Chapter Two

The wind was picking up.

Beca adjusted her wings, letting the change in speed buoyed her up for a moment before she found that sweet spot where she can glide freely with her wings outspread. It was getting hotter – the noon sun can be brutal on a clear day like this and she would sweat profusely in her leather jumpsuit. She would just do a round or two before heading back and hopefully Aubrey would be busy harassing someone else and forgot all about her.

That was a close call just now. She could have been trapped in an audience with Father.

Not that Beca minded speaking to him. Despite his stern looks and the rather unnerving way he would stare down with his one good eye, Odin had always been rather kind and fair. Beca was sure she had been behaving well lately and was not in any sort of trouble, but just like the others, she could not help being a tiny bit nervous when summoned to his formal hall.

She has Amy to thank for saving her. And speaking of the blonde, Beca spied the buxom babe sitting astride her winged horse just below. Beca tucked her wings in, barrelling down like a hawk and at the last moment, she spread her wings. Her toes touched the ground and she gracefully took the descent in a run, flapping her wings to slow down.

Amy turned round as soon as she felt the wind buffeting. She watched as Beca slowed to a halt before those magnificent wings flapped one last time and retracted nearly on her back. Beca had already removed the much hated helmet and was shaking her hair out as she walked towards Amy. Amy threw a small canteen of water at her and Beca caught it neatly. She took a deep gulp before capping it back and handing it back.

"Thanks for that," Beca said gratefully. "And for just now."

"Eh. It's ok," Amy answered. "You both looked like you were about to wrestle each other. So I thought I stepped in."

They both were standing at the edge of a cliff, staring out at the land stretched out below them. It was dismal. Huge tracts of the verdant land were now laid to waste. Once, these were fertile lands, green pastures and meadows, with golden waves of grain rippling in the wind but all of that were destroyed. They did not stand a chance under the constant trampling of hooves, of trundling war machines and men marching and fighting and killing. At some point in the comings days and weeks, a fresh wave of soldiers will meet yet again to fight another battle. They were gearing up now behind their lines, raring to fight, roused by the thought of glory. Yes, war was glorious and going to war to protecting your land and loved ones was noble. Not every one of those soldiers would be entirely sure why they were fighting but they would still meet in bloody battle.

Many will be hurt.

Many will be slain.

And only the brave, the deserving from the dead will be greeted and raised up to Valhalla to take their rightful place amongst the heroes.

The two Valkyries stared impassively at the destruction before them. Both had lost count how many battles they had witnessed, how many warriors they had brought with them to pass the threshold, through the golden gates of Valhalla.

"This is pretty shit, isn't it?" Beca scoffed. She shook her head. Men could be so stupid. She had been through so may wars to know how fruitless it all can be.

"Not our job to judge," Amy said. She jammed her horned helmet on. "I'm only here for the hot men who sit behind me on my horse and feel my goodies."

"Amy!"

"What?" Amy answered. "It's true. They get all excited when they see these melons coming towards then and believe me, babe, ALL of them wanted to cop a feel."

"Ugh. I don't need to know that."

Beca's face was a mix of horror and revulsion and Amy just laughed.

"See you later, Beca," Amy wheeled her winged horse round. "And don't forget. Chloe told us all to be back soon."

"Ok."

That simple answer seemed to be enough. Amy spurred her steed on and with yet another aria, she brought the horse into a gallop before swirling up into flight. Beca watched until the sun was shining too bright into her eyes and she had to look away. She had to go soon. Actually if she wanted to complete her flight and get back on time like Chloe wanted, she would have to leave right about now.

Beca peered at the control pad strapped on her forearms. A few quick taps and she had programmed the flight. She paused, frowning at the pad again. The cloaking device should have automatically kicked in but she was still there, visible to the naked eye. Beca tapped the controls again and shook it twice for good measure. This time it worked. She heard that familiar buzz and knew the cloaking device had worked. And once she spread her wings, Beca ran off the cliff and started to fly.

This was her favourite part.

The land beyond just now was destruction. But if she headed east, behind the lines, behind the army camps lying in seemingly never ending rows, behind the buffer zones, the thick walls and several fortifications, so far away from the front lines, there was a shadow of what the lands were once like. Although perhaps not the same as it was decades ago, people still sowed and tilled the land. People still lived and laughed and loved. And best of all, they still sang. Beca liked to fly past, unseen, marvelling at the smiles on their faces, at the stoic way they still go on with their everyday lives despite the war happening.

It was life-affirming.

After a difficult day hauling warriors up to Valhalla, it felt like a balm on her parched soul. She would stand invisible, watching a mother hug her child or a man smiling warmly at a woman and how the woman would blush and smile back. Beca was fascinated. She had no hope of having or feeling anything like that. She belonged to a different world.

There was once she thought it could happen.

The warrior she was assigned to was beautiful. And blonde. And exceptionally brave. Definitely deserving of a place in Valhalla. She had watch him as he fought many battles, winning every time but even the bravest, strongest warrior will meet his death.

And she had been so excited to finally bring him up.

He had smiled at her when she appeared, like he knew this was his fate. She could hardly stop smiling and she wrapped her arms around him tightly before her wings took them up.

"What's your name?" he asked in a husky tone, beautiful green eyes staring at her.

"Beca," she had answered almost shyly.

"It's a beautiful name," he murmured, his lips curved into a heartbreaking smile. "I will never forget you."

Except he did.

Once he crossed the threshold and welcomed to the Great Hall, he forgot everything. Like all the other warriors who came before and those who would come after. They would recover from their injuries, be on their best physical form and would join the many others before them, carousing and drinking mead under the golden glow of a thousand candles in the Great Hall. But they would forget everything of their former life. Beca had passed by him so many times in the hall and not a flicker of recognition crossed his face.

She was fine after a long while.

She had to learn the lesson the hard way but she had learnt it well. Handmaidens of Odin, his divine daughters, were supposed to be brave and strong and above all, pure. That was what made them immortal. By some strange twist of fate, she had been chosen for this life and all that came with it. It was foolish of her to think something like love could happen to her.

Beca shook her head. She was getting maudlin, remembering something that happened so long ago. The sun was dipping west. It was already afternoon and she was so far out east. She had stopped to rest, perching on a stout branch of this old oak and now it was time to go. She jumped off the high branch, spreading her wings. They flapped once, twice and she was in flight. She skimmed low on the ground, her wings barely brushing past this hedge of trees.

Beca was about to surge forward to pick up some height when she heard it. It was a snatch of a song, hummed by a man. Normally she would shake it off. She heard many, many things, especially when she was invisible but the tune was tugging at her mind. It was somewhat familiar, like a memory just out of reach. Beca was curious and she wanted to stop but it was too late. Her silent wings were already picking up speed, leaving eddies of wind behind and Beca shot straight up into the sky.

That took him by surprise.

Jesse Swanson turned round, purely by instinct. He was just walking along this copse of trees, minding his business, humming a tune when he felt that strong buffet of wind coming from the other side of the hedge. His training had kicked in. His senses were on alert to any danger but there was nothing. The air was still once more and besides the chirping of some birds nearby, it was really quiet.

After another careful look, Jesse turned back and continued his journey home. His uncle would be expecting him. He had hung around the academy a little longer than he should, hoping to get a chance to talk to iris. It was difficult when she was always surrounded by her girlfriends; all of them casting him knowing looks and laughing behind their hands.

That had been really annoying.

It was not as if they were teenagers. They should be able to just go up to each other and talk. He had been out on a few dates with her already and he thought those dates went well. She even let him kiss her on their third date. She was blonde and gorgeous and Jesse was smitten. Just when he thought he could ask her for something more serious, he found her being very friendly to that idiot, Anthony. They went out on dates, he later found out and Jesse thought that was the end of it. But iris swung between being nice to him and ignoring him. Jesse could not figure out why.

Jesse was mulling this over when he heard that excited shout and a high pitched voice calling out his name. "Jesse! Jesse!" A young girl about seven, was racing down the lane, brunette curls bouncing, screaming out his name and Jesse's face broke into a huge grin. She was running up to him and Jesse stooped down, his arms opened wide and with a leap, the little girl jumped straight into him. The impact made him grunt a little. That turned into a laugh as Jesse looked down at the excitable girl who was grinning up at him.

"Jesse!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Happy to see me, Sara?" Jesse replied, hugging his little sister tight.

She squirmed a little in his arms.

"You are late! I've waited for hours!" she complained.

"Not that late," Jesse tried to placate her. Seeing her pout, Jesse laughed. "If you get down, I might have something for you."

The pout disappeared in an instant, replaced with a cheeky grin. Sara scrambled down and waited impatiently as Jesse made a big show of patting his pockets before drawing out a pink and purple bead bracelet from his inner pocket. Sara squealed in happiness and Jesse had to laugh at the eager way she clasped the present in her hands and then begged Jesse to help her put it on.

He obliged.

Jesse looked fondly at his sister playing with the bracelet as they walked up the lane. He patted her messy hair and then noticed her ribbons were askew and there was dirt on her cheeks.

"Why are you so messy?" he said, trying to rub the dirt off. "Aunt May will have a fit."

"I was waiting for you in the bushes. I wanted to surprise you," Sara said accusingly. "But you took so long."

Jesse loved his sister to death. She was the smallest and there was a wide age difference between them but since the death of their parents and two other siblings between them, they only had each other. When the tragedy happened, Jesse was seventeen and Sara, three. Jesse was supposed to take over as eldest of the Swanson but he were too beset with grief with the ruins of his and Sara's lives. Sara was still too small and it was decided they should live with their aunt and uncle.

They were in front of the grand house now and one of the maidservants flew out, heading straight for Sara. "Miss Sara! How messy you are!" the servant clucked. "And you've just had a bath!" She tried to pat the dust off the little girl and Jesse watched in amusement as Sara wriggled and grumbled. But that grin slid off his face when the servant looked up at him and said. "The Baron is waiting for you, Master Jesse. He had been waiting for you for some time."

She tried sneaking in.

Beca thought she was being very clever, coming in through the lower gardens heading towards the kitchens. Only the gardeners, the servants and the cooks were there. She, however, severely underestimated how nosy Aubrey could be. Beca was about to slip up the stairs towards the upper levels when she walked into Aubrey closely questioning one of the cooks about the turnips used for tonight's meal.

"No, no, no," Aubrey said, tapping the pen in her hand against her clipboard for extra emphasis. "You have to tell me. Why are we using them for the turnip soup?"

The cook looked baffled. "Because they are turnips, ma'am."

Beca held her breath and froze on the spot. She gingerly stepped back but it was too late. Aubrey looked up at that precise moment and Beca knew she was in trouble. Aubrey looked a little surprised to see Beca sulking round the kitchens but she recovered magnificently. "Brynhilde!" Aubrey barked out, turnips now forgotten.

Ah shit.

"Ah... Umm...Hello, Bree," Beca stammered. "I didn't know you'll be here." Her eyes looked round wildly for an escape route. There was none. Aubrey was already stalking towards her, clicking her pen shut while the cook literally ran off as soon as Aubrey turned away, nearly dropping the suspicious turnips

"You're a mess! " Aubrey hissed, towering over her, clipboard in hand. "Father wanted to see you. But before that, you are going to the Quartermaster and getting your official uniform."

With a firm grip on Beca's arm, Aubrey wheeled her around and frogmarched her out of the kitchens towards the armoury. Beca was about to protest but one icy glare from Aubrey shut her up. It would be quicker to let Aubrey have her way. For now. Beca was literally dragged into the armoury. As soon as they entered through the heavy doors, the smell of brass, metal and oil hit their noses. Aubrey released Beca's arm and carefully stood in front of the door to prevent an escape. Beca was just rubbing her upper arm where Aubrey had her in a death grip just now.

"Hey Beca!" Cynthia-Rose, the quartermaster beamed up from behind her counter. She was a short, powerful woman with a close crop of hair and had been in charge of the armoury for as long as Beca can remember. "How's my girl?"

Beca was about to answer when Aubrey cleared her throat loudly. "Cynthia-Rose, do you have Byrnhilde's uniform, please?" She flipped through he papers on her clipboard, stopping at a yellow page. "I ordered it specially two weeks ago."

Beca was pleading mutely at Cynthia-Rose. No way was she going to wear that indecent short skirt. Or that moulded golden breastplate. That was just to horrific for words. She would freeze to death when she flies. Cynthia-Rose caught the look and tried to hide her grin.

"Ah..umm..Yes. That," Cynthia hemmed and hawed. She pretended to pore over some notes on the terminal. "There is a problem with that."

Aubrey's nostril flare could scare even the toughest orc.

"What do you mean there is a problem?" Aubrey said, her voice so sharp it could slice through glass.

"Umm... the blacksmiths thought the measurements were wrong," Cynthia-Rose said. "The waist to boobs ratio. They thought no one that small could have such big boobs."

Beca consciously crossed her arms across her chest while Cynthia-Rose kept a straight face. Aubrey's, however, was a picture.

"This is a travesty! Father will hear of this," Aubrey declared. She clicked her pen again and wrote furiously on her clipboard, almost ripping the paper in the process. "Can you fit Brynhilde with a skirt, at least?"

Thankfully, Aubrey was interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

"There you are, Beca!" Three sets of eyes swivelled to the doorway and there stood a woman with an infectious smile and curly red hair. She stepped into the armoury, waving her arms. "I've been looking all over for you! You are late. Didn't Amy tell you to come back early?"

"Kara -" Aubrey started, formally addressing the newcomer with her Norse name.

"Chloe. Call me Chloe, Bree," the redhead answered back, with a roll of her blue eyes. "I know Kara means 'the curly one' but for goodness sake, you've known me for two millenia. Call me Chloe."

Aubrey was opening and shutting her mouth. Chloe whirled around and grabbed Beca on her arm, making the tiny brunette squealed.

"Come on, you are late," Chloe said, tugging her along.

Aubrey seemed to found her voice and piped up, "Hang on! Where are you going, Beca? You still have to get your regulation skirt -"

"Father wants to see her, Bree," Chloe interrupted. "We don't want to keep Father waiting, do we?"

Aubrey was choking visibly now but she recovered quickly. "Yes. Yes, we can't keep Father waiting -"

"Come on," Chloe said and with one final tug, she hauled Beca out of the armoury leaving a very confused Aubrey and a decidedly amused Cynthia-Rose.

It was not until they were in front of the Odin's formal chambers did Chloe let Beca's arm go.

"Go on," Chloe said, shoving Beca forward. "Father's waiting inside."

Beca was looking bewildered. "Is this for real? I thought you were trying to stop me murdering Aubrey back there."

Chloe was chuckling at the expression on Beca's face. "Yes, I was. But Father wants to see you. No questions; I don't know for what. Hurry up, ok? We have that party to go to tonight."

Before Beca could say "What party?" Chloe had smartly rapped on the door and when they heard Odin's booming voice granting them entrance, she had opened the door and pushed Beca inside. Beca stumbled in and it took her a few moments to find her feet before she could straightened up and face Odin.

The chamber was suffused with the orange glow of the setting sun. Beca squinted. The doors to the balcony running round one side of the room were opened and the sun was in her eyes. She could hardly make out the figure of the old man all the valkyries called Father. The great Odin, himself. He was standing towards the sun, with back to her, his hands behind his back.

The man slowly turned round to face her and at the piercing stare of his blue eye, Beca fidgeted and pulled her sleeve down, noting how dusty her outfit was. Damn it, Aubrey had been right. She should have washed up before coming into Father's presence.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Beca spoke up.

Odin noted that she was not looking at him, which meant she was a little nervous, which meant she had broken a few rules; or many, if Aubrey were to be believed. Odin shook his head, his grey plaits swinging slightly. Those two were always at each other's throats. More so these last few hundred years. He had to step in.

"Yes." Odin replied. He cocked his head to one side, scrutinising Beca before continuing. "Aubrey had asked me to say something about your choice of clothes. From what I understand, you had refused to wear the regulation uniform?"

Beca's mouth twisted into a surly scowl and her jaw ticked. Odin could almost see her visibly bristling at the mention of Aubrey's complaint.

"I like wearing my jumpsuit," Beca muttered. "It's practical. I can't wear a skirt when I'm flying. What if anyone looks up?"

Odin squashed the smile that was threatening to break through.

"You wear a cloaking device."

"Yes, I do," Beca replied.

"So no one will see you until you reveal yourself," Odin continued. "That argument is not valid."

"I can't fly in a skirt," Beca argued mulishly. "I just can't."

Odin shook his head once more. He knew Aubrey was a stickler for rules and was just doing her job as a senior valkyrie but he had to agree with Beca with this one. Her suit was immensely practical given her choice of flight and so far, Beca had been doing so well.

"Fine. I'll tell Aubrey you can wear your jumpsuit," Odin gave in. He saw that flit of victory crossing Beca's face before the tiny brunette assumed that familiar scowl on her face. "I will only do this if you promise not to wind Aubrey up so much."

"Wind her up?" Beca replied waspishly. "She's the one who's always winding me up!"

Odin was having a headache now.

"She is your older sister and trying to keep order," he said. "Please be civil to her. At least, I will not have to put up with another clipboard report."

"As you wish, Father," Beca mumbled half heartedly. She stood a little unsurely, still thinking she was in some sort of trouble when Odin finally dismissed her.

Once the doors of the chambers closed behind Beca, he let out a tired sigh. He was a God of war and wisdom, Master of the kingdom of Asgard, residing over Valhalla. He did not have time for petty female squabbles. His sigh was met with a light laugh. Odin looked up to see his lovely wife, Frija stepping out of the annex, smiling at him.

"You found that funny, Frija?" he grumbled.

Frija adjusted the golden dress she was wearing and shook her head mockingly, making her golden locks danced. "Not at all. I thought you handled that very well," she said soothingly.

"Those two will be the death of me," Odin muttered. "Why can't they just get along?"

"Because they are equally stubborn," Frija replied. "You did the right thing. Aubrey was wrong at this instance; it would be better for Beca to that jumpsuit."

"You're only saying that because Beca's your favorite," Odin grumbled again, sitting down on a nearby chair.

Frija came closer and massaged the god's shoulders until she could feel him relaxing. She did not bother to correct her husband. True, as a Mother to all the maiden valkyries, she should not have a favourite. But she would always remember the teary four year old with brunette curls, crying face down in the meadow. Her feet had gave way with all that running, the soles blistered and criss-crossed with cuts. Her dress would have been white but it was torn and dirty and covered with blood Frija had helped her up and that little girl's face was smudged with dirt and tears. But she was still so fearless, staring up at the golden lady who was holding her. She did not even cry out in surprise when Frija held her tight and they both ascended to Valhalla. Yes, Beca was her favourite.

"Perhaps it is time for either Beca or Aubrey to move on," Frija said. At Odin's puzzled look, Frija smiled and continued. "Both of them had served you well. You have many sons, my dear. Perhaps it is time for both of them to be rewarded."

AN: Man, I have this whole story planned out and no time to write it and that hurts. Jeca endgame as always. They will meet in the next chapter and not fall in love.