The cool London breeze drifted gently through the streets that afternoon, carrying with it the faint scent of recent rain mingled with the urban perfume of ancient stone and constant movement. Unlike the underworld, where everything seemed 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 something about him that inevitably made the surrounding environment... react. People passed by without quite realizing why they avoided crossing too close, while the space itself seemed 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 something natural about her that attracted attention, something that didn’t require effort, it just... happened. Still, at that moment, 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 moment to speak—not out of necessity, but out of habit.

"...I came to see if my goddess is alright," he said simply.

The reaction was immediate.

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 amusement that wasn’t exactly provocative—but wasn’t innocent either.

Aphrodite let out a small sigh, bringing her hand to her face for a moment, 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 movement 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 seemed 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 moment.

"...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 name hung in the air.

Aphrodite didn’t react immediately.

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 moment, glancing at the street, as if organizing her thoughts before answering.

"...is there something 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 name 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 mean 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 something..." she said, her voice firmer, 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 statement.

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 immediately.

His eyes wandered for a brief moment, analyzing something beyond the visible, as if mentally 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 same naturalness as someone 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 something trivial," she commented.

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 moment, gazing at the flowers behind the shop window, as if comparing something 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 time—

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 immediately 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 something that could be avoided.

Aphrodite then opened the door of the flower shop, the small bell above it ringing softly with the movement.

"...when you return..." she said, looking over her shoulder.

"...let me 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 something about to happen.

...

The silence in Vanaheim wasn’t just the absence of sound.

It was weight.

It was presence.

It was something that accumulated on the skin, that seeped into the bones, that became part of the very perception of time 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 same 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 remembering that she still existed, that she still had form, that she was still something beyond that curse that kept her there, trapped, immutable, forgotten.

Time... didn’t pass there.

Or perhaps it passed too slowly.

Slow to the point of becoming cruel.

There was a time when she counted the days.

Then, the years.

Then... she stopped.

Because it no longer made sense.

Because each cycle seemed identical to the previous one, each thought returned to the same point, each attempt to maintain sanity dissolved in the infinite repetition of that absolute confinement.

She closed her eyes.

She breathed.

She inhaled the same still air as always.

And for a moment... she wondered, not for the first time, if she was already dead.

Not physically.

But... in everything that mattered.

"Queen Valkyrie..."

The title echoed in her mind like a distant memory, almost unrecognizable, like something 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. Confinement.

A "pet."

The word still burned.

Even after so much time.

Especially after so much time.

Her lips twitched slightly, a trace of bitterness crossing her expression before disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Even emotions... had become difficult to sustain there. Everything seemed 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 something new.

Something recent.

Something 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 something emerge from it.

Nothing happened.

But still...

She felt it.

A change.

Subtle.

Distant.

But real.

"Vergil..."

The name came out low, almost a whisper, as if afraid of breaking something by pronouncing it too loudly. As if it were something fragile, something 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 something 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 remembered.

The contract.

The presence.

That absurd energy that crossed dimensions 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.

Something that Odin had imposed as absolute... wavered.

It was minimal.

Almost nonexistent.

But for someone like her...

That was everything.

Her fingers closed slightly against her own clothes.

"Thousands of years..."

Her voice was firmer this time, carrying something that hadn’t been there in a long time: intention.

"Thousands... of years... and this is the first time..."

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 come..."

It wasn’t a question.

Nor was it a blind statement.

It was... something 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 remembered too.

The other presence.

Firm.

Cutting. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

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 former Valkyrie Queen.

Reduced to waiting.

To depending.

To wishing someone would come... to save her.

If someone 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 time... there wasn’t just emptiness.

There was expectation.

Anxious.

Uncomfortable.

Alive.

"Come quickly..."

The word echoed within her, not as despair... but as contained urgency, like someone 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."