Free Valkyrie by Kate O'Hearn

something she had never experienced before. Orus was beside her, picking at his own bowl full of the cheesy macaroni and getting it all over his smooth black feathers.
    When she finished, Freya sighed contentedly.
    ‘Does it hurt having them?’ Archie asked as his eyes lingered on her semi-open wings. The way she sat meant the bottom, flight-feathers rested on the floor.
    Freya shrugged. ‘Not really. I’ve always had wings, so I don’t know what it’s like not to have them.’
    ‘But you can’t sleep on your back or sit properly.’ He pointed to the way she had to sit with the chair turned back to front to avoid leaning against her wings.
    ‘No, I guess not. But I can fly, and that makes up for it. There is nothing better than flying really high and pulling in your wings to dive. Right before you hit the ground you open your wings and soar.’
    Archie sighed wistfully. ‘That sounds amazing. I wish I had wings. Then I could fly away from here too.’
    ‘Where would you go?’
    ‘I don’t know, just away.’ Archie pulled open his laptop computer. He paused. ‘You said you can’t tell me your name. But I have to call you something.’
    Freya considered.
    ‘Don’t do it, Freya,’ Orus warned. ‘Don’t give him your true name.’
    She looked at the raven. ‘I’m not going to. I’m just thinking.’ Finally she nodded. ‘I know. Archie, you can call me Greta, just like in the comic.’
    ‘Greta?’ Archie cried. ‘Are you serious? Did you look at her? She’s . . . she’s . . .’
    ‘She’s what?’
    ‘Well, she’s not you. You’re pretty – Gruesome Greta is definitely not.’
    For the first time in her long life, Freya blushed. She had never thought of herself as even remotely pretty. All she was known for in Asgard was being a great flyer. It was her sisters who held all the beauty in the family. ‘You really think I’m pretty?’
    ‘Of course you are,’ Archie said.
    His comment was so unexpected, Freya was lost for words.
    ‘How many times have I said the same thing,’ Orus remarked.
    ‘But, but I’m not,’ Freya said, flushing. ‘My sisters are the beautiful ones, not me.’
    ‘Well, you are,’ Archie said. ‘So I can’t call you Greta.’
    ‘But I like that name.’
    ‘How about I call you Gee? It’s the first letter of the name, but not actually Greta.’
    ‘Gee,’ Freya repeated. ‘All right, you can call me Gee.’
    Archie tilted his head to the side. ‘OK, Gee, if you are a Valkyrie, let’s see what the Internet says about you.’
    Archie started to type on his keyboard. Freya leaned forward to see what the laptop would do.
    ‘OK, here we go,’ Archie said as he started to read aloud. ‘In Norse mythology, a Valkyrie – from Old Norse valkyrja , “chooser of the slain” – is one of a host of winged female figures who decide who dies and wins in battle . . .’ His voice tapered off as he continued to read in stunned silence.
    Freya could feel a mix of doubt and confusion coming from him. ‘We aren’t myths and we don’t always choose who lives or dies. We just collect the souls of the valiant dead and take them to Valhalla.’
    ‘But you do go to battlefields and reap the dying soldiers?’
    ‘That is why I am here.’ Freya explained about her life in Asgard and her First Day Ceremony. She told Archie how she had reaped the soldier, Tyrone Johnson, and how he’d begged her to help his family.
    ‘Can Valkyries do that?’ Archie asked. ‘Can they come here to help people?’
    Orus was still on the table and cawed loudly. ‘Go on, Freya, tell him how you are breaking the rules to be here and what will happen if Odin finds out.’
    ‘What did he say?’ Archie asked, watching the cawing raven.
    Freya sighed. ‘He told me to tell you how I’m breaking the rules by being here. Valkyries are not allowed in Midgard unless it’s to reap warriors’ souls. We aren’t supposed to get involved in human lives. We deal with the dead, not the