*Eleanor*
“You are beautiful, Ost Minn,” I hear from behind me. I turn and find my love, my Erik, walking toward me.
I look around us, trying to figure out where we are. There is a grassy field for as far as I can see, lush and green, sprinkled with the same little white flowers they put in my hair when Erik and I married. I want to lay in it and let the sun warm my skin. But Erik is here. But Erik is dead.
“I don’t understand,” I admit to him as he approaches me.
“We’re on the road to Folkvang,” he says, taking my hand.
“I… I am not a warrior,” I say. “Why would Freyja choose me? I cannot fight in her army.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek, leaning his forehead against mine. His touch. His skin against mine. “She has not chosen you for her army. She chose you long ago, Os
