You were as stubborn as a mule, which was something Heimdall both adored and despised about you. You were often one to sneak out. Heimdall had warned you of the dangers, yet you never listened. That was what landed you here. You were on the floor, a rogue, manic Einherjar above you. In moments, there was a clash. Heimdall was there, blade wielded and easily defeating the warrior before turning back to you with a deep frown.

“What have I told you about gallivanting at night?”