—✩—

Maya hated taking the bus home in the afternoon. 

Not only was it stuffy and crammed, but there were one too many boneheads driving with her. Thinking they could bump at her accidentally or pull on her coils because they were “unique and interesting”. 

She couldn’t wait to get out, plop down and unwind with instant microwaved food. 

“Mmm, lasagne sounds good right now.” Maya’s mouth was watering from the thought. 

Though Maya once again forgot that she had a Valkyrie at home. The smell of freshly cooked food invaded her nostrils when she opened the front door. 

The warm and spicy scent of beef, potatoes, carrots, swede, and leeks boiling into a stew made Maya blind from reverie. She opened the lid and saw that the meat and vegetables were tender, flowing with brown sauce.

Hunger pains gripped her.   

“You’re. Home.” Val greeted Maya with a smile and put her hands on her shoulder. 

Maya almost had a heart attack from the sudden touch and looking at Val’s new outfit. 

It wasn’t something extravagant. Still, Maya’s heart could barely take it. 

Val wore blue jeans and a loose t-shirt with the ends tied to reveal her midriff and abdominal muscles—with which she could shred cheese if you asked Maya. 

In her hands, she held an apron she used while cooking—Maya cursed for being too late to see her in it—but she was also glad Val wasn’t wearing it. 

She wouldn’t have survived seeing it. Her face was already overheating—fanning was getting strenuous.

Having bought the outfits for her and sharing some of hers, Maya thought she was prepared and used to looking at the Valkyrie by now—she was woefully wrong. 

“Cooked some dinner. For us.” Val gestured to the kitchen area. “Sit, relax. I’ll be. There, shortly.” 

Val carried two plates in her hands and gracefully placed them down on the table, one before Maya and one for herself. 

She brushed back her hair on the left side and tugged it behind her ear. They were braided on that side, blending in well with her wavy hair. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Val, noticing Maya’s stare. “You’re not. Eating.” 

“Ah, sorry, I got distracted.” Maya shook her head and took a bite. 

Maya rarely cooked because she was a terrible cook. 

Instead, she mostly ate instant food, takeout, or poorly cooked dishes with eggs since they were the only thing she couldn't mess up… sometimes.

It was such a chore that Maya disliked whatever she cooked and just went with whatever she felt hungry for. Snacking a bit too much was also a bothersome trait. Her diet suffered a lot from it, but university drained too much energy from her, and she couldn’t help bothering about it after a long day. 

She was terrible at handling stress.

With Val here, Maya got home-cooked meals nearly three times a day which tasted like they came from heaven itself. She would never trade her for anyone or anything else. 

“What is the stew called? It’s good.” 

“Lapskaus,” answered Val with her typical accent. “Norwegian dish. Easy to cook. Great for many. People.” 

“Do you cook often?” 

Blowing at her food, Val took a bite. “Yes, lots of. Dead.” 

The word sent a shiver down Maya’s spine. “Dead? Like those Draugr zombies?” 

Val grimaced irritatingly. “No Draugr. We serve only. Worthy Warriors. Cook and Serve. Food and Beer. Draugr are evil. Malicious.” 

That was one of the longest instances she heard Val talk—even containing instances of her own life. 

So far, Maya could barely get anything out of Val or help jog her memory. “This is my chance to help her.” 

“Are there many of those, ehm, undead warriors?” 

“Thousands.” Val took another bite. “Serving the All-Father. We bring them. To the Hall. When they died. Valiantly. Becoming Einherjar.”

“‘Einherjar’.” Maya knew the word. “Austin told me they are the warriors to prepare for the apocalypse. Valkyries scoop them up the moment they died in battle.” 

Maya gave another look at Val. She often had to remember how special Val was. Despite her impressive background and appearance, she still looked like an ordinary woman. 

Maya felt lucky to have her sit before her.

“Have you been a Valkyrie for long?”

“I- hmm.” Val placed down her spoon and ruffled the braided side of her head. “Not. Remember. I.” 

“Oh no, not good. Her speech pattern is breaking!” 

Whenever Val remembered certain things in her past, it impeded her ability to speak. It was as if her brain was blocking multiple accesses at once.

“Yesterday was so bad that Val could only smile and moved like a rusty robot waiting for a Windows update.” Maya shuddered at the thought. “Better change the subject, asap!” 

“Valkyries are mostly women, no?” Maya spread out her hands and chuckled nervously. “Sounds like a lucky place to be, haha.” 

“Idiot!” Maya grew red. “What in Hel’s name are you babbling about!?” 

Val smiled brightly. “Your laugh. It’s adorable.” 

“Ah, thanks, haha.” Maya couldn’t hide her pleased expression, though her face changed to a deeper hue of red. “Appreciate the compliment. I love your smile.” 

“Fooooool!” Maya screeched inside her head. “Stop talking. You’re just embarrassing us!” 

“I knooooow!” Maya yelled back. “What am I supposed to do!?” 

“How should I know!?” Maya’s brain cried back; then it got an idea. “I know. Let’s go with Plan T. Just finish the food and stop talking!” 

“Good thinking brain.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m the smart one.”

Compared to others, Val was a slow eater. It wasn’t really something she found joy in—or in cooking.

She couldn’t remember much of her life as a Valkyrie, only glimpses and fragments. 

It told her about the more stressful days outside of the battlefield. Moments when her cooking went unappreciated or how tired she often was afterwards. 

Imagine cooking for thousands of unruly and undead feasting warriors and getting the occasional rowdy comment. That’s what her subconscious told her when she took a passive bite.

Yet watching Maya laugh from joy, her face turning red whenever she was flustered or her eyes twinkling whenever they locked eyes, made Val happy to be there. 

Even more so how much she appreciated her cooking like no one else ever did. Somehow, the next bite had more taste in it. Seeing Maya finishing her meal with an expressive amount of pleasure was more than Val could have asked for. 

“How was the food?” Val asked, resting her chin on her hand. “Did you enjoy it?” 

Maya licked her glossy pink lips with dimples forming on the corners of her mouth. “A thousand times better than my cooking. Never leave, please. It’s too good.” 

“Sure,” Val replied with a twinkle. “I won’t. I’ll cook for you. Every day.” 

“I-” Maya’s cheeks reddened up to her ears, feeling more than a little abashed. “I’d like that. A lot.” 

“HEL YES!” her brain screamed.

“Do you want. Seconds?” 

Maya shook her hands before her. “It’s good, but I shouldn’t-” her stomach audibly grumbled. Maya covered her face in shame. “Yes… please.” 

Val laughed and stood up. She rested her hand briefly on Maya’s shoulder and looked into her blue eyes. “Be right back, dúllan mín.”