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srkross · 1 year

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“Savrena Krossanthym! If I find out you’ve taken my oils again I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what, Sigrun?” I interrupted, voice sweet, but held the undertone of challenge.

She turned in annoyance to face me. Her blonde hair braided out of her face, eyes narrowed as she took in my freshly oiled armor and leathers.

“We have a mission, Savrena. You’re delaying me with your childish antics. Give me my oils so I can prepare my armor.”

“Sigrun…” the challenging undertone drained from my voice. “You take this much too seriously. Gathering worthy souls to shepherd back to Valhalla day in, day out. Don’t you get bored?”

“It’s our duty, Savrena. You know that. We are entrusted to find worthy warriors to bring back for Odin. He needs them by his side at Ragnarok.” She held out her hand expectantly.

I rolled my eyes as I placed the container of oils into her outstretched hand. “We’ve been doing this for centuries. Our mothers, grandmothers… I, for one, am sick of it. There has to be more for us than this. Fun, enjoyment… I know we have our purpose, but does that really mean we can’t take time to enjoy life for ourselves as well?”

Sigrun’s hard expression softened. Her deep blue eyes studied my face. It was like she could see through to my soul. Could read the uncertainty, the listlessness and yearning for more.

“Krossanthym…Kross” she smiled. “You are an exceptional warrior, even for Valkyrie standards. You tower above most of our sisters. Your presence alone is enough to put fear into even the strongest of mortal’s hearts. You fear nothing. In your position I think I would be bored as well.” She moved a lock of my red hair behind my ear. “Focus this energy into our cause and out of mischief. When you do, you’ll find your resolve.”

Her eyes bore upon me, Their steely conviction froze the blood in my veins. I couldn’t meet them. Mine did not hold the same passion, the save drive within them. She would see it and know my weakness.

“I’m going to get ready for our mission, Kross. I’ll meet you on the balcony in an hour’s time.”

My head bobbed in acknowledgement.

Later, I stood on the balcony with my wings draped over my shoulders. They were soft, silky as my fingers brushed through them. My gaze was fixed off into the distance, but was lost in thought.

Sigrun was right. My body was made for this life. My sisters were all forces in their own right, but I stood out among them. Always the first one chosen for difficult missions, always frontline in battles. This life was what I was made for. With my sisters at my side there was a sense of loyalty and dedication to our cause that drove me to push far beyond what was expected.

Over the years we observed mortals, hand picking those we deemed worthy to fight alongside Odin. We saw their lives and their untimely deaths in the heat of battle. Yes, they were warriors and powerful, but they also LIVED. They had fun, had families and adventures to lands unknown.

The mortals we shepherded had such short moments of time compared to us. We do not age, but we are not immortal. Valkyrie deaths are rare, but do happen. They fought from birth to death for the cause, building up an army in preparations for Ragnarok. Ceaseless, never ending bloodshed and training to keep in pique condition. Never a moment for ourselves.

Did they regret it?

If I perished in battle what would I be remembered for? My power, my comradery, another warrior lost in the name of the cause. There’s more to me than that!

Isn’t there?

Any time I tried to think of what more I was, what more I could be, nothing came to mind. Surely there must be more. If only I had a chance to find it, find myself.

My body tensed as I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Battle honed reflexes ready to strike until Sigrun’s voice cooed into my ear.

“If I had been an assassin, you’d be in trouble. You’re losing your touch.”

“An assassin in Valhalla? Are you telling me you’re on guard even here, Sigrun?”

“Of course. A true warrior is always ready. Letting your defenses down for even a moment can lead to defeat. It puts you and the rest of our sisters in danger.”

Silence engulfed the air around us. Sigrun was our leader, our elder… my mother. I didn’t see the harm in allowing myself to relax in the safety of our home, but knew better than to speak back.

“Kross… I have seen many of my sisters fall over my lifetime. Either to carelessness of their own or of someone else. Valhalla lulls you into security, makes you feel safe. It is our home, but that does not mean you are untouchable here. I do not want to have to bury you.”

I met her stern gaze. Her unyielding and relentlessness came from a place of love and concern. A desire to keep her loved ones safe during chaos.

“You won't have to bury me, Sigrun. I’ll do better to remember.”

With a satisfied nod, Sigrun stepped onto the railing of the balcony and leapt into the air. Her powerful wings sent her soaring through the sky, armor gleamed in the sunlight. She was the epitome of our kind, power, grace and honor bound. I stood on the railing of the balcony, hesitant with wings unfurled.

She said I feared nothing. If only she knew how afraid I really was.

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