Chapter 16 - Attraction

Content Warning: bit of spice ahead

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Val slept like a cat, sixteen hours of uninterrupted rest. It was a luxury she hadn't experienced in centuries. 

Insomnia plagued her for as long as she could remember. The lack of deep sleep, the night terrors, the sleep paralysis. It all left her drained with her mind drifting through a fog through most of her active duty as a Valkyrie. 

Even now, exhaustion clung to her like a bad rumour. She burrowed her head deeper into the comforts of the bed, recalling last night's dream. 

She stood in a hall shaped like a ship, its walls decked with gold and white facades, and lined with mounted animal heads and weapons. A particularly nasty lindworm's skull loomed over one entrance, and beyond it stretched a vast meadow training ground. 

Young women between the ages of fourteen and twenty-six sparred with swords, shields, axes and spears. Their hair, braided or loose, danced in the smoky air wafting from nearby braziers, glistering against their sweat-slicked skin and battle-hardened bodies.

They were steeled for war, and died in battle—much like Val had been. 

She watched as one sister seized another by the face and hurled her across the field. The thrown Valkyrie twisted midair, and white-and-brown wings snapped open. She twisted her spear and dove back into the fray with a cry.

Then the scene shifted. 

Val stood in a grand hall. Its ceiling was as high as the sky, with an expanse wider than any city. 

The noise hit her first—a deafening roar, louder than nine packed football stadiums combined, filled with the most rowdy and raucous crowd of men and women she had ever endured. 

As usual, the men were the worst offenders. 

Those were the Einherjar. 

Warriors handpicked by the Valkyries to serve the Allfather, to feast and brawl until the end of time.

Val found herself among them, though dressed in a short-sleeved white dress with a low neckline. With a tablet in one hand and a stein of beer in the other, she served these so-called "honourable" warriors of death.

Val loved being a Valkyrie, but her duties often wore her down. By the end of each day, she would collapse into her cold, narrow bed, hugging her pillow, exhausted and alone. 

The memories never left her. Every battle. Every scar. Every warrior she had carried to Valhalla. Every lewd comment and unwanted grope in the hall before she vaporised the offender for a decade or two. 

Everything was engraved onto her scarred body. 

Val squeezed the pillow tighter, soaking in its warmth, its softness—until the dream faded, and she woke tangled in Maya's limbs. 

Maya slept soundly, her chest rising in slow, even breaths. A faint snore escaped her plump lips.

Val blinked away the haze of sleep and realised her face was buried in the curve of Maya's neck. 

Fragments of last night surfaced. Flushed skin, whispered words, things Val would never have dared. Things she did without consent. 

Yet now, with Maya's warmth pressed against her, her steady rhythm of her heartbeat under Val's fingertips, she couldn't resist pulling her closer. 

"Maya," Val murmured, her breath ghosting over Maya's cheek, stirring a few loose coils of hair. 

Her hesitance threw itself out the window of Val's mind as her hands decided to wander. Over the swell of Maya's chest where her gown had slipped low, down the dip of her waist, and the curve of her hip. 

Val froze when she felt Maya's body shiver slightly. She waited until her breathing steadied before tracing the hill of her stomach.

This wasn't like her. 

Val never even considered touching someone like that. Desire was not in her pool of words. She rarely felt any sort of arousal or emotional attraction to someone to the point where she didn't know what it was. But right now, she felt a burning longing in her gut. An ache to explore Maya's body more and drink in all the sensation it carried with her.

The warm, soft smoothness, unlike the battle-scarred and rough bodies of the Einherjar she had to endure seeing all day in the halls. 

"I like you," she whispered with her thumb brushing Maya's navel before she squeezed her gently. She pressed a kiss to the birthmark on Maya's side, right above the soft curve of her love handle.

Val pulled away. Her cheeks were burning. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Done. Any of that."

Val ran her hands over her own lean torso, the defined abdominal muscles beneath her skin and the faint multitude of white scars that stood stark when she flexed. 

I hope she likes me as much as I like her.

Tucking the duvet back over Maya's body, Val slipped out to fetch herself a glass of water. She froze at the sight of Fey lounging at the table, a light jacket draped over her shoulders, revealing her sliver of toned midriff as nibbled peacefully on the most healthy breakfast this place has seen.

"Morning, Miss Handsy," Fey smirked, spreading her arms in a mock welcome. "How's our host? Hope you weren't too rough on her last night."

Val's hand shot out, snatching the butter knife on the table as she lunged for the witch. 

‧. .ˋˏʚ♡ɞˎˊ. .‧

Maya stirred awake, feeling her skin tingle with an odd sensitivity. She stretched in her bed and her fingers brushed the empty sheets where Val should have been.

"She must have woken up earlier," Maya yawned, pushing herself up. 

She adjusted her gown where it had ridden up over her stomach. The mirror caught her reflection, and she grimaced. Her finger traced the soft curve of her belly with the subtle crest that formed below it and just above the panty line. 

"It's so obvious now." Maya suppressed a whimper and tugged the fabric down. "I need to go on a diet. I don't want her to see this." 

Padding into the kitchen, Maya halted at the strange sight before her. 

Fey lounged at the table, smugly and half naked—which wasn't unusual as of late, but she at least wore a light jacket and woollen pyjama pants, covering just enough to be technically decent.

Maya's attention snapped to Val, who held a butter knife to Fey's throat, hand trembling with a barely restrained urge to slice her white neck. 

Though at the sight of Maya at the entrance, Val's hardened expressions faltered. 

"Maya?" Val's voice came out unsteadily. "Did you. Give. The witch. Guest rights?" 

"Guest… what?" Maya cocked her head. "She's a guest, I think? Why?" 

Val tsked. Fey burst into laughter. 

Maya rubbed her temples. "Someone explain." 

She needed her morning coffees. 

"Guest rights," Fey spread her arms like a ballerina, "in our world, you are not allowed to harm or kill your guests—even enemies. Once they claim guest rights, and you, as a host, grant it to them, you've got to get creative with murder. 

"Like 'accidentally'," Fey quoted, "serving cheese to a lactose-intolerant Viking." She grinned.

Maya pinched the bridge of her nose and rested her fist against her side.

"Whatever," she sighed. "More importantly, where'd you get your breakfast? I don't remember buying any strawberries." 

Maya pointed at Fey's bowl of wheat cereal, topped with fresh blueberries and strawberries. 

Fey speared a strawberry with her fork and took a bite. With a smile, she clapped her hands together and drew a semicircle in the air. A tiny rainbow shimmered to life. 

"Magic." 

Maya rolled her eyes at Fey. 

Val clapped her hands, suddenly bright-eyed. "How about. I make. Breakfast. For you?" The Valkyrie beamed. 

Maya's lips twitched. Her hand consciously drifted to her stomach, barely hiding the queasiness she suddenly felt. Her eyes couldn't meet Val's. 

"I'm not hungry." 

Val's smile vanished. "Oh…" Her voice wavered. "Maybe. Coffee?" 

The suggestion was more like a plea. 

A plea that Maya could never reject. "Coffee sounds good." 

Maya sank into the chair opposite to Fey, exhaling heavily as she bonked her head against the table. Fey chuckled, though the tense mood made her anxious. 

"Is it a bad time to apologise?" Fey asked. 

Maya gave her a blank, caffeine-deprived stare. 

"...I'm sorry," Fey squeaked. "For tricking you with the guest rights… The Draugr attacks… Using the last of your conditioner… and everything else…" 

"So… you're really Fey? Fedora?" 

"The one and only." Fey spread her arms theatrically, but it missed the mark. She then reached into her jacket and slid an envelope across the table. "Remember this one?"

Maya hesitated before opening it. She remembered how she and Fey exchanged letters for years, but the specifics were foggy. Inside were stacks of handwritten pages. Maya skimmed—then paused. 

"These are our first letters. About my eating disorder. And one about… your leg." 

Fey absently rubbed her right thigh. "Do you recall how we started to write to each other?" 

"That healthcare pen-pal scheme a few years back?"

Fey snapped her fingers. "That's the one," Fey laughed uneasily. "After a giant wrecked my leg, I was… not great. My mother and grandmother shoved me into therapy. They suggested a pen pal. Remember how I called it 'patronising rubbish'?" 

Maya laughed. "So did I. But it worked." 

"Yeah." Fey pushed her bowl aside. "Your letters helped me. Talking to you—about my rage, my leg, anything—kept me grounded. Kept me sane. I felt… connected. And then I went and ruined it." Her voice cracked. "I didn't know you'd be here. I didn't know I was hurting you. Can you forgive me?" 

Her usual bravado was gone. Fey's fingers twitched toward Maya's, trying to reach her. 

And her eyes glistened. 

Fey may have acted confident the entire time—unreachable and lofty—but she looked almost desperate for a positive reply. Her lips quivered from the mistakes she made with her long-distance friend, whom she only met for the first time.

Maya put her hand over hers, nails digging into the skin. "Only if you make it up to me, and apologise to Val."

Fey's smirk was weak. "Considering recent events, she'd rather stab me."

"I. Will," Val growled, slamming a cup of pitch-black coffee in front of Fey—precisely hard enough to make a point without spilling it. 

Her scowl softened as she handed Maya hers—a pumpkin-spiced latte with heart-shaped white chocolate and whipped cream in a tall glass. 

"For you," she said softly. "Enjoy." 

"Thank you." Maya took a sip and squealed in delight, cupping her cheeks.

Fey narrowed her eyes, sipped her own coffee, and snorted. The coffee was good. "She pampers you, you know? Careful. Love'll settle on your hips too."

"Too late for that." Maya clicked her tongue and set her cup down, licking cream from her lips. "Back on track. What do we do about the giant zombie thing you unleashed? And what were those white wisps that made Val so… handsy?"

Maya's face flushed a deep red. And by the way Val's did too, she remembered last night. 

"Brilliant timing." Fey perked up and pulled a remote from her jacket and flicked on the TV with the morning news. "I know where it is!"