VI.

Jacqueline and Fiona were lounging on their bed, with the Rogue's head nestled against the Amazon's stomach as the Askari was gently caressing her lover's hair, slowly threading her fingers through the ginger-red tresses. Having sated their immediate hunger for each other, they chose to simply stay close, enjoying the warmth and sense of safety, for the future was weighing heavily upon both of them. The campaign was drawing to an end – the two warrior women, aided by the infallible Valkyrie, have bested the Ancients in battle, but this trial took what remained of their strength for the day, and even though they could have pushed on before the night fell, they opted to return to Harrogath. After spending the first half of the evening in the populated quarters, having praise heaped upon them by Qual-Kehk and the others, they retreated to the baths to wash off the sweat and blood (and to unwind), then sneaked quietly back into their quarters. The almost customary recreation ensued, but the mood was not nearly as carefree as even during their previous night together.

"Tomorrow we'll have to move against Baal at last", Fiona noted out of the blue, a hint of trepidation in her voice. She rose from her enticing headrest to look Jacqueline in the eyes.

"Yes, and we will ensure he does not see the next nightfall", the Amazon replied, seriousness abruptly returning to her face to replace the expression of languid contentment.

"I... I'm afraid, Jacqueline. We've battled Diablo together but I barely escaped with my life back then, even with the others fighting by our side, and again when you killed Nihlathak. Though you must be disappointed now that I admitted that, are you not?" the Rogue shook her head.

"Admitting one's fear is not a disgrace", the blonde woman said soothingly, running her fingers down her friend's cheek. "We've seen through so much by now that I'm confident we'll both be fine. If we conquered Diablo and Mephisto, we'll surely beat their brother. It won't be easy, of course, but... he may be cunning yet he's not invincible. No one is".

"Will you remember me if I -" the Rogue started tentatively, only to have her words cut short by the Amazon's decisive retort.

"Don't even speak of this. We will prevail, or we will fall, together... because I have more in store for the two of us, my dear. I'm many things but flighty isn't one of them".

Knowing that she had to mix words of authority with other means of encouragement (and distraction), Jacqueline abruptly changed her tactic.

"Come here, Fiona. Turn over and I'll give you something we've never tried just yet", the Askari smiled seductively, and the Rogue obliged without thinking for long. She did not regret it.

"Ooooooh..."

Had the Valkyrie been still human, she would have gasped as the mental image flared before her – the muscular yet so very alluring naked body of her champion slithering sensually over the back of her companion, caressing the other girl with her entire torso. The Amazon was doing her best to please her beloved and, through this, lift her spirits before the inevitable last battle. But it was neither indignation, nor envy and nor wonderment that the spirit emissary was feeling now, but ironclad recognition. The memory of having been in this exact predicament surged through her mind, flashing almost painfully – the vision of two young women with fair hair sitting by the campfire, then one of them moving her hand along the other's cheek and kissing her friend softly on the lips, then... The images started changing faster and faster, eventually becoming just vignettes frozen in time – though each more explicit than the next, leading to the one where one of the women was treating the other to exactly the same thing Jacqueline was now subjecting Fiona to. It was an old erotic technique familiar to the Askari, and the Valkyrie now realized that once she had not only known of it, but also practiced it with...

The last thing to come back to her was the name. But it was not her own.

"Randgrid..."

The spirit woman was broken out of her reverie by a hapless axe-wielding Horror wandering aimlessly across the hall while waiting for a new battle, and nearly bumping into her. Only a massive effort of will stopped her from slamming her fist into the grinning skull of the undead creature, but she made a mental note to have the delinquent skeleton placed on the frontline as a meat shield (or an equivalent thereof, given the lack of any meat on the sickly grayish bones) in the morning. Just what she would have learned if she had not been interrupted, she thought sourly.

But she remembered now. She remembered her love, and how Randgrid had been taken from her. Or, to be more precise, how she was torn from Randgrid and cast into death... and then this supernatural existence. Ironically it was not a demon that ended the future Valkyrie's earthly existence, but the hand of a human adversary – a deranged spellcaster, at that, whose spells of ice blasted her material body to shreds. She recollected the anguish, and her burning final desire to protect her lover – and, by extension, her nation they both represented – before oblivion claimed her... only to part its jaws some indefinite time later, leaving her... a Valkyrie of legends. Was that ambition the trigger that tore her out of death's embrace and into her now eternal vigil of protecting the Askari... any Askari that had the need for her aid and the power to call on her?

She could remember almost all of it now. The taste of her beloved's lips, the feeling of the other's skin against hers, the reflection of sundown in her eyes as they were once standing on the seashore, hands entwined, and pondering the future – the future that was not to come. She knew nearly everything – except her own name. But did it matter in the end?

And she could not know what happened to Randgrid. Was she alive? How much real time had even passed in the Sanctuary since her demise? Was her love dead? She tried to remember her fellow Valkyries but none seemed to match her description (even though she was fairly sure the warrior of Randgrid's prowess would be inevitably uplifted after her death). Not one showed any signs of ever remembering anything concrete, either – that was unheard of. If Randgrid was alive, what was she feeling... has she gotten over the loss, finding solace in someone else's presence – and embrace? The Valkyrie knew she could not – and would not – blame her earthly love in the slightest if she had. The living belong with the living, the dead with the dead, the ethereal... with the ethereal, of course. Even if she had miraculously been thrust into her company again – by answering her summons in combat, even though the chance of this happening was, to put it mildly, very slim – she would not have had any claim to her. She was not even sure she appeared very much like she did in life. How could she tell that if she hadn't even remembered who she was?