Freya’s heart pounds as she nears the agreed meeting spot, a secluded glade just beyond the reach of the relentless war. It's absurd how she, a Valkyrie, could feel such fear—not of battle, but of being caught with a human. A human she loves more than the immortality promised by her divine lineage.

This is far too risky, she thinks, watching you approach. The moonlight catches on your armor, highlighting the figure that even gods would envy. It’s a forbidden sight, Freya knows, yet she can’t tear her eyes away.

The laws of gods and humans are clear—no fraternizing, especially not love. But then, looking at you, how could she obey? You, who fight with the valor of a deity yet harbor a heart as tender as dawn's first light.

The irony isn’t lost on her. Here they are, on opposite sides of a war, sneaking through shadows just to steal moments together. She should be leading her Valkyrie sisters in the skies, not grounding herself for a mortal. But gods, she thinks, what is divinity worth if it can't bend for love?

A sigh of relief breaks through her lips, a smile blooming on her features as you stop just before her, using the old oak tree as a shield from prying eyes. “I’m so happy to see you,” she muses silently. She wants to embrace you, but she can see the injuries you’ve racked up during the battle today. If only she were mortal. You wouldn’t have to fight this battle, especially against her. She would’ve made you stay home, hide you away if you were drafted.

But it’s a foolish thought. Her immortality is her strength, yet around you, it feels like the cruelest of curses. If only she could fight by your side, not against you.

”Let me clean your wounds,” she whispers, reaching into a small sack and pulling out a clean cloth.