The golden halls of Asgard gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, their resplendent light reflecting off the polished stone floors and the intricate mosaics that adorned the walls. In the grand training arena, a fierce battle raged. Warriors, clad in shining armor and wielding weapons that sung with the power of the gods, clashed with precision and ferocity. Amidst the chaos, one figure stood out—Erika, a Valkyrie of unparalleled skill and unmatched arrogance.

Erika moved through the arena with the grace and confidence of a predator, her every step purposeful, her every strike deadly. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a braid that swung like a whip as she fought, her piercing eyes locked onto her opponents with a cold intensity. The other warriors, formidable in their own right, struggled to keep up with her relentless assault. She was a force of nature, a living embodiment of Asgard's might.

With a swift, fluid motion, Erika disarmed one of her sparring partners, a fellow Valkyrie named Astrid. The clash of metal against metal rang through the arena as Erika's sword sent Astrid's weapon flying from her grasp. In a heartbeat, Erika had her blade at Astrid's throat, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yield," Erika commanded, her voice dripping with condescension.

Astrid, breathing heavily, glared at Erika but knew better than to refuse.

"I yield," She said through gritted teeth.

Erika stepped back, lowering her sword, "You're getting slow, Astrid. Perhaps you should consider retirement."

Before Astrid could respond, a booming voice echoed through the arena, "Enough!"

All heads turned to see Odin, the Allfather, standing at the edge of the training grounds. His presence commanded immediate respect and silence. Clad in his regal armor, with his one eye burning with the wisdom and authority of millennia, Odin was an imposing figure.

Erika sheathed her sword and approached Odin, her arrogance undiminished.

"Allfather," She greeted, bowing her head slightly.

Odin's expression was stern, his gaze piercing, "Erika, your prowess in battle is undeniable, but your arrogance and disregard for your comrades have become intolerable."

Erika's smirk faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, "I only push them to be better, Allfather. To strive for greatness."

"Greatness?" Odin's voice was cold, "You seek to elevate yourself above all others, not to uplift them. Your actions sow discord among your sisters and brothers."

Erika's jaw tightened, "I am the best. They should strive to match me."

Odin's expression darkened, "Your hubris blinds you. You have forgotten the virtues of humility, camaraderie, and honor. You act as if you are above reproach, above the laws and traditions of Asgard."

The tension in the arena was palpable. The other warriors watched in silence, knowing that a confrontation between Erika and Odin could have severe consequences.

Erika's defiance did not waver, "I am a Valkyrie. I fight for Asgard. I have earned my place through blood and sweat."

"You have earned nothing but disdain with your arrogance," Odin retorted, "You are a leader in name only, for you have failed to inspire respect and loyalty. Instead, you breed resentment and division."

Erika's eyes flashed with anger, "I do not need their loyalty. I need only my strength."

Odin's face hardened, his decision resolute, "Then you have no place among the Valkyries, nor in Asgard."

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Erika's defiance faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty, "What do you mean?"

Odin raised his hand, and a shimmering portal opened behind him, its edges crackling with energy, "Erika, for your insolence and your failure to embody the true spirit of a Valkyrie, I hereby cast you out of Asgard. You will be exiled to Midgard, the realm of mortals, where you will live out your days without the honor of returning to Valhalla."

Erika's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, "You cannot do this! I am a Valkyrie!"

"You were a Valkyrie," Odin corrected.

Two guards stepped forward, their expressions somber as they moved to escort Erika to the portal. She struggled against them, her pride refusing to accept her fate.

With a final, desperate effort, Erika broke free from the guards and charged at Odin, her eyes blazing with fury. But before she could reach him, a wave of energy from the portal engulfed her, pulling her inexorably towards it. She fought against the force, but it was too powerful. As she was dragged into the portal, she cast one last, defiant look at Odin.

The portal closed behind Erika, leaving the arena in stunned silence. The other warriors exchanged uneasy glances, knowing that they had witnessed a pivotal moment in Asgard's history.

Erika's arrival on Earth was abrupt and jarring. The portal deposited her unceremoniously in a remote forest, far from any signs of civilization. She stumbled to her feet, her mind reeling from the sudden change in environment. The lush greenery and the sounds of wildlife were a stark contrast to the grandeur of Asgard. The year was 1985, and the world she found herself in was both alien and mundane.

Erika took a moment to gather her bearings, her mind racing with anger and confusion. She had been cast out, exiled to a world that was beneath her. Her pride and arrogance had led to her downfall, and now she faced an uncertain future among mortals.

For the first time in centuries, Erika felt a pang of vulnerability. She was alone, stripped of her status and her home.

She stepped into the dimly lit tavern in the small Norwegian town of Trondheim. The tavern was a rustic establishment with wooden beams and flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. It was the kind of place that welcomed weary travelers and locals alike, its air thick with the scent of ale and roast meat.

The heavy door creaked open, drawing the attention of the patrons inside. They looked up from their conversations, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in the figure standing in the doorway. She stood tall and proud, her Asgardian armor gleaming despite the grime of her recent journey. Her sword was strapped to her back, her spear resting against the doorframe. She was a vision of strength and authority, an echo of divine power in this humble, earthly setting.

Her entrance caused a brief silence, the kind that precedes a storm. As the murmur of the tavern resumed, she strode purposefully to the bar, her boots making a solid thud against the wooden floor. The bartender, a stout man with a bushy beard and a skeptical expression, watched her with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

She planted herself on a stool at the bar, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the room. She was used to being the center of attention, but here, among these mortals, it felt strangely out of place. Her sense of superiority, honed over centuries of Asgardian rule, clashed with the realization that here, she was just another outsider.

The bartender approached, his demeanor friendly but wary.

"What can I get you, stranger?" He asked, his accent thick and his eyes taking in Nevaeh's imposing figure.

"I need something strong," She replied tersely, her voice carrying the sharp edge of her frustration, "Something to forget."

The bartender nodded and went to fetch a tankard of ale. She leaned on the bar, her mind still reeling from the abrupt change in her circumstances. She had been a Valkyrie, a warrior of unmatched power, and now she was reduced to seeking solace in a tavern, among people who neither recognized nor respected her.

As she waited, a rough-looking man in the corner of the room, his face lined with age and hard living, eyed her with interest. He stood up, weaving slightly as he approached her. His clothes were simple, and his hands were rough from labor. He seemed to be one of the local fishermen, a life of toil evident in his weathered features.

"Good evening, lady," He said, his voice slurred with the effects of drink, "You don't look like you're from around here. What's your name?"

Her hand twitched towards her sword, but she paused, considering the question. Her name felt foreign now, a relic of a past she could no longer reclaim. It was a name tied to a time when she had stood tall in Asgard, a time when she had been revered and feared. She had lost that identity, cast out and left to navigate this new world on her own.

In a moment of introspection, she decided to give herself a new name, one that fit the new reality she faced.

"Nevaeh," She said finally, her voice softer than before.

The bartender returned with the tankard, placing it before Nevaeh with a nod of sympathy. She took it gratefully, her fingers gripping the handle as if it were a lifeline. The ale was strong and bitter, the taste a stark contrast to the refined mead of Asgard. But it was something she could focus on, a way to numb the sting of her exile.

She took a long, deep drink, the alcohol burning a path down her throat. The warmth spread through her, but it did little to ease the cold ache of her loneliness. She felt eyes on her again, the curiosity of the townsfolk mingling with the old memories she tried to push away.

As she drank, the rough-looking man continued to watch her, his gaze thoughtful. He eventually made his way back to his table, but not before casting one last look over his shoulder. Nevaeh's gaze followed him, her thoughts swirling as she wrestled with her sense of loss and the bitter reality of her new existence.

The tavern was a far cry from the grandeur of Asgard, but it was a place where she could momentarily blend into the background, where she could be just another soul in search of something more. She watched the other patrons with a detached interest, noting their simple joys and mundane conversations. They were a world apart from the grandeur and conflict she had left behind.

As the evening wore on, Nevaeh found herself sinking deeper into her thoughts. The ale had not brought her the solace she sought, and the bustling noise of the tavern seemed to mock her. The lively atmosphere, so alien to her current state, felt like a reminder of everything she had lost.

Her reverie was interrupted when a group of young men, clearly inebriated and full of bravado, stumbled into the tavern. They laughed loudly, their voices carrying over the din of the room. One of them, a tall and broad-shouldered fellow, spotted Nevaeh and his eyes widened with what seemed like awe.

"Look at her!" He exclaimed to his friends, "Is that a sword?"

The others laughed and nodded, their attention drawn to Nevaeh. She shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, her pride bristling at the comparison to a deity. She was no god, though she had once been revered as such. Now, she was just a fallen warrior trying to find her place in a world that had no place for her.

The tall man approached her, his steps unsteady.

"You really do look like something from old tales," He said, his voice a mix of admiration and drunken haze.

Nevaeh's eyes flashed with a mix of annoyance and weariness, "I am simply a traveler."

The man's face fell, his excitement dimming, "Oh. I thought you might be someone important."

Nevaeh's heart sank at the reminder of her lost status. The townsfolk's fascination with her was tinged with a misplaced reverence, a stark contrast to the respect she once commanded. The encounter served as a painful reminder of her fall from grace.

She finished her ale in silence, her thoughts heavy with the weight of her exile. The noise of the tavern faded into the background as she grappled with the reality of her new life. The grandeur of Asgard, the glory she once knew, seemed like a distant dream.

As the night wore on and the tavern grew quieter, Nevaeh finished her drink and prepared to leave. She stood up, her armor clinking softly as she moved. The patrons glanced at her with curiosity and respect, but Nevaeh felt only a deep sense of disconnection.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Nevaeh took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. The stars above were a reminder of the vastness of the universe and her own insignificance in this new world. She was no longer a Valkyrie of Asgard but a lone warrior on Earth, struggling to find her place.

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[ what do we think so far? ]