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Skoskadul, the Valkyrie Queen, sits beneath her tree, counting down the seconds until she picks up the next batch of work to do and enjoying watching the leaves fall as she does, when two of her Knights enter the throne room, leading two strange people behind them.
They are colored oddly, one of a vibrant purple and the other of a dim orange. Overworlders often have abnormal colors, but they look nothing like the Overworlders that usually come to ransack the temple. The orange man, heavyset and strong and tense, glances warily around the room at all of her people surrounding her. The purple girl, lithe and thin and almost unworried, follows the Knights to Skoskadul's throne with more enthusiasm than she'd seen from anybody in a long time.
This girl does not stand like her companion does, tethered to the ground. She is light on her feet and quick in her motions, and her arms move as though they are making room for feathers instead of taking up all the space they want. Skoskadul takes one long look at this girl, and knows she is meant to be winged.
She bows so deeply before she makes her request, and it is just as Skoskadul figured: She wishes for wings. For the wonderful golden things attached to her people's backs. For the ability to soar through the sky as if she belongs to it, as if she is one with it.
Of course, she obliges. No daughter of the wind should be condemned to live a life of ground-bound suffering. But, of course, a test is required first; this girl must prove herself deserving of wings, of flight, prove that she won't spurn the gift on a death that would come much too quickly to such a mortal thing. The girl is all too happy to do so, if it means she gets her home back. She can see it in her eyes; she belongs here just as Skoskadul herself does. She belongs to the clouds and the winds and the Aether.
But she must prove herself first.
That chance is taken from her. Her companion — her guardian, it seems — isn't willing to risk her life for her home. She does concede, though it sits wrongly with both the girl and the Queen that someone else fights her battles for her.
She cheers raucously nonetheless.
Her arms still move like they are accompanied by wings. She still stands just far enough from the other spectators that they wouldn't bump into them, if they actually existed. She still leans to the side as if to prevent that exact thing, and Skoskadul can almost see the feathers stretching out from her back during the fleeting moments her attention is split.
The girl's companion wins. He spares the Queen, though he could have killed her easily just then, and that is the motion that makes her respect him. There's a worry in her mind that he will take the wings for himself, and not give them to the girl he was fighting for, the girl whom she watches press her shoulders back towards where they should be fluttering. She does not know what happened to her wings. The way she moves says she should have them, has had them, but now they are gone. The only glimpse Skoskadul got of her back was when she bowed, earlier. Her shirt was open, but a capelet covered the place where her wings should have connected. She does not know if it's merely a spiritual connection, or...
She decides to trust the girl's companion, in the end. He seems to care for her... and if he doesn't, the Queen can always command her legions to bring her his head.
He does not bow nearly as deeply, but he treats her with the same respect as she presents the wings to him. She looks at the daughter of the sky, and smiles.