Blog

Credits: Nik / Omega
Music: Vibes

Based off threads between the writer of Nik and Valkyrie(me)

  The door to her home clicked shut behind him, but Valkyrie didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. She knew who it was—who he always was. Nik. He had been trailing in her shadow for years, never asking for anything more than to be close to her. And for what? A deal they had made so long ago, she hardly remembered the details anymore. Yet, here he was, loyal as ever. Valkyrie hadn’t expected him to uphold his end of the bargain for this long. He was relentless in his servitude, and though she'd never admit it, that loyalty tugged at the raw edges of her heart. A part of her—a small, dangerous part—was pleased by his devotion. But she kept that buried deep. There was no room for sentimentality in her world.

  Even after her disappearance, he had remained at the threshold, waiting. Always waiting. Valkyrie didn’t cave to anyone’s desires, and she had made that clear. Yet, there had been moments, brief flickers of weakness, where she had allowed herself to yield to his minor pleas. It was rare, but it happened.

  They had survived so much together, more than either of them should have, but Valkyrie never showed gratitude. It wasn’t her style. It didn’t fit the image she needed to project. Besides, their time together was running out. She could feel it, like a frayed thread slipping through her fingers, unraveling too fast to stop. She wished—silently, always silently—that things could be different. That she could tell him to stay, to never leave her. But she didn’t. She never would. Love? No, it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Still, there was something in his presence that stirred a dangerous sense of contentment. A sense she couldn’t afford to indulge in.

  A movement from behind her caught her attention, dragging her focus away from the backyard and the elusive sliver of happiness she’d been clutching for far too long. She stiffened, her gaze sharp as it cut through the silence. “Did I not tell you to leave?” The words sliced through the air, cold and sharp, her tone edged with condescension. Valkyrie rarely took this demeanor with Nik—others bore the brunt of her abuse, but not him. Never him. Yet, now, something dark and wild was rising within her, a tempest of emotions she couldn’t control. Her servants were gone, all of them, either freed or dead. Only Nik remained, and that unsettled her in ways she couldn’t admit.

  Valkyrie pushed herself up from her seat at the simple wooden table, her movements deliberate, precise. The heels of her tall black boots scraped against the floor as she pushed in her chair—a task that was usually Nik’s. Everything was usually Nik’s responsibility. As she turned, a near-empty bottle of red wine toppled to the floor, shattering with a crash. She didn’t flinch, her eyes locked on him, blazing with a barely restrained fury. “I told you to leave,” she repeated, her voice clear, even though intoxication was relatively obvious. Her tone grew more feral now; angry even.

  Before he could react, she was on him, her hand fisting in the collar of his shirt as she slammed him against the wall. Valkyrie was no ordinary woman—she was a force of nature, her rage and strength both her greatest assets and her greatest weaknesses. “You keep coming back,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, her breath warm against his skin.

  Why did his presence enrage her so much? Why did his loyalty gnaw at her sanity? It was in her nature, she supposed. The daughter of a berserker, her temper flared over the smallest of provocations. But it was more than that. She was doing this for him, to protect him. She had already sacrificed herself once to save him—traded her freedom for torture, experimentation, and the horror of an unwanted childbirth. And yet, she had never told him. He didn’t know the cost of her protection. He didn’t know how much she had given up.

  Nik had found her broken body, nursed her back to health, and waited for an explanation that never came. Valkyrie’s eyes fluttered shut as she took in the scent of him, the warmth of his body pinned beneath her hands. She had always wanted to be this close to him, to touch him, to toy with him in ways that would leave him trembling. Her grip loosened, just for a moment, as she breathed him in. “You don’t listen, Nik,” she whispered, her tone softening into something dangerously seductive. Her eyes opened slowly, locking onto his, a predator sizing up her prey. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Her gaze slid over his exposed collarbone, tracing the line of his jaw down to his lips. With a sudden, fierce need, she pulled him closer and kissed him. Her lips pressed against his, soft at first, but the kiss deepened quickly, an uncontrollable hunger driving her actions. His heart was racing beneath her touch, but it wasn’t passion that fueled it. It was fear. And Valkyrie could taste it.

  Her golden eyes began to shift, the familiar hue slowly morphing into a deep, electric purple—a dangerous sign of the void within her. Her focus shifted to her hand, still clenched around the fabric of his shirt. “You came back? You disobeyed me?” she whispered, her voice laced with a dark edge. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the peace lasted only a heartbeat before she hurled him across the room. The impact rattled the old wooden floorboards, small cracks splintering beneath his weight.

  Valkyrie’s hand rose slowly, her palm facing upward. A thick, ghostly purple smoke began to coil down her arm, forming a familiar shape in her hand. The smoke solidified into her scythe, the weapon that had torn through countless enemies and worlds alike. Nik had seen it before, but the sight of it now seemed to sap the color from his face. Without a second glance at him, Valkyrie slashed upward, the scythe ripping a tear in the fabric of their world. The rift opened wide, revealing the desolate wasteland of the Void—a barren realm of chaos, shrouded in perpetual cloud cover and laced with flickers of violet lightning. This was her domain. It was nothing and everything all at once. And it belonged to her.

  Valkyrie’s gaze shifted back to Nik as her scythe dissipated into smoke once more. He was frail, shaken, but she knew there was more to him. She wanted to see that potential—wanted to drag it out of him, even if it meant breaking him in the process. As he struggled to his feet, she closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his, caging him against the wall. “I would have liked for you to stay with me forever,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost tender, as her right hand pressed against the wall beside his head. Her gaze searched his, conflicting emotions warring within her. She wanted to take him, to claim him, to make him hers in every way. But she couldn’t. Not like this.

  With a final, reluctant sigh, she tightened her grip on his shirt and threw him into the open void. Her heels echoed through the empty room as she watched him fall, disappearing into the chaos of the dimension she had torn open. His body tumbled further and further away until it hit the barren wasteland below with a dull thud. The last thing he saw before the rift slammed shut was her face, cold and unforgiving.

  “I really would have liked for you to stay with me forever…” Valkyrie repeated, her voice barely a whisper as she stood alone in the silence of her home. Her gaze drifted to the now-closed rift, her expression hardening. “But you’re too weak.”