Cold Touch

1

Upon a serene grassy hill overlooking the sparkling palace of Asgard sat the young winged Valkyrie, Valhalla. Still as a statue, the woman found great interest in the growing blades that tickled her bare toes. Blatantly ignoring the warm glow of the morning sun as it rose above the home of the Aesir.

This rare moment of relaxation was not lost upon the war-weary Valhalla as she traced the thick golden band that dug deep into the pale flesh just above her ankle.

That band, golden and seemingly delicate, acted as a reminder and as a warning. She was not to be sympathetic. She was not to feel emotions or develop kinships. Emotions were burdensome, and thrusted onto the Aesir.

That was her curse. This indentured servitude was never ending. Odin had blessed her with this duty, as he blessed the other eleven before her. A single Valkyrie must live. Must lead the fallen to their home. Golden and enriching. Full of drink and merriment and joy, and the Valkyrie, with eyes of steel, must leave that place. Leave, knowing she may never return to her namesake when her own battle is lost.

The idea dulls the rising sun and sparkling city, drawing a dark mood from deep within her chest. Distraction was the only means of escape. The only means of expression, and so she wasted little time. Flexing her wings, the young woman looked away from the emerald blades of grass and cast her troubled gaze over the brilliant kingdom before her. A cautious glance into the near future would settle her nerves. One hundred years of peace would not end so abruptly, after all.

Inhaling deeply and surrounding herself in the strong snowy wings of her ancestors, she meditated on the city. Acting as the liaison between what is and what is going to be. Strong flashes of battle, heat, fear spread through her being and rocking the world before her. She knew in that moment, all was not well. Feeling within her very bones, that soon, chaos would cast its shadow over the sparkling kingdom.

She could see the death and destruction as it raged through the cities, devouring men, women, and children all the same as it ripped through Asgard with no remorse. Darkness consumed the heart of the city, the very core of the Aesir tainted with false promises and a pure malice.

The band around her ankle burned, digging itself into her flesh and searing the inner inscription deep into the cavern of scars she had already acquired. The band shifting itself a few centimeters to the left, drawing out the pain to drive out the emotion. Acting as the punisher of emotions; bestowed upon her by Odin.

A small yelp escaped the Valkyrie as the metal band ripped through rough scar tissue. The pained cry reverberated across the sloping valley and into the glittering halls of the castle of Asgard. Ringing clearly within the ears of the Allfather, Odin himself.

The sound was distinct and telling. Promises of war hung in the air before him as the Allfather closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. Shaken by the cry of the Valkyrie.

A sharp smack of his open palm on the edge of his divine throne summoned the closest guard.

Kneeling before the ancient warrior, head bowed, the young armor clad man regarded his king with admiration and undying loyalty.

"Yes my liege." He spoke true and strong. Unwavering under his leader's gaze.

"Summon the council."

The deep voice echoed in the ears of the kneeling guard, lean muscles flexing and relaxing under the intense one eyed stare. At the command, the guard's tongue darted out to moisten dry cracking lips, a desperate hunger awakening deep within the young man's heart.

"Yes my liege." He managed after a moment, rising to his feet as he rushed from the room with a new found gusto.

As the young guard left the room, Odin ran a hand over his tired features. Allowing himself a moment of weakness and ignoring the youth's ignorant spectacle. Soon enough, the idea of war would send tremors down the young man's spine.