#leita

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“Fuck!” Skalla gritted her teeth, trying to even out her breath as her skin unwillingly knit itself back together.

“I’m sorry,” Leita kept her seithr lit, the soft yellow light unwavering in the face of her wife’s outburst. An apologetic hand touched at her forearm, smoothing gently over that unharmed skin as she continued her work at the exposed wound of her shoulder. At the tender gesture, the woman across the room looked away, pushing away from the empty healing bed to prowl the empty healing ward’s floor once more.

“Tell me again,” Freyja said, “where you two were patrolling. You’ve made it farther into her realm than any others have.”

Leita’s brown eyes flicked to the Mistress of Valhalla momentarily, narrowing for just a second at the terseness of her voice before returning to Skalla.

“I—Gilla and I,” her voice closed off around the name, and it was a moment before she could clear the thickness from her throat. “Gilla—we … we started where Fastný and Sigvin returned last, off the south end of the main hall. There was low visibility—as usual—but a spot opened up through the coverage, and we decided to descend beneath the clouds.”

“And you could see Hel’s surface?” Freyja cut in to confirm.

“Yes,” the cavalrywoman frowned. “Yes, we could see the surface, and there were souls—not many, but we could see some just on the horizon from where we were, so we flew closer.”

“Any recognizable faces?”

“No … no, not that I could see,” Skalla sighed. “Visibility was still poor because of the mists, so we kept flying south, just to see if there was anything of note. We flew for probably fifteen minutes before some of the mist cleared … and as soon as it did—”

“Gilla—”

“We’ve known each other since we were girls,” Skalla interrupted without thought, and this time she couldn’t hide the thickness in her voice as she spoke. “We did everything together: learn to ride, join the shield-maids, enlist in the Valkyrior. We were shield-sisters before we ever came here together, and we were as good as sisters before even that.” Tears began to trickle down her dark cheek in slow, steady lines.

Freyja thinned her lips at the sight of her Valkyrie’s tears and diverted her attention away as the other woman wiped the wetness out of her vision. A heartbeat of silence passed between them before she ventured a question. “What happened?”

Skalla shuddered out a breath, squeezing one of Leita’s hands before opening her eyes to continue.

“The mists cleared,” she said simply. “They cleared, and the ground beneath us had ... had so many souls,” she breathed. “I looked—” Skalla admitted, waylaying her mistress’ question, “I looked to see if I recognized anyone, but I hardly had time to search before Gilla—before she … she dove. Straight down.”

Freyja’s eyes fell shut as she let out a small sigh of realization. “Gilla recognized someone.”

Skalla could only nod, salty tears pricking her eyes again and making her vision swim.

“Her brother,” Leita supplied for her quietly, dimming her seithr and bringing her hands to her lap. “Gilla’s brother was killed in an attack by the Jotuns years ago. He was still quite young.”

“And she hadn’t seen him in so long!” Skalla’s voice was a croak as she tried to justify her shield-sister’s actions. “I followed after her as quickly as I could, to keep her from making a mistake and interfering, but before I could … I saw him. I saw Vidi just as clearly as I see you standing here now, and I watched as Gilla threw her arms around him.” She swallowed, shaking her head, “Only, the moment she embraced him, touched her flesh with his, his eyes … they suddenly changed.”

Freyja drew her head up at that. “They changed?”

“Yes! Yes, his pupils dilated?” she looked up to her queen, uncertainty furrowing her brow. “They dilated until … until all I saw was black. And Gilla …” Skalla rolled her lips inward to keep them from quivering, though the Mistress of Valhalla needed no further elaboration.

“Gilla died when she touched her brother,” Freyja breathed out, working her jaw as she came to the conclusion. Her nostrils flared as she further put the mental pieces together for herself.

Leita watched the change in her face with concern, interjecting quickly. “Wha—Mistress Freyja,” she addressed her, “what happened?”

Fresh tears spilled over Skalla’s cheeks.

“Her wings,” she cried sadly, touching at her own back instinctively, as if the mechanical flying device were still there, “her wings fell through her and smashed to the ground as if she wasn’t even there! As if she were a ghost!”

“My lady?” Leita pressed her queen, her wife’s cries causing her own vision to waver as tears blurred the edges.

“I think,” Freyja started slowly, “that Gilla and Skalla got closer to discovering Hela’s … home, headquarters, whatever you want to call where she plots and keeps her most valuable souls … than we’ve ever gotten before. I think we’re close to finding—”

Without warning, Skalla surged forward to grasp at Freyja’s hands, and the queen startled at the sudden, insistent clasping of Skalla’s to her own. “I tried!” the woman managed through tears, “I tried to collect her soul to bring her back, but … but each time she slipped through my fingers!”

Leita’s questioning expression turned from her queen, to her wife, and back to Freyja again.

“Hela’s touch … “ the queen hesitated, “her touch is final. No matter how noble the death or person, if Hela manages to touch you, that soul is hers by right,” she tried to explain as gently as possible. “Once she claims your soul, there’s … there’s no way for us to recover it.”

The sound Skalla made at the news broke through the room in a long, piercing lament, and Freyja rose immediately, separating the two of them. Her own throat constricted and suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry—” for your loss, she felt the words die in her throat before she could even get them out, as cliché and lacking as they were. She knew quite well enough from her own experiences that they did absolutely nothing to comfort such a loss, and she wasn’t one to waste her breath.

“I-I’m sorry to leave so quickly and … and to leave you in such a state, but,” Freyja at last found her resolve and began heading for the door, “I need to bring this to my council. We’re so close to locating Hela; you’ve done well—” Skalla’s earnest sobs had her pause one final time, and she turned to see Leita wrapping her in a close embrace, the head healer’s hands not lit with their golden seithr but instead cupping her wife’s face to lean into the side of her own.