Chapter 719

"What in the Nine Realms is going on?!"

Inside the vision, Frigga had experienced what felt like an eternity. She had endured countless cycles of destruction, failure, and despair, each repetition seeming to stretch across ages.

Outside, however, less than ten minutes had passed.

For Odin and Thor, those minutes had been agonizing.

Both Frigga and Sif had opened their eyes after drinking the fel blood, but the similarities ended there. Sif had regained consciousness shortly afterward and appeared perfectly healthy. Frigga, on the other hand, remained unresponsive, her gaze vacant and her mind seemingly lost somewhere beyond their reach.

How could they not be worried?

With no other explanation available, they turned to Evenson.

Unfortunately, he was just as baffled.

He had used a life-linking spell to connect Frigga and Sif. They had been exposed to the same poison and had consumed fel blood of identical concentration. Yet one woman had recovered completely, while the other looked like she had fallen into a coma.

How was that supposed to make sense?

Evenson scrambled for an explanation.

"The queen was the original victim. The poison had more time to spread through her system, so she may need longer to recover."

Odin and Thor studied him for another moment before finally easing off.

Evenson silently rolled his eyes.

Before the treatment, everyone had been overflowing with gratitude. They’d promised rewards, accepted every risk, and practically begged him to proceed. But once the patient had been treated, even the smallest complication could turn that gratitude into murderous resentment.

Human nature. Some things never changed, even when the humans in question were gods.

Still, Evenson couldn’t help wondering what was happening to Frigga.

Her life had been linked to Sif’s. Now that Sif was fully recovered and practically bursting with energy, Frigga’s body should have been fine as well.

And it was.

Evenson could sense the queen’s life force, and it was astonishingly vigorous. There was no indication of injury or illness. She could probably leap out of bed and announce that she had another fifty thousand years left in her without missing a beat.

Yet she remained mentally absent.

Which meant the problem wasn’t physical.

It was psychological.

And that presented a rather awkward challenge.

How exactly was he supposed to treat a mental condition in the queen of Asgard?

Should he ask Odin to clear the room so that he could conduct an intimate, high-synchronization exchange of minds with his wife?

Evenson doubted the king would appreciate the suggestion.

While he was still debating his options, something changed.

He frowned.

Frigga’s life force was increasing.

Not gradually, either. It was surging at an astonishing rate.

Then her vacant eyes suddenly lit up.

Her body rose straight into the air, lifting off the bed without any visible effort. She drifted toward the center of the hall as a series of sharp cracks echoed through her body.

The sounds were disturbingly similar to bones and joints shifting under enormous pressure.

Odin and Thor stared in alarm.

They were just about to demand an explanation from Evenson when something even more astonishing happened.

Frigga began to grow.

Her body expanded at an extraordinary rate, rapidly transforming until she towered over everyone in the room.

It looked almost as though she were going through puberty for a third time, except this growth spurt was taking her straight into giant territory.

Fortunately, her clothes didn’t tear apart in the process.

Instead, a suit of black armor appeared over her body, its surface traced with vivid green markings. A long sword materialized in her hand.

Odin breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

At least his wife hadn’t ended up looking like the Hulk.

He had no idea how he would explain that to the rest of Asgard.

When the transformation finally stopped, the difference in scale was staggering. Even Thor, who was hardly a small man himself, barely came up to his mother’s waist.

"What is this supposed to mean?!"

Thor’s composure shattered.

He seized Evenson by the collar and demanded, "Why has my mother turned into a giant? What happened to her?!"

He nearly blurted out a far less dignified description of the transformation before catching himself.

Evenson opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Before he could invent an explanation, a powerful gust of wind swept through the hall.

Everyone turned.

A pair of enormous green wings had appeared on Frigga’s back.

Their wingspan stretched nearly six meters.

They weren’t smooth, leathery membranes like a bat’s wings. These were magnificent feathered wings, resembling those of an angel, except that every feather carried an unmistakable green glow.

The wings beat repeatedly, generating the powerful gusts that swept through the room.

Evenson stared in astonishment.

"Fel preserve us..."

His mind raced.

Is that a Valkyr?

No.

It couldn’t be.

That wasn’t a conventional Valkyrie.

That was a Fel Valkyr.

Evenson had heard the stories from Azeroth.

Among the Vrykul, women possessed extraordinary potential. Under the influence of certain supernatural forces, they could undergo remarkable transformations.

Through the power of death, a worthy Vrykul woman might become a pale, spectral servant of death known as a Val’kyr. Alternatively, those chosen by Eyir could receive golden wings and become Val’kyr of the honored dead.

But the Burning Legion’s invasion had introduced the Vrykul to another source of power.

Fel.

Unlike the forces associated with death or Eyir, fel seemed to merge more readily with male Vrykul. The first powerful Vrykul to embrace it had all been men.

Among them was Skovald, who had proclaimed himself a god-king.

Yet another legend had survived.

If a woman of pure Vrykul blood fully embraced fel and endured the trials that followed, she could undergo a transformation beyond anything achieved by her male counterparts. Her power would rise to extraordinary heights, potentially allowing her to contend with a Titan Keeper.

Such beings were known as Fel Valkyr.

It was only a legend, but Evenson knew it was real.

He hadn’t witnessed one firsthand before arriving in this world.

He had, however, read the official Blizzard blue posts.

That counted for something.

At that moment, the Skull of the Man’ari, Sargeras’s corrupted Artifact Weapon, stirred inside Evenson’s inventory.

Its sudden agitation seemed almost eager.

Defeat her, and I’ll get a new appearance!

Evenson nearly choked.

Good grief.

Had he made the fel concentration too high in his determination to ensure the treatment worked? Or was Frigga’s bloodline simply so extraordinary that it had reacted in an unprecedented way?

Probably both.

Either way, he’d somehow transformed the Queen of Asgard into a Fel Valkyr.

How was he supposed to explain that to Odin?

He had turned the king’s wife into a towering armored warrior with enormous wings.

Granted, the result was rather impressive. But there were practical concerns to consider.

For one thing, Odin might have trouble reaching certain places now.

Then again, given the king’s age, perhaps that wasn’t much of an issue anymore.

Evenson immediately decided to stop thinking about it.

Odin and Thor, meanwhile, had fixed him with matching stares.

Their expressions conveyed a single demand.

Explain.

"Well..." Evenson spread his hands helplessly.

He started to speak, stopped, tried again, and stopped once more.

Finally, he managed to produce something resembling an explanation.

"I did warn you about the possibility of something long appearing. And, technically, this is a rather elongated transformation..."

Odin’s eyes narrowed.

You call that an explanation?

He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he slowly approached his airborne wife.

Frigga sensed him coming.

With a sudden movement, she dropped toward the floor.

The impact cracked the stone beneath her feet. Whether she’d fallen from too great a height or her newly enlarged body simply weighed too much, the result was a small crater.

Then her green wings folded away.

Her enormous body began shrinking until she returned to her original height.

Evenson watched the process with mounting relief.

Oh, thank goodness. She can grow and shrink at will.

That settled one of his biggest concerns.

Unfortunately, his relief lasted only a few seconds.

Frigga turned toward Odin and strode directly to him, the long sword still in her hand.

Odin’s face softened with love and relief.

"My beloved!"

He opened his arms and moved forward to embrace her.

It was a heartwarming reunion.

At least, it would have been if Frigga hadn’t still been holding a sword.

Evenson watched their shadows draw closer across the wall.

A horrible thought crossed his mind.

Please don’t.

He had already seen enough tragic family drama in his life. He didn’t need Asgard to produce its own version of a loving spouse seizing the throne with a blade.

The last thing he wanted was for Frigga to announce that she would be taking Odin’s place as king.

Fortunately, the queen discarded her sword before reaching her husband.

Then she threw her arms around him and held him tightly.

"My love," she whispered. "I never thought I’d see you again."

Evenson finally released the breath he’d been holding.

Thank goodness.

After all that, they had actually managed to reach a happy ending.

For now, at least.

Once Frigga had exchanged a few words with Odin and Thor, she turned her attention to Evenson.

"You must be Evenson Richter."

He straightened.

"My husband and son have told me what you did. I understand that I owe my life to you."

"The queen is too kind," Evenson replied quickly. "Your Majesty and the king are blessed with great fortune. I merely helped things along."

As he bowed his head, he failed to notice the slight twitch of Frigga’s eyebrow when he called her the queen.

"But whatever the circumstances," Frigga continued, "your contribution was invaluable."

She turned toward Odin.

"You must reward him properly."

"Of course."

Odin nodded without hesitation. Now that his wife was alive and apparently well, there was no reason to be stingy.

"Once this crisis is over, you may enter my treasury and choose any one treasure you desire. You have my word. I insist that you accept."

Evenson’s eyes brightened.

"Since Your Majesty has been so generous, I would be a fool to refuse."

And he wasn’t about to play the fool.

"There’s something else," Frigga said, as though a thought had just occurred to her. "I’m only just recovering, and I don’t yet know whether the treatment has completely run its course. I’d like to keep the remaining medicine. Would that be acceptable?"

Evenson hesitated.

He wasn’t particularly keen on leaving a supply of concentrated fel blood in Asgardian hands.

But refusing would be difficult to justify.

He had played the role of physician throughout the treatment. Asgard had provided all the sacrificial offerings required to prepare the medicine and had already agreed to pay his fee.

What sort of doctor would then refuse to let the patient keep the remaining medication?

After a moment, he settled on a warning.

"The medicine is extremely potent. Taking too much could do more harm than good. I strongly advise you to use it with caution."

"I understand," Frigga replied.

She turned toward Sif.

"Please move the barrel and cups somewhere safe."

Evenson watched helplessly as Sif collected the remaining fel blood.

He wanted to ask whether she could at least leave the barrel and cups behind.

Those were his!

But he swallowed the complaint.

Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting.

"Well..." Frigga suddenly furrowed her brow and adopted the weary expression of someone struggling through a difficult recovery. "I’m still rather exhausted. I think I’d like to rest for a while."

"Of course. I won’t disturb you any longer."

Evenson bowed respectfully and took his leave.

Odin and Thor soon followed.

They were nearly at the doorway when Frigga’s voice drifted after them.

"Sif, stay behind. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you."

The others glanced at the warrior but saw nothing unusual in the request.

They had spent most of the reunion thanking Evenson, almost overlooking Sif’s contribution to the rescue.

She had risked her own life to save Frigga. It was only natural that the queen would want to reward her personally.

Once the others had departed, Sif bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty, what would you have me do?"

Frigga reclined on a couch, looking far more relaxed than she had moments earlier.

"You risked your life to save me. That devotion has moved me deeply. I intend to reward you. Tell me, what do you desire?"

Devotion?

Not merely loyalty.

Frigga had called it filial devotion.

Sif’s heart leaped.

Could this mean what she hoped it meant?

She was tempted to state her request immediately, but she remembered the lessons she’d learned from the political dramas she’d once heard about. The trick was to remain humble, even when success seemed within reach.

"Your Majesty is too generous. I only did what any loyal servant should do. I wouldn’t presume to claim credit for it."

Frigga nodded approvingly.

"Good. I’d assumed you were merely a talented warrior, but it seems you understand how to conduct yourself as well. That’s the sort of woman our family needs."

Sif nearly lost control of her expression.

If she could have done so without compromising her dignity, she might have laughed, rolled across the floor, and celebrated like a child who’d just discovered the world’s greatest treasure.

This is actually happening.

Her gamble might really have paid off.

"I understand what you want," Frigga continued, smiling knowingly.

Then her expression shifted slightly.

"There’s just one thing I’m uncertain about. Do you simply want to spend your life with Thor, or do you also want the position of crown princess?"

Sif hesitated.

Then she answered honestly.

"I only want to be with Thor. Nothing else matters."

Frigga laughed softly.

"Oh, you silly girl. Children think they have to choose. Adults know better. Why settle for one when you can have both?"

Sif looked up sharply, joy flooding her face.

But Frigga’s tone soon became more serious.

"Unfortunately, the royal family cannot treat its affairs as private matters. Thor is the heir to the throne. His marriage cannot be decided by his wishes alone. Otherwise, he would have married that Midgardian woman long ago."

Sif’s smile faltered.

"And you..." Frigga continued, regarding her with a hint of regret, "you have earned great honors through your military service, and now you’ve saved my life as well. But those achievements alone aren’t quite enough to secure the position of crown princess, let alone become the future Queen of Asgard."

Sif’s heart sank.

"Then what do you propose, Your Majesty?"

Frigga turned her gaze toward the distant walls.

"The Dark Elf invasion nearly cost me my life. It made me realize something important."

Her expression hardened.

"Asgard is not as safe as we believe. We’ve enjoyed peace for too long, and we’ve grown complacent about dangers that should never have been ignored."

She paused.

"Once this crisis is over, I intend to rebuild the Valkyrie Corps."

Sif’s eyes widened.

The Valkyries.

For generations, the legendary female warriors had represented one of Asgard’s most prestigious military traditions. Even Thor had once considered disguising himself as a woman to join their ranks.

To restore such an institution would be a momentous undertaking.

But Frigga wasn’t finished.

"And you, Sif..."

Her body expanded once more, returning to the towering armored form she’d assumed earlier. Her magnificent green wings unfurled behind her.

"You are one of Asgard’s finest female warriors. I want you to lead them."

Sif stared up at the queen.

"With command of the Valkyrie Corps, you will no longer be merely a subordinate of the prince. You will become a senior officer of the royal court, entrusted with the military power of Asgard itself."

Frigga’s eyes gleamed.

"With that position behind you, who would dare question your suitability as my son’s wife?"

Sif didn’t need to think.

To join the Valkyries was an honor that generations of Asgardian women had dreamed of. To rebuild their ranks and command them would be a distinction beyond measure.

And it would also clear the path to the man she loved.

There was no reason to refuse.

Sif lowered herself onto one knee.

She bowed her head, looking up at Frigga with reverence.

"Then, Frigga, grant me wings!"