1: Feather.

He didn't know why he kept it.

I should just burn it. Oswald thought to himself, shifting his gaze from the shimmering blue feather lying on his palm, to the hungry flames of the fireplace. It wasn't a trophy from a fallen foe or a spoil of war. No...it held little value to him.

Melvin has sent him to gather intel in Ragnanival. One of the most dangerous missions he had taken. Not many can infiltrate the very heart of the Demon Lord's stronghold and live to tell the tale. In fact, no one in all of Ringford has ever succeeded, not even the previous Shadow Knights, the most elite of them all. Oswald knew that the mission could mean his own death, but there was simply nothing he will not do for his father.

After a scuffle with the giant brute Brigan, Oswald continued on until he found himself in the throne room. It was completely devoid of people, but curiosity led him to walk closer to where Odin's throne stood. And there just at the corner, he saw the map and strategies of warfare, confirming the general's word. The Aesir were indeed on the verge of invading the Vanir. Lost in his musings, Oswald has heard the footsteps belatedly until it was almost too late. He made it just in time to hide among the pillars when a young woman entered, accompanied by a pooka.

Oswald picked the large feather and slowly twirled it. It shimmered in various shades of ultramarine blue, a dye from grounded lapis lazuli, the most expensive blue pigment in all of Erion. This was no ordinary Valkyrie feather. Only one of high standing can have such in possession.

He found himself reluctantly pleased by the color. A feeling Oswald quickly suppressed.

I must have drunk more than I thought. He looked at the half empty bottle beside his chair. Such feelings will only weaken him, soften him up. And that cannot be, if he were to continue serving his father Melvin.

But tomorrow he'll forget about it soon enough. What harm could a few seconds of indulgence do?

He has picked up the feather after the young woman left the throne room. It wasn't the feather itself that fascinated him, but the memories, the images it evoked.

Of silky, long hair, in the palest shade of blond. Of eyes a deeper blue than the ocean, and lips rosier than the ripest of napples.

She was dressed in a dark gown that left her shoulders bare, the laced bodice emphasized the soft thrust of her breasts and that waist. Such a tiny waist for one so formidable in battle.

And then he heard her name. Gwendolyn.

Odin's Witch.

The youngest daughter of King Odin. Though she didn't wield a psypher like her older sister Griselda did, Gwendolyn was the more feared of the two in battle. But at that moment, she didn't look like a fierce Valkyrie.

No, what he beheld in that throne room was the most incredibly beautiful woman he'd seen. Even the sound of her voice pleased him. Soft, soothing and...warm, like a fire in the coldest night.

What in Halja's name is wrong with me? Oswald shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. I must focus on the coming war.

In a few days time, they would be in the ruined land bordering Ringwood and Valentine. He had intercepted info that Odin intend to locate the Crystallization Cauldron. A bold move that Elfaria, could not simply ignore. The cauldron yielded too much power to let anyone have control over it, let alone the Demon Lord who already wields the largest psypher known in Erion.

Odin wasn't aware of the Ringford army waiting for them in Valentine. It's going to be a bloody battle.

Gwendolyn...

Oswald winced as he caught himself worrying over that girl. Grunting slightly, he reached for the bottle, not bothering for a glass, Oswald drank straight from it. The liquid burned a trail down his throat and heat imploded in his stomach.

Why should he care what happens to her? She's the enemy.

That he was having these thoughts was treason already. Yet he couldn't stop the unease that settled in his chest at the thought of her getting hurt.

It's just the ale making me feel like this. He reasoned as he stood up, dropping the feather on the chair and walked towards the bed, swaying slightly.

Tomorrow she'll be nothing more but a fancy whim...should our paths meet in battle, I won't hold back.

That fancy whim is the reason why you're sleeping alone tonight. Oswald groaned as he collapsed face down on the bed. Shut up! I'm just tired. It was long voyage across the sea from Ragnanival.

He tried to force himself to sleep, to silence the voice in his head, telling him what he didn't want to face.

That he no longer has interest in the tavern girl he visits on occasions. Even when she welcomed his return from the mission with smiles that promised the world, not even when she pressed her generous bosom against his arm as she led him to a table in the tavern.

She was still an attractive woman, the prettiest in the local area, a few men had even asked for her hand in marriage. But Oswald suddenly found himself uninterested in what she has to offer.

Just fatigue. He told himself again and again. Just tired...

It's certainly not because he couldn't forget the glimmer of lights reflected in long, silvery hair. Or how soft her lips looked like, how deep a blue her eyes were.

It's certainly not because he wondered how her skin would taste like, how the weight of her breasts would feel against his palms...

No! Stop it!

It's certainly not because he wants to feel those legs wrap around his hips as he thrust deep into soft, tight flesh that has never known the intimate possession of a man.

Gwendolyn...

Oswald.

In his mind, he heard her call his name. Even as she arched her neck, a simple yet irresistible gesture of surrender that drove him mad. She held him close, caressed his neck as she whispered his name again and again as he thrust into her. She was small, tight, and his...only his.

The warm wetness that suddenly coated his palm startled Oswald. Too late did he realize what has happened. But at this point he has finally found release from the sexual tension that has gripped his body from the moment he had seen her, to care or pay any mind to the voice accusing him of treason or even shame.

Tomorrow, he will forget her. Tomorrow she will be nothing more but a memory, a momentary weakness he indulged in. But tonight, her lovely face was the last thing his mind remembers, her name the last thing he whispered before sleep finally, mercifully claimed him.

A/N: Not sure what it is but I just had a sudden craving for Odin Sphere recently which led me to write again. Been years since I wrote anything, so I don't think I have improved in writing, I just hope I didn't deteriorate. lol

This should be a multi-chapter one, hopefully, before my muse goes silent again I'll be able to complete. ^_^