Chapter Eight

“Sten! You should be resting!” Sif hissed at the man when they pushed through the double doors together.

Sten grinned sheepishly at the little girl. Just then, Violet’s legs completely gave out and she fell, leaning heavily against her injured comrade. Sten eased her to the floor as best he could while minding his injuries.

“She’s not able to get around completely on her own yet,” Sten replied, helping Violet crawl to a low bench that sat on the side of the enormous hallway they’d entered.

“Why can’t you walk?” Sif asked Violet in consternation, her hands balling into fists as she rested them on her narrow hips, her sapphire blue gaze disapproving.

Violet glared at the waif in response.

“Otherworlders,” Sif snorted derisively, looking around frantically. “Will a walking stick help you?”

“Sif!” a deep voice boomed from the other end of the hall.

The little girl winced theatrically and turned to face it.

“Yes, All Father?”

“Where is your charge—Oh. There she is. Why are you sitting there? You should be in the Hall already. We’re announcing you,” Odin’s deep voice rumbled as he joined them.

“It seems the Lady Violet is unable to stand and walk on her own,” Sten reported, intervening so that Sif and Violet didn’t have to say anything else.

Odin regarded Violet appraisingly with his single eye. He knelt beside her and started inspecting her from head to toe. When he reached her lower spine, he let out a relieved breath.

“Ah. There. Your physical body is quite damaged and it’s similarly affecting your spirit,” Odin glumly sighed.

The wolf-head cane’s eyes glowed an eerie green as he pressed it against her spine, just above her highest lumbar vertebrae. Violet attempted to stand again and to her great relief, she was able to bear the weight on her own. She grinned at Odin and took a few testing steps.

“Oh that’s much better,” Violet gushed, feeling much less like an invalid. “Thank you, All Father.”

Odin wrapped a thickly corded arm around her shoulder and ushered her toward the dining hall. Sif and Sten followed silently, their gazes shocked as they looked at each other. Sten shrugged but Sif’s eyes narrowed as she looked toward Violet. She wasn’t quite sure what to think about her new charge yet and Odin’s behavior toward the new Valkyrie was especially out of character.

“Come, come. The lads are dying to meet you,” Odin cajoled as they reached the end of the long hallway.

He shouldered open the enormous double doors, carved in the striking likeness of a giant oak tree, and Violet gasped at the scene before them. The Hall, as Odin called it, appeared to be the biggest dining hall Violet had ever seen, let alone stepped into.

Massive stone pillars, at least a dozen on each side, framed the space. They easily stretched forty feet into the air above them to a high, vaulted dome ceiling. Above, stained glass windows adorned the dome, depicting scenes about which she knew nothing other than the fact that they were pretty. Three massive chandeliers hung over an enormous dining table that currently sat at least four dozen male warriors and another dozen women, all of whom looked to be warriors in their own rights. Odin seemed to disappear into thin air, only to suddenly reappear at the head of the table.

That’s a useful trick, Violet thought, looking around at the other faces in the room.

Freyja sat at the far end of the table and stood as soon as she saw Violet enter. She clapped her hands twice in sharp, clear, rapid succession and the din of the hall fell silent. Violet followed Sif, painfully aware of the scores of pairs of eyes that watched them move to join Freyja.

“My children!” Odin called as they finally reached the end of the table.

Sif placed an empty chair behind Violet, who stood to Odin’s left, then deftly disappeared into the shadows between the two nearest pillars.

“We sup tonight with a special guest of honor!” Odin bellowed, his eyes scanning every face at the table.

The room shook with the roar of their excitement, then fell silent at his gesture, his hand raised.

“Tonight we welcome a new shield maiden but an old soul here in Valhalla. Some of you may come to recognize her. Some of you knew her in ages in past. And now she has deigned to return to Valhalla at last!”

A collective gasp went around the room and all eyes turned to focus on Violet. She surreptitiously gulped and picked at a protruding link in the strange metal corset to distract herself from the sudden attention. That was, until she realized the silence had stretched on far longer than it needed to and she looked up to find Odin staring at her, an ear-to-ear grin shining out from beneath his beard.

“Welcome home, Gersemi!” he shouted, opening his arms to her.

“Skol!” several people hooted, and everyone took a drink from the tankards in front of them.

“Who?” Violet hissed at Odin. “That’s not my name!”

“It is, you’ve just forgotten,” Freyja quietly said, motioning for Violet to take her seat, as did she and Odin.

Violet’s head reeled as she complied with Freyja’s command. Had she just, you know, gone batshit crazy? Was any of this really happening? Had someone put those magic mushrooms in her food or something? What the hell was going on?

“So. We may have known you eons ago as Gersemi, but what are you going by now?” the seasoned-looking warrior who sat to her left asked once the chatter recommenced.

Violet took the tankard he slid to her and eyed it warily. She took a sip when she saw Freyja nod at her out the corner of her eye, then met the man’s gaze.

“Violet,” she quietly replied, wincing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat.

He barked a short, amused laugh and pounded a fist on the table, drawing the attention of those who sat in the immediate vicinity.

“You let them name you after a flower?” he chortled, bursting into peals of booming belly laughter.

“Shut up, Ragnar,” the man to his left said. “Your name literally means ‘Shaggy Britches.’”

Violet had lifted the tankard to her lips again by then and she couldn’t help the sudden snort of laughter that erupted in the wake of the statement. She set the tankard down heavily and covered her face with the back of her hand to hide the ensuing spray, but it was too late.

Half the table had seen and all of them joined in the raucous laughter of the second man who spoke. The first one to speak Violet learned was Ragnar. But she reserved the right thenceforth to refer to him as Shaggy, Britches, or both.

“And who might you be?” Violet asked the second man once the explosion of mirth had subsided.

“Erik,” the man replied, inclining his head and crossing his chest with his forearm.

Violet nodded in acknowledgement and found herself gaping at the plate of food placed before her. It was stacked high with sweet breads, tender looking meat with a dark sauce, a bed of odd looking greens, and some other assorted root vegetables.

It smelled delicious and her stomach nearly howled at the sight. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She looked up to observe the others around her, unsure of the dining etiquette in this strange new place. She’d traveled enough around Earth to know that different places had different customs.

She watched as plates were delivered to everyone at the table by beautiful, strong-looking women dressed in simple white or green shift dresses with metal link corsets on the outside. Violet noted the striking similarity of their design to the one she’d almost worn to dinner herself; had it not been for Sten’s quick warning.

“Wait until the King and Queen start eating. You can still imbibe your drink until then,” Sif said near Violet’s ear, startling her.

“Thank you, Sif,” Violet whispered.

She received no response so she returned to observing the behavior of those around her. It appeared that for the moment at least, the only women who sat at the table were Freyja and herself. There were enough empty seats scattered throughout those seated to make up for those serving.

Curious, Violet watched the women. They’d started passing out the food at the end of the hall closest to the door. If what Sif had told her was true, Violet deduced that the last ones to receive their food would be the King and Queen—who indeed were just receiving their meals then.

Odin watched as the women who’d served the meals sat back down at the table, refusing to touch his plate until the last of the maidens had returned to their seats. Once they’d sat, he picked up a fork and speared something on his plate, then almost joyfully popped it into his mouth. His single eye sparked with blue fire as he observed the scene before him, a smile on his face.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Baskets of freshly baked rolls were also passed around as the rest of the dinner party dug into the bounty before them, as well as flagons of various beverages.

“What kind of ale do you prefer?” Ragnar asked her then, snapping her attention back to him.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” Violet quietly replied, tasting the odd greens.

They were unpleasantly bitter and she decided not to eat any more of them. The corner of Ragnar’s mouth tugged up on one side, a cocky smirk that had her mentally scrambling for defense. He was trouble—she just knew it.

“Are you sure you weren’t adopted?” Shaggy Britches quipped.

Violet regarded him coolly and bit heartily into the dinner roll she’d grabbed from the basket a moment earlier.

“How many wives did you cheat on, again?” Violet found herself asking around the mouthful of bread.

Hoots and laughter broke out around the table amongst those close enough to hear. Odin’s deep, rumbling chuckle joined them and he grinned broadly at Violet. Freyja smiled too, winking at her when their eyes met again.

Violet clapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes flew wide as she finally realized she’d said that out loud and had no idea why she’d said it. She’d only just met the man moments before, hadn’t she?

“Where did that come from?” she asked, her voice muffled.

Ragnar’s coldly amused, ice blue gaze flitted to Odin, who bared his teeth in an eerily predatory grin.

“It’s her,” he grunted at the older man.

“I know,” Odin chirped merrily in response, sitting back in his seat, his chest puffed out in satisfaction.

Ragnar rolled his eyes and took a long, hearty swig from the tankard in front of him, then returned to eating.

“So, Violet. Why don’t you fill us in on what you’ve been doing as an occupation,” Odin suggested a few moments later.

Violet finished chewing the mouthful of food and swallowed, then took a long swig from whatever was in the tankard in front of her. It didn’t burn as much the second time. She cleared her throat before responding.

“I’m… A physical trainer.”

“What’s that mean?” Ragnar scoffed.

Violet decided that at the first opportunity, she was going to punch that man full in the face. Something about him irked her mercilessly and while she’d never been an overly aggressive or confrontational type of person, he flipped her violence switch with just a look.

“It means I decide how many miles you run, how much weight you lift, what food you eat, how much water you drink, how much sleep you get, and whether or not your worthless hide is ready to step into that cage and do battle,” Violet snapped at him.

The room fell silent. Her hands trembled but she steeled her nerves and continued eating as if nothing had happened.

“They have Valkyries on Earth?” Erik asked Odin. “As an occupation now?”

“She was easy to find this time,” Odin replied, ignoring the barb until he added a breath later, “Don’t insult my Valkyries or I’ll feed you to Gondul.”

Erik visibly shuddered and shook his head. Odin quirked a half grin and continued eating his own meal. Next to him, Freyja’s eyes narrowed at Erik and she watched him much the same way Violet imagined a wolf studied its prey for the rest of dinner.

“Sif, do be so kind as to show our new guest to her quarters,” Freyja said once the meal had finished and the women began clearing the table.

“This way,” Sif cordially instructed, pointing at a door to the side of the great hall.

Violet followed the waif through it and into a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

“Did you know Gersemi?” Violet asked, following the girl along the passage and up a seemingly endless spiral of stairs.

“Yes,” Sif replied.

Violet climbed a few steps, expecting more of an answer than one word. Sif stopped a moment later and turned to face her.

“You don’t act like her. Not yet. When you wake more, you will.”

Sif turned and continued up the stairs, beckoning for Violet to follow. Violet adjusted the sword belt on her hip, the weight foreign and uncomfortable, and resumed following. They finally came to a landing with a tall, heavy door and proceeded through it together.

Another magnificent hall greeted them, with the same impossibly large pillars, domed ceiling, and imposing stone archways. There were massive tapestries that hung from the ceiling, depicting strange scenes of battle, romance, and things Violet did not yet know how to comprehend. Several smaller, heavy wooden doors lined each side of the huge hallway at odd intervals. Violet followed Sif to the one at the very end and on the left.

“Through here are your chambers. My obligation to fulfill your needs for the evening are at an end. I will be back at sunrise to wake you and you will begin your Valkyrie training with Gondul and myself. Good night, Princess.”

And then, the waif just simply disappeared. Violet stood staring at the spot where Sif had been standing, bewildered and confused. After a moment, she sighed and pushed through the door, noting that it swung silently on invisible hinges as it opened.

The apartment, for lack of a better term, was larger than her condo. It boasted gray marble floors with plush looking rugs under the furniture and in the sitting room. It had a lavatory with a strange shower that had jets of water from the walls, ceiling, and floor. There was an enormous ebony writing desk stocked with paper, pens, and devices Violet had never before seen and therefore could only guess at their functions.

The bedroom was also huge and had a walkout patio which overlooked the harbor. The room was full of natural light thanks to the massive stained glass windows and a skylight built into the dome overhead. The sun had set and night began its dark ascent across the sky.

Violet walked out to the edge of the patio and leaned on the stone railing as she observed the harbor. Strange ships were moored on the water and even stranger still, there seemed to be ships sailing in the sky. Violet swore she even saw a winged horse go by, landing somewhere near the mountains, which loomed closely beyond the harbor.

When it finally became too dark to see, Violet went back into the bedroom and closed the patio’s stained glass doors behind her. She sat on the bed and looked around the room. The walls were polished stone. The floor marble. Tapestries adorned the walls here and there, blocks of color to break up the gray monotony.

The bed was a four-poster canopy bed that was low to the ground and the equivalent of a California King in size. The canopy was covered with gauzy light purple drapes that hung loosely around it, tied back in the corners by throngs of leather attached to the posts. The coverlet and pillows were white with gold thread, odd patterns sewn throughout.

Violet sat at the foot of the enormous bed and saw there was a huge wooden wardrobe across from where she sat. Next to her leg, there was a large wooden footlocker with ornately carved designs on its lid. She lifted the lid and looked inside.

“He finally tricked you into becoming one of his Valkyries, did he?” a male voice said from somewhere in the room, startling her.

Violet dropped the lid with a heavy thud and winced at the sound. She narrowly removed her fingers from its path in time to avoid them getting crushed. Violet lifted her gaze in the direction of the voice.

A tall, handsome, very muscular blond man with a full beard stood there, picking at his teeth with a small, wickedly sharp-looking knife. He lifted his gaze to meet hers and smiled warmly. He was dressed in some sort of odd, ice blue armor. He sheathed the knife at his belt when he saw he had her attention.

“I can see privacy isn’t a thing here,” Violet quipped in response.

The man chuckled, “You’re in the family wing. There’s no hiding from us.”

“What does that even mean?” Violet asked, folding her hands demurely in her lap and looking expectantly back at the man. “And who are you?”

The man laughed and sat next to her, his blue eyes strikingly similar to Odin’s.

“You’ve never heard of the god of Thunder? Thor?”

“Get out,” Violet said, pointing toward the door.

Thor laughed uproariously and slapped his knee.

“Uncanny!” he whooped. “It’s like you never left!”

“I have no idea what’s even going on!” Violet cried, pushing him away.

He righted himself, still laughing as he said, “Gers, you have always been a bitch.”

“My name isn’t Gers and I am not a bitch.”

“What are you calling yourself these days then, hmm?” Thor asked.

“Violet is my name. It’s always been my name,” Violet tersely replied, standing in agitation.

He watched as she paced at the foot of the bed, her eyes drinking in the details around her.

“Okay Violet. Tell me how you came here.”

Violet stopped, regarded him warily, and asked, “Why?”

Thor shrugged, then simply said, “Because I’m curious.”

“I don’t even know where here is,” she mumbled.

“Valhalla! Asgard! The land of Odin and spiritual resting place of warriors,” Thor boomed, opening his arms wide to encompass the whole of the land in his gesture.

“Okay, and how does one get here? Invitation only?”

He smirked at her and said, “Well, some of us were born here. Guess that’s why we’re gods.”

“I’m not a god.”

“Semantics. Fine. You’re a goddess,” he retorted.

Violet’s jaw dropped and she struggled to close it while also fighting to find a reply. He laughed good-naturedly and strode up to her, gently taking her by the shoulders.

“It will be so much better once you remember. Maybe I can help with that? I’m trying but doing a piss poor job. Mother is far better at these things. I don’t have the finesse,” he said, his expression earnest.

“What am I supposed to remember? Everyone keeps saying that,” Violet petulantly said.

Thor laughed again and guided her back to her former seat at the foot of the bed.

“You were my annoying big sister. You were obsessed with treasure. You were also quite the fighter, though you refused to join Odin’s forces or even Freyja’s.”

“I’m so not a fighter,” Violet laughed. “You’re making this up.”

He sighed wistfully then and pushed a stray strand of her dark hair away from her face. It was an intimate gesture and felt as though he’d done it many times instead of it just being the first. Violet cringed but she didn’t fully shy away.

Then, he grabbed the hilt of the sword at her hip and drew it. He moved to slash at her but as soon as the sword came within half an inch of her skin, white light erupted around her and the sword flew out of his hand and across the room. It landed near the patio doors with a resounding, echoing clatter that made the whole room hum like a struck bell in its wake.

“What the hell!” Violet cried, glaring at him. “You tried to kill me!”

“You cannot be killed by your own sword,” Thor smugly stated, walking over and picking up the weapon.

He gingerly handed it back to her and she sheathed it, noting again how the thing seemed to thrum when she touched it.

“Now. How did you come here?”

Violet sighed and pushed her hair out of her face again, suddenly aware that it flowed loosely around her shoulders. She normally didn’t wear it down because it agitated her.

“I was… Getting ready to host a dinner. I’d just gotten home and my brother and my… My boyfriend were coming over. I was putting the groceries away and there was this strange man. Then there was this like, raven woman? She asked me if I’d choose to heed the raven’s call or die.”

“Ah, yes. Gondul,” he said, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

“Gondul,” Violet agreed. “Then I woke up and Odin was there. He showed me the hospital room where my body lay and my boyfriend…”

“Who is your boyfriend?”

“His name is Peyton and he’s a fighter,” Violet said. “We just started dating. He’s my little brother’s best friend and it’s just…”

She fought the sob that threatened to overtake her and angrily swiped at her eyes. Thor’s arm went about her shoulders and he held her against him.

“I need to get back,” she whispered when she had control of her voice again.

“You already want to leave? But you just got home!” Thor laughed.

“This isn’t my home. I don’t know this place. I don’t know anyone here. This is all just some fucked up fever dream and I’m in a coma.”

Thor sighed and released her, then stood. He stretched languidly and moved his head so that his neck cracked a couple of times.

“I like going to Earth. You have hot dogs, ice cream, and there’s even some places with decent beer. It’s not as fun as it used to be but if it pleases you, I’ll help you in your quest to return.”

“You would do that?” Violet asked, incredulous.

“You’re my sister. Of course,” he said, leaning toward her to ruffle her hair. “I’m in the next apartment over if you need anything. For now, try to get some rest. They’re done taking it easy on you and tomorrow is going to be brutal.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Violet quietly said.

“Good night, Violet,” Thor pleasantly replied with a bow, crossing his arm over his chest.

She watched him disappear through the bedroom’s doorway and turned her attention back to the wardrobe. Deciding she’d rather be prepared than comfortable, she remained in her current clothing ensemble and settled down on the bed in an attempt to sleep.