It started with a bet at breakfast.

You, being you, stupidly decided to gamble that Alex wouldn't be able to kill you whilst on the battlefield. Uhhh. Bad idea.

Everything was going fine. Half-Born was laughing like a berserker (pun intended) and smashing fellow einherji against each other like ragdolls. Mallory took to stabbing a large son of Thor. TJ was shouting incoherent orders from the top of a hill, bayoneting whoever came near. Magnus was trying to talk to Jack about something important, whilst Jack continued to slaughter blood-thirsty Vikings and sing Beyonce's new album. Gods, that sword could not sing. At all.

Aaaaand Alex was nowhere to be seen. That was bad. You'd think someone dressed in bright green and pink would stand out, but nooo, she was stealthy when she wanted to be. That was always unfortunate for some unlucky person. That unlucky person today being YOU! Fun.

You were in the middle of taking down a guy twice your size, when you felt a cold string wrap around your neck. After you'd realised what was happening, it was already too late. The garrote-holder whistled a sickeningly upbeat tune and pulled the string towards herself.

"Lights out! I winnn." Wow. Could you sound less psychotic?

Before you had the chance to complain, you did in fact go lights out. Decapitation was not a great way to die, but hey, it wasn't one of the worser ways. The worst it did was damage your pride- and your neck, I guess.

You woke up in your Valhalla suite's comfy bed, almost jumping upright when you realised you weren't alone. Alex was sprawled across the other side of the bed (with her shoes on the sheets, but she didn't seem to care), reading one of your magazines. She didn't look up, but flicked over a page.

"That dress is nice." She hummed, not bothering with a 'How'd you sleep?', or a 'Sorry I decapitated you for a bet!', or even a 'Morning, sunshine!'. Typical.

"I'm feeling female today, by the way. And I got falafel whilst you were dead to the world. Literally." Ugh. Puns.