Spearing the Siren

EIGHT

      Gaeleth wasn't sure what had awoken him since he heard not a sound before he opened his eyes. He froze in true terror at the sight of the Midgardian on the far side of the bed, his sunflower with a knife to her throat. Those cold blue eyes reminded him of a Dokkalfr, but he knew instantly he wasn't. His sunflower's face was red, from frustration and embarrassment, he sensed, rather than fear.
      "This is simple," the Midgardian said as Gaeleth judged his hold on the knife as experienced rather than amateur, "Cease your campaign against us, or I will cut her throat."
      Gaeleth's eyes gentled. "You won't do that."
      "You don't know the first thing about me—"
      "I know you grew up in a hostile environment that caused you to make hostile decisions. But there is no evil in your heart, child."
      Momentary hesitation shifted in those gorgeously cold eyes of his, like pieces of ice from his homeland.
      "If you think to manipulate me, you are mistaken. I have done unspeakable things in the service of my planet, and I won't shy away from this."
      "You wouldn't murder an innocent, young one. As most predators, you kill to survive, not for pleasure."
      "That is exactly why I would do it now. Give the order to stop the armada, or I will take the precious thing in your life."
      Gaeleth sat up. "I can't do that," he said quietly. "Your people and your allies stand against us taking our place in Asgard, something that has little to nothing to do with you."
      "You would come after us next until you had all the realms under your boot—"
      "Have you never wondered why Hel began this war? Why it means so much to the queen of the dead to stop us from taking Asgard?"
      "She wants to survive, like the rest of us. Your people think you're gods—"
      "That is correct. We are the closest this galaxy will ever know. We should have been in Asgard long ago, but Odin and his cohorts took it from us. We are descended from the Vanir, the old gods, while the Aesir cared only for their wars and bloodshed."
      "And now you want all of us to worship you—"
      "A true god does not require worship, child. Our place in Asgard would not affect you in the least. Neither the Vanir nor the Aesir have been seen on Midgard for what, ten millennia? And the Vanir always considered Midgard a friend, at times an ally. The matters of gods have never involved mortals. Ragnarok took place in the higher realms. Midgard was not even aware a war took place. We have no desire to disrupt the balance between our realms, young one."
      Those eyes watched him for a moment before he took the knife away, but his sunflower took the opportunity, turning to grab his wrist. With the blade so close to her throat, and her sudden movement, the sharp edge penetrated her skin. The Midgardian dropped the knife, taking a step back, staring as his sunflower dropped to her knees, holding her partially opened throat. Gaeleth jumped from bed, running to her side, lowering her to the floor as she stared up at him.
      "Why did you struggle, sunflower?"
      "He would have hurt you..." she trailed off, her eyelids drooping. The Midgardian stared down at them, Gaeleth commending him for not turning and running, as he laid a hand to her open neck. He shut his eyes as he sang a song of healing. Her head rolled to the side as she lost consciousness. William stared in nothing so much as awe as the Ljosalfr sang a song he never thought possible as a glow shone over him and his wounded lover. The atmosphere in the room changed, and some part of him changed with it. His vision filled with a murky white light, a glowing fog that fell over everything. HIs breath caught at the beauty that seemed entirely of another world, the white glow the clearest over the tall, dark-skinned female. It vanished all at once and William felt transported back to the realm of the living as the admiral took the elf and put her on the bed, sitting down beside her, brushing her hair from her eyes.
      "My sunflower was always a fighter, in her quiet way," he said softly, William unable to be unaffected at the nickname, since it fit her height perfectly. The admiral turned toward him, his perfect, pale, softly glowing features tired. "You can go the same way you came, I trust."      William's eyes sharpened on him. "Your people need not know of your unsuccessful attempt here." He looked back down at her and William just stood there, wondering how he could care about his saving face when he'd almost killed his "sunflower." "Thank you for your concern, but she will be alright."
      William's gaze intensified on the back of his white head, since no one alive had been able to read him that well. He turned and decided to take him up on his offer before he rescinded it.