Omaha Beach
Normandy, France
June 6, 1944
The sea was red with blood as the valkyrie strode among the dead.
Listening to the gentle swish-swish of the waves breaking out on shore, she could almost pretend she was standing in Pools of Lior on Alfheim if she closed her eyes.
Instead, the waves broke out on steel I-beams and dismembered bodies.
Soldiers and medics wondered the beach, picking out their dead. They passed by Aeron focused on their task, oblivious to the valkyrie that stood among them.
Aeron was used to the scenes of battle on Midgard. She'd walked on the surface of Midgard since the time of the Vikings. She'd been a Midguardian once. But, now she was a Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain, Warden of Asgard, in the service of the Allfather. It was her duty to reap the souls that were worthy enough to enter the Halls of Valhalla.
Many mortal men had forgotten the name of Valhalla. They'd replaced the Allfather with another god, an untouchable one, a metaphysical one. Still, the Allfather preferred it this way and so Aeron obliged him as did all her Sisters.
Still, this was why Choosings were slow and required patience. Aeron only stopped at a body if she felt the Connection. The requirements into Valhalla were many and the expectations steep. The men (and women) she chose would go on to serve the House of Odin. They needed valor, of course, but above all other requirements, they needed honor, to abide by the code of morality. Aeron had seen many men of valor but few that were truly honorable.
Aeron paused by the body of a young man who can't have been older than eighteen. He lay on his back with his eyes open, not yet clouded over by old death. Half of his torso had been blown away and his innards spilled out onto the sand like eels. She'd seen him during the battle, watched him struggle against the surf as he fought his way out of the water. Then, his friend had been shot in the leg and he'd grabbed the man by the scruff of his collar and dragged him along, refusing to leave anyone behind. That was when a pipe bomb had landed three feet from him. He'd thrown his body over his injured friend but it didn't matter. They'd been killed anyways.
Aeron knelt beside him and kissed his lips, breathing life back into his soul.
His eyes opened.
"Am I dead?" It wasn't a question.
"Not yet," Aeron rose. She could feel the wings on her back fan out behind her. The young man's eyes widened and he propped himself up on his elbows, staring transfixed.
"Are you an angel?" He breathed.
"I am a Valkyrie from the Realm Eternal. I have come to guide you onwards,"
"Onwards?" he said, beginning to look around. "Onwards where?"
This was the hardest part of reaping. Most Midguardians didn't take the news of their imminent death well. Some men cried, others begged her. Aeron didn't think this young man would do either. He was tough as nails.
So just replied with all the formalities of conducting business.
"By the grace of Odin Allfather, King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms, you have been welcomed into the Halls of Valhalla. You will be rewarded for your valor and honor on the promise that you protect and serve the House of Odin,"
"The House of what?" The young man began then he shook his head as if he were trying to forget a bad memory. She could see it in his face, this isn't the way it is supposed to be. "I just wanna go home. Take me home," The young man's voice cracked.
"You cannot go home, your body is destroyed," Aeron could feel impatience creep into her voice. Perhaps, she had misjudged him. Maybe he would cry. She waved to his torso. "You have two choices, to follow me to the Halls of Valhalla and become a soldier of Asgard, the Realm Eternal or to Freyja and dwell in the fields Fólkvangr, the resting place for warriors who fought bravely in battle. One path will lead you to a new life, to eternal glory, the other to eternal peace. The choice must be yours but you must make it now,"
The young man sighed and looked away, thinking. His eyes swam with tears that threatened to fall. Aeron tried to wait patiently but she could help but feel a flicker of annoyance. Men always thought they'd gotten the short end of the stick. She'd seen women choose without so much as a waver in their voice. Women who'd been in much less of a greater position than the young man before her. Would he really be suitable for Valhalla? Had she chosen incorrectly.
"What about my buddies, Jim or Nathan? Carver? Did they make it?" He insisted. The young man stood up now, leaving his body behind on the beach.
"I am not an oracle. I only see one man at a time. You are first of the many I have come to collect. There are others that are waiting,"
Be patient, be empathetic, Brunhild's voice was in her ear, it is your duty to explain their choices, to answer their questions.
Duty.
She was first and foremost a Valkyrie. She would fulfill her duty with no complaints, no judgements, no impatience and execute it with valor and honor. Valor and Honor. Aeron stood up straighter and grasped her banner pole proudly.
A strange light filled the youth's eyes as they slipped past her face and out to the horizon. His eyebrows furrowed and he wiped his tears away. He'd made up his mind but she could tell he had one more question left.
"Will I see my family again?" He whispered.
An iron fist squeezed around her heart and the echoes of longing crept out from a hidden box she'd locked away. They all asked this question. It was nothing new. She'd asked it herself when the valkyrie had come for her on the battlefield.
Yet after all these long years of service to Asgard, Aeron still felt the young man's pain, his longing for home, to feel the arms of those he loved around him, to feel safe. She'd felt his pain every day for the last thousand years. The least she could do was tell him the truth. He'd deserved the truth.
"No," She said, keeping her face stony and passive. "you will not,"
The young man paused again. Then, he closed his eyes. The sound of the sea filled the silence.
After a moment, he opened his eyes. They had already changed color as the last of his mortality slipped away. He cleared his throat.
"Valhalla," his voice broke and he cleared it, this time looking determined, almost defiant "I chose Valhalla,"
Aeron gave him a sad smile. "Valhalla it is," She stepped towards him and rested her hand on his shoulder. A ray of light shot down from the sky and his soul disappeared in a brilliant, bright blue light.
She watched the first of her souls go. How many men had she delivered? How many had she ripped apart from their families, from the ones that they loved? The Halls of Valhalla were reserved only for fallen warriors, nothing more nothing less. Even in death, a great warrior shall never be reunited with his earthly family. It was the price to pay.
Behind her, Aeron could hear the Bifrost open and the sounds of a valkyrie descending from Asgard. Aeron felt relieved. There were nearly nine-thousand men lying on the beach, awaiting their turn. Most would go to Freyja. The valkyrie didn't offer the same choice Aeron had just given the young man to every soldier who had died. Still, those that were Chosen, needed time to decide. Time that could be doubled if Aeron had another Valkyrie at her side.
Lo, they do call to me,
They bid me take my place among them
In the Halls of Valhalla,
Where the brave shall live forever,
Where thine enemies have been vanquished,
Nor shall we mourn but rejoice,
For those who have died
The glorious death
The valkyrie Brunhild said and stood by Aeron's side. They greeted one another with a slight bow of the neck and a fist over their heart. The two surveyed the gruesome scene of battle.
The Midguardians called it justice but it was slaughter. With each passing century, their machines of war became more and more efficient at killing and the twenty-first century was by far the most terrifying. Human had made vehicles of steel and iron, bombs that leaked poisonous gas, guns that never ran out of bullets, flamethrowers, U-boats, and fighter planes. How much more death and destruction could they bring down upon themselves until it was too late?
"This is not glorious, Brunhild," Aeron said darkly. Her thoughts turned briefly to the camp she'd visited yesterday. It had been a small uprising in a Jewish ghetto—a battle for them but not for their enemy.
"It is not in our place to judge them, we are here for one purpose only," Brunhild reminded her. "We have been chosen by the Allfather to collect souls for his armies, nothing more, nothing less. Let us do our duty and be done with it,"
Aeron agreed with her modre. She had a job, a duty, and she would see it through to the end.
XXXX
Loki Odinson walked among the statues of fallen gods. Each one was molded from gold and gleamed in the setting Asgardian sun. They towered above him, staring down with screaming faces forever caught in the moment of their greatest triumph or with heads bowed in stoic solemnity—a tribute to their contributions of wisdom.
Loki longed to touch them, to hold their own fierceness in his palm and capture it for his own. He wanted their passion, their wanton desire for battle, for blood and honor. But, he had none of their bravery, none of their physical prowess.
We are not mortal and yet we still bleed. We are immune to age but not to death. Remember this, and you remember there are forces in this universe that a far greater than you. Pride is the downfall of men. Do not let it be the downfall of you, do not let it be the downfall of Asgard, the Allfather had told Loki and Thor when they were young.
Thor looked upon the faces of the fallen gods and laughed.
Look at them, Loki. Thor had said to him years later when he was already known as the fiercest warrior throughout the kingdom. They are here because they were weak, because they died. I will never be a statue in these halls because I will always win my battles, I will live because I am strong.
Behind the Allfather's back, Thor had always called the Hall of the Gods, the Hall of Fools. Sif, Fandral and Volstagg all agreed as did Loki but secretly, he'd wanted a statue to be made of him. He wanted Asgardians to look up at him the same way they looked at the Allfather—the way they were beginning to look at Thor—and admire him, desire to be like him. They would say how bravely he had fought in battle, how strong he was, how smart he was.
Thor was right in the end. The gods in this hall were fools. They had died, they had lost and as admirable as they were the dead don't live. Loki wanted to live. He wanted the universe to shout back his name in unison. He wanted to be stronger than Thor and wiser than the Allfather. The Nine Realms would look upon Loki and fear his wrath but above all: love him.
"Careful Loki, don't stare too hard or you'll turn to stone," The deep laughter or Thor echoed off the hallways and a rough arm pulled Loki into an awkward embrace. Loki could feel his cheeks grow hot.
"You're back so soon?" Loki tried not to look embarrassed. Thor let him go and turned to look up at the statues Loki had been studying. "I guess I don't even need to ask who won?" Loki let a smile slide across his face.
Thor grinned. "You should have been there. The arena was filled with almost everyone from the capitol. Even Father was there—you know how rare that is,"
Loki raised his eyebrows. "Father went to your match?" He hoped he didn't sound jealous. Loki could care less if the Allfather made time to watch his son fight in the games.
"And Mother, too," Thor leaned against the base of a statue of Sol, the sun goddess. "Everyone was there," Where were you? Thor's eyes asked. Loki could hear the accusation in his brother's voice and he wondered if it was concern or hurt. Or suspicion.
Loki reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim, silver key. He held it out for Thor to see. It was the key to Odin's wine and ale collection, a room filled with the best malt and port in the Nine Realms.
Thor's eyes widened and Loki could tell the suspicion or hurt—whatever it was—evaporated, instead replaced by delight. How easily distracted.
"You got it," Admiration danced in Thor's shallow blue eyes. He let out another deep laugh and clapped Loki on the back. "How in Valhalla did you manage to convince the Ale-master to give it to you?"
Thor reached for it but Loki pulled his hand back and smiled dangerously.
"I'll give it to you on one condition, dear brother," Loki said, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, what do you want this time? Another book for your collection?" Thor crossed his arms. Loki could see the suspicion returning.
"Save me a bottle," Loki grinned and hit his brother back on his arm. The tension was eased and Thor gave a booming laugh and drew Loki in again, crushing him in the corner of his arm. He rubbed his knuckles into Loki's scalp, ignoring Loki's cries of pain.
"Of course, little brother, I shall bring back the finest wine in Valhalla. But, will you not join us tonight?"
"I've a lesson tonight," Loki reminded Thor.
"Ah yes, with mother?" There was a hint of mockery in Thor's voice.
Loki knew Thor never thought much of learning magic. He preferred brawn over brains. Loki heard Sif and the Warrior's Three laugh at him behind his back. They thought it was so very suiting of the youngest prince of Asgard, the "trickster". They'd laughed at Loki until Thor told them that it was the Queen of Asgard herself who taught Loki magic. Then, they'd stopped laughing but only when they thought Thor wasn't nearby.
"Then, come with me to the entry of the Einherjar in Valhalla tomorrow!" Thor's face lit up, suddenly excited. "They say the valkyries have chosen well this season,"
On the mention of valkyries, Loki's stomach suddenly dropped and he could feel his heart begin to flutter in his chest. He tried to push the feeling away.
"Perhaps I shall, brother," Loki said.
"Good, well, enjoy your lessons then," Thor straightened up, ready to leave. Clearly, he was on to better things. "I am off to the bath house. I'll save you a bottle!"
Loki waved goodbye, glad Thor hadn't pushed too hard to discover why Loki was absent from the arena today. He'd distracted Thor with the key he'd stolen from the Ale-master a week ago but soon Loki's absences would increase and he would need to find a better excuse. One for Thor, one for the Allfather and one for his mother.
Loki gazed back up at the golden statue of Sol and Mani. They'd been killed by two giant wolves who'd chased them across the sky: Skoll and Hati. How foolish, Loki thought disdainfully. Then, Loki sauntered off towards the palace.
He'd had much more important things to do than reflect and reminisce in the Hall of Fools.