The cool London breeze drifted gently through the streets that afternoon, carrying with it the faint scent of recent rain mingled with the urban perfu of ancient stone and constant movent. Unlike the underworld, where everything seed to exist under permanent tension, there was a peculiar fluidity here—chaotic, yet alive, pulsating in a way that didn’t require constant attention lest it collapse.
Vergil walked along one of the quieter streets, away from the main flow, where small shops lined up with carefully tended facades and windows decorated with a certain artisanal flair. His presence didn’t directly draw attention, but there was sothing about him that inevitably made the surrounding environnt... react. People passed by without quite realizing why they avoided crossing too close, while the space itself seed to adjust slightly to his existence.
Beside him—
Aphrodite.
Her presence, on the other hand, was impossible to completely ignore, even when she clearly wasn’t trying to stand out. There was sothing natural about her that attracted attention, sothing that didn’t require effort, it just... happened. Still, at that mont, she walked with relative ease, as if the scenery were too familiar to require any special posture.
She turned her head slightly, observing Vergil sideways, her eyes carrying a curiosity that had been there since the beginning of the journey.
"So..." she began, with a slight smile at the corner of her lips, "what exactly brought you here?"
Vergil kept his gaze ahead for a few more steps before answering, as if carefully choosing the exact mont to speak—not out of necessity, but out of habit.
"...I ca to see if my goddess is alright," he said simply.
The reaction was imdiate.
Aphrodite froze.
Not in her step.
But in her body.
It was subtle to anyone watching from the outside, but completely evident to anyone paying attention. Her shoulders stiffened for a second, her fingers closed slightly at her sides, and a shiver ran down her skin as an instinctive response to those words.
"...your goddess?" she repeated, now lower, as if testing the sound of the phrase.
Vergil turned his face slightly toward her, observing her reaction with a hint of amusent that wasn’t exactly provocative—but wasn’t innocent either.
Aphrodite let out a small sigh, bringing her hand to her face for a mont, as if trying to regain control.
"You need to stop saying things like that..." she said, shaking her head slightly, though the slight blush on her cheeks belied any attempt to appear completely composed.
A short pause.
"...sooner or later I won’t be able to hold back," she finished, her voice lower now, but carrying a weight that wasn’t just a joke.
Vergil chuckled softly through his nose.
Short.
Controlled.
"...that’s what I hope," he replied.
Without hesitation.
Without correction.
Aphrodite paused for a second.
Just one. But it was enough.
She turned her face forward again, resuming her walk, but now with a slightly different expression—more focused, as if she were actively avoiding looking at him for too long.
"You really don’t make it easy..." she murmured, almost to herself.
They continued walking.
The sound of their footsteps blending into the surroundings, the movent of the city existing around them without directly interfering. And then, after a few more minutes of leisurely walking, they finally arrived.
The flower shop.
Small.
Elegant.
With a glass facade partially covered by plants that seed to have grown organically, but clearly guided by a careful hand. Flowers of various colors stood out in the window, creating a visual composition that caught the eye without seeming excessive.
Vergil stopped in front of the door.
His eyes scanned the place for a mont.
"...here?" he asked.
Aphrodite smiled slightly.
"Yes," she replied simply. There was pride there.
Subtle.
But present.
Vergil nodded slightly.
Then, without further ado—
He spoke.
"...I will fulfill the contract with Freyja."
The na hung in the air.
Aphrodite didn’t react imdiately.
But her gaze shifted.
She leaned slightly against the side of the door, crossing her arms in a relaxed manner, though her focus was completely on him now.
"...I understand," she said.
A short pause.
"So you’re really going to see her," she added.
Vergil nodded.
"Yes."
Simple.
Direct.
Aphrodite looked away for a mont, glancing at the street, as if organizing her thoughts before answering.
"...is there sothing I should know?" Vergil asked then, turning slightly towards her.
There was no concern in his tone.
But there was... consideration.
Aphrodite let out a small sigh.
Thought.
Really.
Her fingers tapped lightly against her own arm as she analyzed possibilities, scenarios, variables that weren’t easy to predict.
"...Odin..." she began, finally.
And the na alone carried enough weight to slightly alter the atmosphere around her.
Odin wasn’t just a problem.
It was a system.
A control point. An entity that didn’t react impulsively, but that... always knew more than it should.
Aphrodite looked back at Vergil.
"...he’s a snake," she said, without softening her tone.
Vergil didn’t react.
But he listened.
"He won’t act in an obvious way," she continued. "If you go there, he’ll probably already know before you even arrive."
A short pause.
"And even if he doesn’t appear directly..." her eyes narrowed slightly, "...that doesn’t an he’s not interfering."
Vergil absorbed the information in silence.
Aphrodite then stepped away from the wall, now facing him completely.
"So, if you’re going to do sothing..." she said, her voice firr, more direct.
"...do it quickly."
Another pause.
"...and disappear."
Vergil kept his gaze on her.
"Go straight back to the underworld." "There... he can’t touch you," she finished.
That wasn’t a guess.
It was a statent.
The underworld wasn’t neutral territory.
It was his domain.
And within that domain...
The rules changed.
Vergil nodded slightly.
"...I understand."
And he truly understood.
Not as a simple warning.
But as a strategic guideline.
Aphrodite then tilted her head slightly, observing him more closely.
"...what’s your plan?" she asked.
Vergil didn’t answer imdiately.
His eyes wandered for a brief mont, analyzing sothing beyond the visible, as if ntally reviewing the already calculated possibilities.
"...if I manage to break the curse..." he began calmly.
"Great."
A short pause.
"...if not..."
He turned his gaze back to her.
"...I kill Freyja."
Silence.
Aphrodite didn’t move.
But her gaze deepened.
"...and reincarnate her as a demon," he finished.
The sentence was spoken with the sa naturalness as soone explaining a simple plan.
Without emotional weight.
Without hesitation.
Just logic.
Aphrodite let out a small laugh.
Low.
Almost incredulous.
"...you say that as if it were sothing trivial," she comnted.
Vergil didn’t answer.
Because, for him—
It was.
Aphrodite crossed her arms again, but now her smile was different.
More... interested.
"...just like Sapphire did with Artemis..." she murmured, connecting the dots.
Vergil nodded.
"Yes."
Aphrodite looked away for a mont, gazing at the flowers behind the shop window, as if comparing sothing in her own mind.
"...that would work," she admitted.
A pause.
"...but it will attract attention."
Vergil didn’t seem worried.
"...it already does," he replied.
And in that—
He was right.
Aphrodite let out another small sigh.
But this ti—
There was a slight smile along with it.
"...fair enough."
She then moved a little closer.
Not invading his space.
But closing the distance.
"Just don’t take too long," she said, more quietly now.
Vergil watched her.
Without imdiately replying.
But then—
He nodded.
"I won’t."
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was... understanding.
They both knew exactly the kind of situation that was developing. And they both knew—
That this wouldn’t be simple.
But also—
That it wasn’t sothing that could be avoided.
Aphrodite then opened the door of the flower shop, the small bell above it ringing softly with the movent.
"...when you return..." she said, looking over her shoulder.
"...let know."
Vergil was already turning to leave.
But he stopped.
For a second.
"...I will let you know," he replied.
And then—
He left.
The city continued.
As always.
But now—
With sothing about to happen.
...
The silence in Vanaheim wasn’t just the absence of sound.
It was weight.
It was presence.
It was sothing that accumulated on the skin, that seeped into the bones, that beca part of the very perception of ti until distinguishing a second from a century ceased to make sense. To any other being, that temple might seem sacred, imposing, even beautiful in its ancient architecture and dense energy. To her... it was just a prison.
Freyja remained seated in the sa place.
She no longer knew how long.
Her fingers touched the cold ground, tracing invisible patterns on the polished stone, not out of distraction... but out of necessity. It was a way of rembering that she still existed, that she still had form, that she was still sothing beyond that curse that kept her there, trapped, immutable, forgotten.
Ti... didn’t pass there.
Or perhaps it passed too slowly.
Slow to the point of becoming cruel.
There was a ti when she counted the days.
Then, the years.
Then... she stopped.
Because it no longer made sense.
Because each cycle seed identical to the previous one, each thought returned to the sa point, each attempt to maintain sanity dissolved in the infinite repetition of that absolute confinent.
She closed her eyes.
She breathed.
She inhaled the sa still air as always.
And for a mont... she wondered, not for the first ti, if she was already dead.
Not physically.
But... in everything that mattered.
"Queen Valkyrie..."
The title echoed in her mind like a distant mory, almost unrecognizable, like sothing that belonged to another person, another life, a version of her that no longer existed.
She had been strength.
Command.
Presence.
The one who guided souls, who decided destinies, who marched among gods and warriors without ever lowering her head.
And now...
Now she was silence. Confinent.
A "pet."
The word still burned.
Even after so much ti.
Especially after so much ti.
Her lips twitched slightly, a trace of bitterness crossing her expression before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Even emotions... had beco difficult to sustain there. Everything seed to wear down faster inside that prison, as if the very concept of intensity was slowly drained from it.
But... not completely.
Because there was sothing new.
Sothing recent.
Sothing that... didn’t fit into that eternal cycle of emptiness.
She opened her eyes again.
Slowly.
And stared at the space before her, as if expecting to see sothing erge from it.
Nothing happened.
But still...
She felt it.
A change.
Subtle.
Distant.
But real.
"Vergil..."
The na ca out low, almost a whisper, as if afraid of breaking sothing by pronouncing it too loudly. As if it were sothing fragile, sothing still forming inside her that could disappear if pressed beyond what was necessary.
She had never waited for anyone.
Not really.
Not after so long.
Expectation was dangerous.
Hope... even worse.
Both had been ripped from her ages ago.
Destroyed.
Trampled.
And yet...
There it was.
A spark.
Small.
Persistent.
Irritating.
But impossible to ignore.
She brought her hand to her chest.
Feeling her own heart.
Beating.
Slowly.
But... different.
Stronger than before.
More... present.
"Do you really exist...?"
The doubt wasn’t about him.
It was about her.
About her own perception.
About her sanity.
Because after so long imprisoned, after so many cycles of absolute isolation... believing in sothing new was too dangerous. Too easy to be an illusion created by her own mind trying to escape an unbearable reality.
But it didn’t seem that way.
It didn’t seem false.
It didn’t seem... empty.
She rembered.
The contract.
The presence.
That absurd energy that crossed dinsions as if there were no barriers.
And, above all—
The break.
The small, almost imperceptible... flaw in the curse.
She felt it.
For an instant.
Sothing that Odin had imposed as absolute... wavered.
It was minimal.
Almost nonexistent.
But for soone like her...
That was everything.
Her fingers closed slightly against her own clothes.
"Thousands of years..."
Her voice was firr this ti, carrying sothing that hadn’t been there in a long ti: intention.
"Thousands... of years... and this is the first ti..."
She paused.
She breathed.
And then a smile appeared.
Small.
Tired.
But... real.
"...that I think I can get out of here."
The phrase hung in the air.
Heavy.
Important.
Dangerous.
Because recognizing it made everything more intense.
Made the wait harder.
Made each second... even longer.
She looked up.
Leaning her head lightly against the cold wall behind her, feeling the texture of the stone as a physical reminder of where she was, that this was still real, that nothing had changed... yet.
"You will co..."
It wasn’t a question.
Nor was it a blind statent.
It was... sothing in between.
A conviction built not on logic, but on necessity.
Because now... she needed to believe.
She needed to.
"You... and that woman..."
Sapphire.
She rembered too.
The other presence.
Firm.
Cutting.
Dangerous.
Different from everything she had ever faced... but still understandable.
Two forces.
Two breaking points.
Two... possible liberators.
Or... destroyers.
She let out a small laugh.
Dry.
Low.
"What irony..."
The forr Valkyrie Queen.
Reduced to waiting.
To depending.
To wishing soone would co... to save her.
If soone had said that before—
She would have killed.
Without hesitation.
But now...
Now she simply accepted it.
Because pride... didn’t open doors.
And that prison—
Couldn’t be broken by pride.
Her eyes closed again.
But this ti... there wasn’t just emptiness.
There was expectation.
Anxious.
Uncomfortable.
Alive.
"Co quickly..."
The word echoed within her, not as despair... but as contained urgency, like soone who has waited too long and now finally sees an exit line, still distant, but visible.
"Before I forget what it’s like... to leave."
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