When Rosalina first realized that her interests deviated from the norm, she was fifteen years-old.
An older, elegant countess came, seeking to unite her holdings with her father’s and she brought her equally beautiful, equally elegant seventeen year old daughter with her to test the waters of becoming a “sister” to the Frostward siblings. It didn’t really work out well in terms of their potential marriage, but for Rosalina, it was an awakening. She’d toyed with flirting with men at court, never promising more than she was willing to give, but there was no spark in any of it. It was all performative, just because it was expected of her.
When Constance’s fingers brushed hers, it was like a bolt of lightning split through her. The teasing, bantering phrases of friends had an electric pull to them, almost as though Rosalina is forced to hold her breath between responses, worried that at one point that she may have pushed the game too far, and when Constance kissed her, hurriedly while pressing Rosalina against the wall of a blessedly empty hallway, it was almost as though everything made sense again. As stalwart and steadfast as she had been to the idea of the perfect noble and the ideal daughter, always assuming that she would marry a man and have children, as was expected of her, she knew that that moment was something that she could never go back from.
There were a number of other stolen moments, between that hesitant first kiss, and the moment when Constance’s mother yanked Constance out of Rosalina’s bedroom by her hair, but the first was always her favorite – that moment of understanding who she is, for the first time ever. While her father was understanding, tried to offer their daughters as a potential union, tried to give Rosalina a love that would burn bright, the countess refused. She married Constance quickly to a man of her choosing, and not long after that, the girl that Rosalina knew disappeared, shelved behind the countenance of “wife.” “Mother.”
Rosalina was luckier. She was selected for the Valkyries, was taken away from Xandria, was given a life of her choosing. There’s never a day that she takes that for granted, throwing herself into her life in Valhalla with the same vigor that she did becoming a noblewoman. It’s in Valhalla where she finds her purpose and her drive, where she finds a truer kind of love than the fleeting heat of passion she felt in her teens. Mira is the love of her life – she feels it in her bones, feels it in the way that she’s a better version of herself than she was before she met her, and she is convinced that their hearts are guaranteed for forever. They share their duty to the Valkyries, to keep anything, obligation or otherwise, from being able to come between them.
It’s that sense of duty and that sense of duty alone that has her remaining in Valhalla, but that sense of duty isn’t enough to pick her off the cold kitchen floor, blood drenched through her dress and tears running down her cheeks. They had kidded themselves about having forever, let the fact that they’re Valkyries trick her into believing that there was nothing they couldn’t survive.
They couldn’t survive Asgard.
They couldn’t, because Mira is dead, Asgard is lost, and they don’t even have a body to bury. Rosalina tries so many times to force herself up off the stones, but she can’t. It’s like she’s missing the parts of herself that would have allowed her to move. She doesn’t even move when she hears the familiar clatter of armor, and sees a familiar set of legs step in front of her.
“Rosa, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Hecuba was a Trojan woman, once, named for a Trojan queen. One of the last great ones, if Rosalina remembers her stories correctly. Her voice is soft, the way Mira’s would have been once upon a time, but there are too many differences for her to delude herself into thinking that the world had righted itself again. Hecuba’s blond, where Mira’s hair was dark, her features soft and welcoming where Mira was all sharp angles, like painted glass. Hecuba is not the woman she wants, but it’s the woman she’s going to get.
“I should have held on to her body,” Rosalina’s soft reply echoes as she lets her hands be taken, but doesn’t move where she isn’t guided. “I should have made sure she was with me when we were called back. Now she’s going to be reborn in that … in that …”
“She won’t.” One of Hecuba’s hands comes up with a damp cloth in hand, wiping some of the streaks of blood and tears from her sister’s face. “Thor removed his power from the realm. There is no magic there now, and without magic, she won’t awaken.”
There’s a long pause as she feels the long thick braid that lingers behind her loosen, plaits of dark hair falling around her shoulders. Rosalina lifts red eyes to meet Hecuba’s gaze and she gives a soft, bitter laugh. “I can’t decide if that is better or worse.”
Hecuba’s face softens for a moment, before she leans in and presses a kiss to Rosalina’s cheek, arm tight around her as she begins to cry again. “I know you have suffered a great loss. I know this loss myself, all too well.” Rosalina remembers vaguely the stories, of Hecuba’s family that was slaughtered by a monster she eventually slew, leaving her the only survivor. It was shortly after that, that she was chosen for the Valkyries, giving herself a cause to strive for. Rosalina straightens a bit, before turning to look at her.
“How did you survive it? How did you not let them take you with them?”
“By allowing myself to lend my anger to something greater than myself.” Hecuba’s hand comes up again, brushing a hand from her face. “You are a Valkyrie. Lean in to that strength. Let your sisters support you, and count on the fact that we are feeling this loss as much as you are.”
Rosalina nods for a moment, before taking Hecuba’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
“You’re not. As long as you are a Valkyrie, you never will be.”
There’s a sharp irony to that statement, given everything that Rosalina had put into her duty as a Valkyrie, but she knows she needs to keep moving forward. She nods, before starting to shift to her feet. “I should probably clean up. It wouldn’t do to let Odin see me like this.”
“I’m sure he would understand if you wanted to take more time.”
“No,” she says firmly, before giving a small nod in agreement. “One foot in front of the other, yes? That’s the only way this is going to work.”
Hecuba nods again, a small smile crossing her face that’s more bittersweet than anything else. “Yes,” she nods as they begin to move back towards their rooms. “One foot in front of the other.”
life goes on, but i'm gone | original (teleios) | 1,195 | round 1, set 4
An older, elegant countess came, seeking to unite her holdings with her father’s and she brought her equally beautiful, equally elegant seventeen year old daughter with her to test the waters of becoming a “sister” to the Frostward siblings. It didn’t really work out well in terms of their potential marriage, but for Rosalina, it was an awakening. She’d toyed with flirting with men at court, never promising more than she was willing to give, but there was no spark in any of it. It was all performative, just because it was expected of her.
When Constance’s fingers brushed hers, it was like a bolt of lightning split through her. The teasing, bantering phrases of friends had an electric pull to them, almost as though Rosalina is forced to hold her breath between responses, worried that at one point that she may have pushed the game too far, and when Constance kissed her, hurriedly while pressing Rosalina against the wall of a blessedly empty hallway, it was almost as though everything made sense again. As stalwart and steadfast as she had been to the idea of the perfect noble and the ideal daughter, always assuming that she would marry a man and have children, as was expected of her, she knew that that moment was something that she could never go back from.
There were a number of other stolen moments, between that hesitant first kiss, and the moment when Constance’s mother yanked Constance out of Rosalina’s bedroom by her hair, but the first was always her favorite – that moment of understanding who she is, for the first time ever. While her father was understanding, tried to offer their daughters as a potential union, tried to give Rosalina a love that would burn bright, the countess refused. She married Constance quickly to a man of her choosing, and not long after that, the girl that Rosalina knew disappeared, shelved behind the countenance of “wife.” “Mother.”
Rosalina was luckier. She was selected for the Valkyries, was taken away from Xandria, was given a life of her choosing. There’s never a day that she takes that for granted, throwing herself into her life in Valhalla with the same vigor that she did becoming a noblewoman. It’s in Valhalla where she finds her purpose and her drive, where she finds a truer kind of love than the fleeting heat of passion she felt in her teens. Mira is the love of her life – she feels it in her bones, feels it in the way that she’s a better version of herself than she was before she met her, and she is convinced that their hearts are guaranteed for forever. They share their duty to the Valkyries, to keep anything, obligation or otherwise, from being able to come between them.
It’s that sense of duty and that sense of duty alone that has her remaining in Valhalla, but that sense of duty isn’t enough to pick her off the cold kitchen floor, blood drenched through her dress and tears running down her cheeks. They had kidded themselves about having forever, let the fact that they’re Valkyries trick her into believing that there was nothing they couldn’t survive.
They couldn’t survive Asgard.
They couldn’t, because Mira is dead, Asgard is lost, and they don’t even have a body to bury. Rosalina tries so many times to force herself up off the stones, but she can’t. It’s like she’s missing the parts of herself that would have allowed her to move. She doesn’t even move when she hears the familiar clatter of armor, and sees a familiar set of legs step in front of her.
“Rosa, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Hecuba was a Trojan woman, once, named for a Trojan queen. One of the last great ones, if Rosalina remembers her stories correctly. Her voice is soft, the way Mira’s would have been once upon a time, but there are too many differences for her to delude herself into thinking that the world had righted itself again. Hecuba’s blond, where Mira’s hair was dark, her features soft and welcoming where Mira was all sharp angles, like painted glass. Hecuba is not the woman she wants, but it’s the woman she’s going to get.
“I should have held on to her body,” Rosalina’s soft reply echoes as she lets her hands be taken, but doesn’t move where she isn’t guided. “I should have made sure she was with me when we were called back. Now she’s going to be reborn in that … in that …”
“She won’t.” One of Hecuba’s hands comes up with a damp cloth in hand, wiping some of the streaks of blood and tears from her sister’s face. “Thor removed his power from the realm. There is no magic there now, and without magic, she won’t awaken.”
There’s a long pause as she feels the long thick braid that lingers behind her loosen, plaits of dark hair falling around her shoulders. Rosalina lifts red eyes to meet Hecuba’s gaze and she gives a soft, bitter laugh. “I can’t decide if that is better or worse.”
Hecuba’s face softens for a moment, before she leans in and presses a kiss to Rosalina’s cheek, arm tight around her as she begins to cry again. “I know you have suffered a great loss. I know this loss myself, all too well.” Rosalina remembers vaguely the stories, of Hecuba’s family that was slaughtered by a monster she eventually slew, leaving her the only survivor. It was shortly after that, that she was chosen for the Valkyries, giving herself a cause to strive for. Rosalina straightens a bit, before turning to look at her.
“How did you survive it? How did you not let them take you with them?”
“By allowing myself to lend my anger to something greater than myself.” Hecuba’s hand comes up again, brushing a hand from her face. “You are a Valkyrie. Lean in to that strength. Let your sisters support you, and count on the fact that we are feeling this loss as much as you are.”
Rosalina nods for a moment, before taking Hecuba’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
“You’re not. As long as you are a Valkyrie, you never will be.”
There’s a sharp irony to that statement, given everything that Rosalina had put into her duty as a Valkyrie, but she knows she needs to keep moving forward. She nods, before starting to shift to her feet. “I should probably clean up. It wouldn’t do to let Odin see me like this.”
“I’m sure he would understand if you wanted to take more time.”
“No,” she says firmly, before giving a small nod in agreement. “One foot in front of the other, yes? That’s the only way this is going to work.”
Hecuba nods again, a small smile crossing her face that’s more bittersweet than anything else. “Yes,” she nods as they begin to move back towards their rooms. “One foot in front of the other.”