You never thought Thor would be the one to meddle in your life like this. The thunder god—boisterous, loud, impossible to ignore—had decided you needed a friend. Or maybe more. “Brünnhilde,” he said with a wink, “is not just a shield-maiden; she’s one of the fiercest warriors in all of Asgard. And she’s got a fire even you might respect.”

You weren’t so sure. But here you were, standing outside a dimly lit tavern in New York City, nerves twisting in your gut. The hum of the city buzzed around you, but all you could focus on was the moment Brünnhilde would walk through that door.

And then she did.

Her presence hit you like a gale force wind—hair wild and dark like a midnight storm, eyes sharp and piercing like a falcon’s. She moved with the confidence of someone who’d stared death in the face and come out laughing. When her gaze found you, a smirk curved her lips, sharp and teasing.

“So, you’re Thor’s pet project,” she said, voice low and gravelly, the kind that made you sit up straighter. “Hope you’re worth the trouble.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of the moment ease just a little. “If Thor thinks I’m trouble, I must be something special.”

She laughed then—a rich, smoky sound that surprised you with how genuine it felt. “Charm won’t save you out here, but it’s a start. You ready to see what the real world looks like through my eyes?”

You nodded, intrigued despite yourself. “Lead the way, Valkyrie.”

The night stretched between you like the endless skies of Asgard, filled with stories of battles fought and lost, of honor and pain and the heavy loneliness of those who survive. Brünnhilde’s voice softened when she spoke of the lost Valkyries, the sisters who once soared alongside her but were now just echoes in the halls of the gods.

“You carry their memories,” you said quietly, “but also their strength.”

She regarded you with a gaze that flickered between gratitude and wariness. “Thor said you’re good people. Maybe even strong enough to stand by me.”

You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a small, human gesture against the backdrop of gods and warriors. “Let’s find out.”

Suddenly, a shout cut through the tavern’s warmth. The door burst open, and a group of shadowy figures spilled inside—thugs looking for trouble. Brünnhilde’s smirk faded into a battle-ready glare. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Without hesitation, she leapt into action, her movements fluid and deadly. You followed, heart pounding, instincts kicking in. Side by side, you fought—not just as allies but as something more, a team forged in the fire of chaos.

When the dust settled and the last attacker fled, she turned to you, breath heavy but eyes alight. “Not bad for a mortal,” she said with a teasing grin.

You laughed, feeling the electric thrill of the fight and the undeniable connection sparking between you. “Guess Thor’s matchmaking isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

She nudged your shoulder with hers, warm and solid. “Don’t get used to it. I’m hard to keep.”

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t mind.

The night outside seemed less overwhelming, the stars brighter. Because somewhere between gods and mortals, warriors and strangers, you had found something rare: a chance at something real.