The Valhal-Muspell War ruined many lives. Its effects still felt throughout the land and then some. Some, such as Alice Verdandi, felt its effects more than others. Her parents in an unusual twist of fate, were drafted into the Valhal Military and subsequently parished in Muspell in one of the battles. The war is part of the reason she met Sigurd, a husband she chose to elope with. One of his injuries chose to be fatal, or rather he became sick; poison by her reckoning, perhaps some outside agent at work. She suspected some power of Odin at work. Outcast as a noble for having eloped with the enemy, she had little recourse left in Valhalla. She is left to contemplate her fate in her parents’s vacation village of “Maria”. Nuetral territory. She chooses to join the Valhalla Militia, and later the ranks of Valkyrie. As luck further strips her of her fate, she finds she is pregnant. Eloping had its benefits. Perhaps she could continue her lineage and nobility after all. Only Valkyrie and Valken are not allowed to have children.
The eve of childrearing, fallen Valkyrie and now witch Salmira, presented herself to the woman. She made her an offer. She had the power to move objects in time and change fate. Her child would live, but not by her hand. She would give Salmira a number of years of service to change fate, in exchange for her daughter being spared the wrath of Odin, ‘the terrible one’.
This fate continually haunts her, knowing it could be some decades or centuries before she sees her daughter again. She muses this to herself as she rides horseback with little else to do. Her journey to Southerly was a long one, so she entertains herself and plans her future in her mind. She trains herself, hones her wit and skill. She has so many things to do before she is dead, and thankfully now that she is Valkyriekin, she will have a long life to do so. However, this comes at a price. The allfather (Odin), was very clear on this. As part of his plan to subdue the Midgard continent, the pests known as ‘sprite’ would be erradicated.
“He plans to annahilate any supernatural foes that would jeopardize his power. How fitting to be called the terrible one.”
Speaking of terrible ones, her horse suddenly stops dead in its tracts and attempts to rear while turning around. It spins several circles and lets out a whiny akin to a grunt. Strife knows the drill. Her horse can sense something she can’t. It is soon roped to a tree as she continues down the barely worn footpath towards her location. A letter in her hand with orders by Odin himself, she will present it to the village upon their execution. It is her place to do so, she is the weapon and following orders, not the wielder, that is Odin’s will. But more importantly, Odin would ‘forgive’ her for cheating her nobility and eloping if she completes this order. Her execution would be stayed. She has no choice.
However, fate has other things in mind for her. At the foot path of the village she lets out a loud “HAIL!”. Several lights form further down the footpath and towards the entrance. She understands them to be spritekin, faerie, faeriekin or simply ‘sprites’; they are the pests people hear about in fairytales. Long driven from Valhalla, this is one of their havens. Her goal is clear. She holds up the slip of paper, bearing the seal of Valhalla and another of Odin himself.
“By order of the high lord, this area is to be exterminated. Prepare yourselves.”
Gripping the paper in one hand, she puts it away the paper nonchalantly. She looks up from her hand and sees a shape crossing from the far end of the village. She summons her sword. No manner of supernatural beast would stop her. The beast comes closer. Strife takes one step forward, but immediately stops and takes one step backwards, now holding her sword with both hands. She shakes once or twice and attempts to regain her composure.
“No manner of beast will save you!”
It stops only to eye her sword once. Nervous, but undeterred, Valkyrie Strife charges into a run, gripping her sword overhead with both hands. She would use a faint and actually swing it and pierce the beast and slay it. She would keep its head as a trophy of her deed and a souvenir for Odin. His sick sense of humor in this regard would grant her some favor, perhaps. But perhaps not. The thought is wiped from her mind and she focuses on the task at hand.
Strife easily recognizes it as a fabled wearwolf. They are uncommon. However, that not withstanding, one is here now. It lets out an unearthly howl. Strife feels it penetrate her senses, but only further enhances them. She will deliver this thing as a trophy to Odin and her fate would be alleviated.
—
Sweiza sees it. The familiar woman clad in armor. She thought she had died on the Sterling Blue. Wait. She thinks about it for a second. This is a younger version of Strife. She doesn’t have time to ponder it as the warrior has her sword out. Sweiza’s appearance must have broken her composure, as she took a step back. It doesn’t last long, Strife has another step forward and begins charging. Her sword is out. Sweiza stands there. She knows how to handle this. Her only intent is to shield her face, but more importantly her eyes. She does just that with both hands.
Strife is undettered by whatever petty tricks the ‘monster’ has in store. The distance between then shortens. Mere feet now. Strife lets out a yell. Strife swings her sword from an overhead two handed maneuver to a surprise thrust; she goes for the creature’s heart.
Sweiza is forced to take a few steps back as the tip of the blade connects with her thick berserker hide. Strife is taken aback as it doesn’t impale the creature. Did she not penetrate it right, perhaps the creature is in fact wearing a hide and armor underneath? It doesn’t matter. She fixes her mistake and attempts another thrust. Again she goes for the heart. Same effect as before. The weapon’s tip connects, but it doesn’t penetrate. Sweiza is oblivious to what is going on, shielding her face. She just knows she feels something lump up against her chest. However, it is the next blow that catches her attention. She feels the Valkyrie’s sword graze one of her arms and the tip of the blade touch her throat. Her hands come down and her emotions take over as she lowers her hands to glare at the woman. However, strife is mid-swing for a decapitation. The weapon again rubs Sweiza’s berserker hide with no effect.
That maneuver pisses Sweiza off. She grunts and then bowls her hands into fists and stands with both legs in a V. Strife attempts another swing of her sword, another maneuver meant for decapitation. The weapon again makes contact with Sweiza’s hide and has no effect. Strife notes this isn’t working. The only possible vulnerable areas of the creature would be anything not related to its hide - nostrils, mouth, more than likely the eyes. No, its eyes might be protected by the eyelids. A direct thrust into the brain would be needed.
Strife charges at maximum speed and attempts to thrust into the creature’s face aiming for the mouth. Strife lets out a cry as the creature grabs her sword midthrust. The buttend of Strife’s sword slaps into her armor. As the creature pulls the sword aimed at its face, Strife is left to look at it directly in the eye. It lets out a narrow eyed grimace to one side of its mouth at her. It rips the sword from her hands and chucks it to the side. Strife attempts a kick at the creature’s knee. It is forced to drop from the pain. She takes the elbow of her armor and attempts to smash it into the creature’s head. It has little effect as it connects with the berserker’s head.
Sweiza takes in a deep breath and lets out a hellish scream that leaves Strife frozen. Her body shakes from it. She tries to recompose herself, but it doesn’t work. Anxiety steps in. The creature is up on its legs again. It grabs Strife by the underside of her breastplate and lifts her off the ground.
A nervous Strife finally speaks with a different demeanor.
“What are you going to do?”
At last, Sweiza’s emotions subside (slightly) and she speaks, “This village is under my protection. Leave.”
Strife rebuttals, “I can’t leave. These pests are to be exterminated.”
Sweiza grimaces at the Valkyrie again. She looks over towards one of the trees. Too mean. However, ‘those’ might work. Yes, indeed. She walks over to one of the crystalline trees and lifts Strife and smashes her into it. The crystalline isn’t particularly hard, but it serves a point. Strife lets out a surprise grunt. Her hands come down to the creature’s arms attempting to either restrain it, brace herself or regain control of the situation. Either way, Strife finds herself smashed into several more trees of crystal. Strife is finally left out of control of her situation as she is repeatedly smashed into more and more crystal. Grunt after grunt escapes her mouth. She tries to speak several times, but is interrupted by more crystal smashing. Sweiza has to refrain from finding this fun.
After the last crystalline tree disappears from a rock outcropping, Sweiza walks to the center of the village and chucks the battered Valkyrie to the ground. Her armor is nicked and scratched and any markings and clothing worn outside of it are worse for wear. Her face as a bruise on one of her cheeks. Sweiza stares down at her handywork. However, several wings and bright lights in her peripheral vision get her attention. She looks around. The sprite have kept their distance, however, some inch closer. What gets Sweiza’s attention is the huts that have been destroyed in the process. She lets out a growl.
She picks up Strife by her greave and holds her upside down.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t finish yo…”
Sweiza feels it like a stabbing pain hitting her nerves. She drops Strife and staggers backward. She looks down at Strife and clutches her chest as she feels another pain. Her arms cross as a feeling of extreme cold hits her. Her body feels thousands of needs prick her. She crouches down and tries to fan her shoulders in an attempt to warm herself up. She feels another stabbing pain. She looks from Strife, up to the moon of Lokul. She curses her luck as she feels the life being sucked out of her. She finally collapses several feet from Strife.
Both participants have lost the battle, but as far as the Sprite are concerned, it is a victory.
—
It is sometime towards mid-day. Sweiza lets out a groan as her body experiences pain and aches all over. Her body twists and turns as she instinctively tries to shake herself awake from whatever bad dream is ailing her. However, the pain doesn’t subside. Her eyes reluctantly open and she sees the midday sun shining down on her. Several wings of large insects hover over her. With each blink she sees they are infact wings attached to sprite. She tries to shift her head, but the brightness of the sun forces her to look in the opposite direction. She feels more pain and aches in her body. She lets out another groan.
The sounds of very active sprite catch her attention, but she has to force her eyes closed. She tries to put her hand up to her face, but feels something tethered to them. It feels brisk against her skin. Rope! That is the first thought. She tries to figure out what is going on, but her senses feel extremely dull and a mental fog plagues her. She hears the sprites’ squawks and chirps. They fade into the distance. She tries to rouse her senses, but they refuse. She suddenly feels rope against her legs as she tries to move them. She knows she is pinned down, perhaps in a bed. The thought of more hooligans having their way with her. Is Sprite nearby? She tries to remember her situation. He wouldn’t be with her. She doesn’t remember why. Other sprites? They are not that common. She has only seen a few per season and they usually run.
Metal footsteps.
They inch closer.
She hears them click together. Then a familiar voice. Strife.
“You’re finally awake.”
Sweiza’s head shifts over to the greaves, and then the armor, and finally the face of the woman standing above her. Sweiza’s face grimaces from the light. She can barely see Strife. Sweiza says nothing, the pain still affecting her.
“You seem to be a little worse for wear.”
Sweiza tries jerking on one of the ropes. Ignoring Strife, her head shifts over to the end of the rope. Her hand is pulled tight with said rope to a stake in the ground.
“A precaution.”
Strife’s eyebrows shoot up when Sweiza makes eye contact again. Sweiza tries to utter something, but it comes out muffled.
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“I see you are no longer ‘bear of shirt’.”
Sweiza simply nods, albeit slowly and weakly.
Strife circles her once, turns her back to her, crosses her arms, then turns around. Strife finally leans over her.
“You can thank Freya that our fates have been woven together. I’ve decided to spare them.” Strife’s eyes shoot to some of the Sprite watching them; her eyes quickly shoot back to Sweiza, “I was surprised to learn that a Valkyrie was behind this berserker hide.”
Sweiza looks over at her hand once. The realization hits her. She isn’t a berserker at the moment.
“The legends say berserker’s are bed ridden once the frenzy is gone.”
Weakly, and begrudgingly Sweiza again nods.
Strife stands up straight and looks up, then back to Sweiza. Strife’s arms craddle.
“This village is no place for a person to recover. I’ll take you back to Maria.”
Sweiza simply nods. She again feels the life slowly draining from her. She forces herself to stay to.
“They’ll… … move… right?”
Strife’s eyebrows slowly raise.
“They’ve been appraised of the situation.
Sweiza only thinks ‘damn it’. She tries to speak again with the life force draining from her. Her body finally goes slack.
Strife frowns at the girl on the ground.
“I didn’t think I’d need a strethcer.”
Strife’s arms cross again and she taps her right hand’s index finger against her shoulder. She looks up at the sky and closes her eyes in misery.
“Sigurd, what did I get myself into?”
—-
Sweiza finds herself in an unsettling, but familiar surrounding. It is Maria Village, however, something about it seems different. The buildings appear to be made entirely of wood with no fancy designs. There are multiple pathways leading up to the village center and the ever familiar water fountain, but everything has a peculiar ‘rustic’ feel to it. She decides to wander, but after turning around she is startled to a totem pole that pops up in front of her. Several of the faces move in randon directions; several of them also spin on there base. She is left to give a peculiar glance at it. She rolls her eyes and a stick appears in her hands. She raises it back and cracks them and hard.
—
Sweiza’s eyes pop open to a ceiling. Her head shifts around. It is an unfamiliar bedroom. She slowly pulls herself to a sitting position. Her surprise is at the pink covers on her. She looks around. It is the vanity that gets her attention. It is an expensive one detailed with intricate carvings. Sitting on the shelf of the vanity is a picture of a man with dark brown hair, brown eyes and dark skin. Sweiza doesn’t recognize him.
Demi.
The thought enters her head. She lets out a low brow grumble at the thought of him. At least if he is joking around in her dreams, it means she is safe and not in any immediate danger - or so her experience would provide.
She shakes the thought of him from her head. She continues looking around. The bedroom walls, floor and ceiling all look reminiscent of typical furnishings and walls she would expect from any bedrooms in Maria Village. She looks around again, “Just where the hell am I?”
Her thoughts shift to the door. She is up on her feet. Her feet hit wood. It feels cold. She looks around for her shoes. They are nowhere to be seen. For that matter, when looking down at the ground she notices her normal clothing is gone. Instead she is in some kind of lavender outfit, some kind of nightie, but an odd one with a metallic sheen. This is one she is not familiar with. She shakes the notion for the time being. Right now she is in a foreign siguation and her safety is top priority. She slowly creeps to the door. Her second priority is finding her rucksack if possible; otherwise she will simply try to make an escape. She has a feeling she has been kidnapped or perhaps got too drunk last night and some suitor brought her home. She again shakes the thought of having performed some regretful actions the night before. Why can’t she remember?
There is a crack to the floor under her. She freezes. Some time passes, almost two minutes. She hears nothing and continues towards the door. It continually creeks as it opens. Sweiza freaks out and stifles her mouth. She hides behind the door. A minute passes and her head peaks out from behind it. There is no one there. All she sees is a small hallway with a single door (she assumes a bathroom or a closet). She slowly tiptoes over to it and attempts to open it. It does open. It is just a closet. She doesn’t note any windows. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. She turns around towards the stairs and drops to all fours as she slowly descends the stairs backwards. Her breathing is erratic as her body forces her to pull in air with each breath she forcefully holds. She can feel her heart beating. This can’t be happening!
She hears the crack of a fire. Her head shifts to the direction of the sound. There are spaces between the railing on the stairs. Indeed there is a fire. She sees a chair, a very tall one. There is a small coffee table next to it; there is an arm and a hand lowering a cup to the table.
“Hello?”
Goosebumps all over her. She really feels them in her arms as her body tightens up. She mentally freaks out. How could she be so stupid as to announce her presence and say hello? She looks back up towards the stairs. Her first instinct is to bolt back up to the hallway. However, most houses in Maria also have the front door adjacent from the 2nd story stairwell. Sure enough, she sees it. As she turns back towards the chair, she freezes to see a head peaking from the left side of it.
A woman, wavy hair, dirty blonde at that. It looks nice.
The woman speaks before Sweiza can react.
“You’re awake. Marvelous. You must be hungry. Will you join me for tea in the kitchen?”
Sweiza holds her body from trembling. She realizes she has been caught in the act of escape; she also realizes she is still on all fours. She instinctively nods (albeit slowly and with concern) at her assumed captor.
The woman’s head disappears behind the chair again. She steps out from behind it and around the coffee table. Sweiza is not familiar with the style of dress the woman is wearing. It is a full body dress completely in purple velvet; it looks sophisticated and regal. There is some kind of darker and satin girdle on the upper torso of the dress. Sweiza is not familiar with it, she also doesn’t believe she has ever seen that type of support before. It appears to be a bra if she ever saw one, but never has she seen one that is from the waist up.
The woman gentley claps the book she was reading. She sets it with both hands in front of her.
“I would be honored if you would join me as my guest.”
Sweiza’s eyes widen and she simply lets out a dumbfounded nod.
The woman turns around and motions with her finger and hand above her head. It is a come hither motion and oriented at the kitchen.
What choice does she have? If this is her captor, she is certainly putting on a good show for her ‘guest’. Besides, Sweiza needs food, and now!
—
Some quarter hour later the table is prepped, tea has been steamed, sugar and cream are out in their respective containers and two bowls - one full of cinnamon rolls and another with French croissants. Sweiza is already at the table while Strife handles something in one of her cupboards. Sweiza sees it is a cup of water and an odd powder.
“Powdered butter.”
A quick rise of her eyebrows and a brief smile (that fades all too quickly) disappears from Sweiza’s face. Maria Village wasn’t known for electricity, so the residents are always finding ways to take care of things; this one apparently is Strife’s way.
Butter on the table and body sitting in a chair, Strife’s hands clap in a pray motion with her eyes closed for a few seconds. She is already helping herself to a croissant and stops when she sees the girl from across the table staring at her.
“Well don’t be shy, dig in.”
Strife says it nonchalantly. The girl blinks blankly and starts helping herself. Strife gives her no attention to her manners. Tea time in her (Strife’s) mind is a time for people to take off their masks and show their true selves. Strife’s manners, while dignified are a stark contrast to Sweiza. Sweiza can be compared to an uncouthe backwater girl with a brash demeanor. Strife’s movements are far more graceful while Sweiza is a bit more wild.
Strife fakes laughter with her left hand covering her mouth. Sweiza is mid-bite of her roll, but immediately stops.
“What?”
Strife simply shakes her head, stifling more laughter.
Come the actual tea, Sweiza’s first reaction is to try and grab the teacup with both hands. It dawns on her it does indeed have a handle and is not to be used like a normal cup. The cup touches her lips and the taste hits her tongue. Her face suddenly winces and the cup is pulled away briskly. Sweiza makes a face and lets out a ‘ugh’ at it. Strife tilts her head at the girl.
“It really could use more sugar.” Sweiza says it looking down at the cup. Strife is already nodding, but gingerly pushing the creamer and sugar containers towards the girl.
Strife’s eyebrows perk once, but quickly settle; a brief flash of a smile, not unlike Sweia’s from earlier, also adorns her mouth. Both don’t last, but Strife knows the typical movement of young boys when they are impatient - they either fidget in their chair, or in this case with Sweiza, she is busy kicking her feet back and forth under the table.
“Uh, Miss…”
Strife’s head tilts again at the girl. “I never did get your name.”
Sweiza looks up, her eyes widen.
“I…”
She looks away from Strife.
“I can’t call you young one and young lady.” Strife says it with patience, but more to the point.
Sweiza’s head again shifts to the woman and their eyes meet.
Sweiza feels this would be the time to lie, but she can’t remember. For that matter, when she looks in her mind, she can’t remember what she was doing the night before, or the last few days prior. Why can’t she remember the last few weeks?
“My friends call me Sera.”
Strife’s head again tilts at the girl, “That is an odd name for a Valkyrie.”
Sweiza frowns.
“You will show me your armor won’t you?”
Sweiza’s head sways from side to side. Strife stares at her. This girl is playing a joke, isn’t she?
“Well don’t be shy Sera, I’m good company.” Strife says it for effect. To Sweiza it almost sounds like Strife has been jostled.
Strife tries again.
“You’ll at least tell me your Valkyrie name won’t you?”
Strife’s attention follow’s Sweiza’s gaze; the girl is looking at the living room. This disheartens Strife.
“Miss Sera, for such a voracious appetite you certainly have little to say.” Strife tries again. Sweiza’s eyes meet her gaze again. Sweiza fidgets once.
“I don’t remember.” This time Sweiza spits it out. This isn’t getting her anywhere.
Strife’s eyebrows perk, but she lets out a sigh.
“You were bedridden with the berserkergang for several days. Don’t tell me you are having memory issues as well?” Strife says it with a bit of concern.
Sweiza nods, “I think so.”
“Well then. In that case. I may be able to assist you.”
Sweiza blinks rapidly, several times. “What do you mean?”
“I am a Valkyrie in training myself. How would you like me to mentor you until you get your memory back? It will help keep busy and your mind off of things. It’s also good to have a companion.” Strife says it with her hands steepled together and off to the side of her right shoulder.
Sweiza blinks, “That might be a good idea.”
Strife’s eyes close once and she lets out a smile, “Splendid.”
Sweiza nods.
—
Teatime ends soon enough. Strife has Sweiza clean the table, the girl has no objections, especially being a guest in someone else’s home.
“You said I was berserkergang?” Sweiza says it holding a plate, halfway to the kitchen sink.
“Creamer container up in the second shelf of the open cupboard Miss Sera.”
Sweiza turns her attention back to Strife and then looks to the sink and then sees the open cupboard next to the window. She does as instructed and puts the creamer up on the second shelf. Coming back for the sugar, strife continues their conversation.
“You were protecting Southerly Village in the Aura Forest. You were quite adamant about it.”
“Who was I protecting it from?” Sweiza is puzzled by the statement. She doesn’t remember.
“Me.” Strife says it, and the girl is surprised by it.
“-You-?!”
“Yes Miss Sera. From you. You were quite tenacious in dealing with me, and I thought for sure I would have died. But you were apparently on the edge of your berserkergang and the bear left you. The Spritekin appraised me of the situation soon after.”
Sweiza shakes her head and shrugs with her hands open. She doesn’t remember any of this.
“I was under orders by Odin himself to exterminate the Spritekin. However, the Spritekin appraised me of the fact you were there as a Valkyrie two months before to stand guard. Apparently you gained their trust. I was very surprised.”
Sweiza is standing next to Strife at this point. Strife slowly stands up from her chair and places a hand on the girl’s left shoulder.
“I believe you when you say you lost your memory; I’ve heard of it happening with those that have their bear in them. My thoughts several days ago are the same as they are now. You somehow knew that I would be there and were countering Odin’s orders. This is of interest to me.”
Sweiza looks over at Strife, “How so?”
“For reasons I won’t get into quite just yet. I do believe in the Valkyrie mantra of ‘no secrets between Valkyrie’, but I don’t want you getting caught up completely in my affairs until you are ready; it might create more trouble than it is worth you must understand.”
Sweiza blankly nods.
Strife continues, “I feel I should honor your cautious demeanor.”
Sweiza nods again.
“Not to be abrupt Miss Sera, but much as my Valkyrie name is Strife, I do not believe you should be called Valkyrie Sera. It doesn’t have a very strong sound to it.”
Sweiza looks up briefly and her mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Are you -sure- you don’t remember your Valkyrie name?”
Sweiza shakes her head.
“Then, with that in mind. We have a few details about you already. You are careful, but also voracious and tenacious.”
Sweiza stares at her blankly.
Strife looks away from Sweiza to the grandfather clock adjacent to the stairwell. Sweiza follows her gaze, then looks back to Strife. Strife is clearly spaced out, but is mouthing the words. She finally stops. Sweiza waits there for what feels like too long. She is about to say something, but Strife interrupts her.
“Voracious, tenacious, careful…”
Sweiza looks to the grandfather clock, then to Strife, but Strife is still deep in thought.
“Sera…”
“What?” Sweiza jostles once, then Strife turns her (still seated) body towards her.
“Voracious, tenacious, careful Sera. How does Vorcera sound?”
Sweiza’s head sway’s from side to side. She doesn’t know what to make of it.
“I see. Not your style. Perhaps you need something more akin to your tenacity? Maybe something harder sounding?”
Sweiza tilts her head slightly.
“How about Vorkera?”
Sweiza’s blinks rapidly, while her head sways to the opposite side. She blinks several times in thought.
“I think so. That should work.”
Strife is standing by this point, “Splendind. However, as a Valkyrie, I feel you really should have something a bit more sophisticated than Sera. It sounds to childish, at least in my mind it does.”
Sweiza blinks at her again.
“Vera would be a fitting nickname to go by, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sweiza simply nods. It is close enojgh to ‘Sera’ so not as to jostle her mind or identity.
“Well then Sera, or should I say Miss Vera… I so rarely get company these days, I’m always beating the footpath or by myself. Shall we regress to the living room for reading hours?”
Sweiza recognizes it as a variant of ‘high speak’, but it sounds older. Sweiza simply nods. Strife turns around and waves her hand above her head and motions for Sweiza to follow her to the living room. Sweiza can feel as if something significant will happen, but only time will tell.