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Valkyrie brushed a hand over Warsong’s mane and tried to focus on the feel of soft fur under her fingertips instead of the one of dread that had settled into her stomach. She’d known when she heard the tell-tale krackoom of thunder that Jane had made her choice, and Valkyrie knew that these stables would be the first place Jane would come. So there she stood, brushing her pegasus’s back, waiting for the inevitable.
She heard, rather than saw, Jane arrive. The sound of her boots clicking against the cobblestone made panic well up inside her. Valkyrie turned to see Jane standing in the doorway of the stables, helmet gone with Mjolnir hanging loosely from her wrist. She was far from the imposing goddess of thunder that Valkyrie had fought beside for the past few months. This was a woman walking to her death.
Valkyrie was the only thing standing in her way.
“You know he needs me,” Jane said. A simple fact. Something they both knew to be true. “I can feel every hit he takes. We don’t have much time.”
Valkyrie’s lip wobbled. It wasn’t fair. Gods, it wasn’t fair. How many more sisters did she have to lose? Her throat was tight with tears. She could still feel Gorr’s cold hands on her face, his acidic voice hissing in her ears. Jane was right, and Valkyrie was in no condition to fight her, let alone well enough to stop her. Besides, Jane had already picked up the hammer. She would be dead the second she let it go.
“Valkyrie,” Jane flipped Mjolnir in her hand as she stepped forward. She rolled her shoulders back and set her lips in a grim line. “I need your horse.”
Valkyrie’s hand fell to the hilt of her sword. She felt stitches pull at her side and winced. A cruel reminder of her inability to help Jane, or Thor, or the children. It hurt that the only thing she could do to help save all of godhood was stand here and allow Jane to run oof to her death.
It hurt almost as much as it pissed her off.
“I don’t want to let you do this.”
Valkyrie tugged Warsong’s reins behind her as she crossed the room and met Jane at the center of the stable. Jane towered over her in her Thor form, but even now, as she stubbornly stared Valkyrie down, Valkyrie did not feel the heat of her gaze. They had known each other for only months, which was short by human terms and a blink by Asgardian ones. Yet, they shared a kinship forged on the battlefield and a mutual love of Asgard and one dumbass thunder god. They understood each other. From the moment Valkyrie saw Jane wield Mjolnir, they had understood each other. It was why, despite the ache in her chest, Valkyrie could not stop Jane from leaving. It was why she wasn’t even going to try.
A tear slipped down Valkyrie’s cheek as she passed Jane the reins. “You Thors are so bloody stubborn.”
Jane locked their hands tightly together and smiled. There was a tremor there in Jane’s once capable hands. Valkyrie’s throat was too tight to speak without crying, and Jane could tell. They were running out of time. Even Valkyrie could hear Mjolnir’s incessant whirring. Thor was in trouble, and if he was in trouble, so was all of godhood.
But still Jane stopped to hug Valkyrie one last time. The two women sunk into each other’s embrace. Valkyrie let out one sharp cry, then, calling on the ancient power of the Valkyrior, Valkyrie threaded her hands in Jane’s hair. She had not used her abilities since before Hela’s reign, but now more than ever she knew that she must. It had been her duty once to carry souls from battle into Valhalla. Years on Sakaar had taken her ability to travel between worlds on her own, but she could still give Jane one last gift.
White-gold magic thrummed to life in her veins, and Valkyrie glowed like the goddess she had once been. Jane gasped and tried to pull away, but Valkyrie held her even tighter.
“May your soul pass gently into Valhalla,” Valkyrie commanded.
Her words made the air shimmer with ancient magic. It set her teeth on edge and bubbled in her throat. This was more power than she had ever used before. Setting a mortal soul on the path to Valhalla was unprecedented. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but she had to try. If anyone deserved an eternal reward, it was Jane.
Valkyrie pulled away from Jane, gasping as her still-glowing hands rested on Jane’s face and the spell took hold of her soul. Tears streamed down Jane’s face. Valkyrie didn't need a reflection to know her cheeks were equally soaked.
The last lines of the prayer came out choked. “Where the brave shall live forever.”
Light faded into Jane and Valkyrie’s skin and lingered for a second longer in their eyes. Valkyrie’s knees buckled under the weight of her body. The spell had zapped whatever little energy she had left. Her side was aching. Warm blood soaked the side of her sweater.
Jane struggled to pull Valkyrie back to her feet, shaking as she did. Once they were both steady, she gripped Valkyrie’s arms at the elbows. Her face was set in stone. This was a goddess, well and truly.
“Thank you, Valkyrie.” Jane spoke with the conviction of a vow. Her brows knitted firmly together. “For everything.”
Valkyrie was crying, but her voice did not waiver as she spoke the name she had not breathed aloud in centuries. “Brunnhilde. My name is Brunnhilde.”
Jane whispered the name and smiled even as tears left streaks down her cheeks. Her silver helmet materialized over her face as she lifted her hand to cup Brunnhilde’s face. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
Brunnhilde laughed. “Go, Mighty Thor. He needs you.”
Jane nodded and turned her back to Brunnhilde, her red coat swishing as she walked away. Warsong followed her, head bowed. Perceptive creature, her pegasus was. Brunnhilde watched Jane mount Warsong, kick off, and disappear into the shadow realm before she buried her face in her hands.
Brunnhilde couldn’t bring herself to leave the stables. Not when the Bifrost lit up the sky and Axl returned, and not when she could hear the cheers and relief of her people coming from the town square. Her heart was too broken to celebrate with them, though she knew she would eventually have to. For now she allowed herself the solitude of the stables and the meager comfort of an all too familiar grief.