Wine and Mead – English Translation

The immortal life staring at the cold marble of what remained of Olympus was painfully tedious. Perhaps she should bless or curse Gabrielle for making her a less frivolous person/goddess, but while in the past, completely frivolous things like creating chaos by making humans of rival houses fall madly in love and in the process drive their families crazy seemed like a delightful pastime, now she felt she needed something more to live for.

For a long time, that something more had been Gabrielle, albeit in an absurdly platonic way, but now, with “everything” resolved, the pieces had fallen back into place—and by piece, she automatically thought of Xena—and Gabrielle enjoyed her final months of pregnancy, the lack of a greater purpose becoming increasingly unsettling.

“Duh, when did I ever want a greater purpose? I just wanted to have fun,” she thought to herself in frustration.

What uplifting hobbies did humans have to feel their existences had meaning, anyway? She tried to read, and it wasn’t that reading wasn’t interesting. Gabrielle’s “borrowed” scrolls were incredibly interesting, but not as interesting as watching the live-action scenes. Perhaps it was one of the few things she still enjoyed in her tedious immortal existence: the ability to perform convenient little tricks, like projecting past scenes from Xena and Gabrielle’s adventures onto a random mirror and spending hours “scrolling” through them, trying to fool herself into thinking it wasn’t just a pretext to see the bard again.

And it was during one of those hours-long sessions watching the object of her affection fighting alongside Xena that a slightly curious figure caught her eye. Aphrodite frowned at the imposing warrior with the striking blond hair and absurdly revealing armor for such a seemingly cold place. Suddenly, boredom gave way to her full attention, her eyes fixed on the “screen,” following the strange blonde’s movements. A few minutes passed, and her attention continued to grow.

“Freaking double agent!” she exclaimed irritably, but her irritated expression quickly changed to something more curious as the minutes passed. Curiosity sometimes turned to indignation and a hint of exasperation at certain scenes.

“As if you’d have a chance with her!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes in disapproval, which she swore had nothing to do with jealousy, and then letting out a satisfied laugh as she watched the blonde in question get completely dumped by Gabrielle.

But it was in the final minutes of that sequence of scenes that her expression softened, becoming more moved and even a little sad.

“Such a sacrifice… For love,” Aphrodite murmured with a hint of regret and remorse, remembering when she couldn’t make a similar sacrifice to save Gabrielle and Eve from her sister, just like Ares had done.

As the final scenes of orange flames reflected in the Goddess’s eyes, an idea slowly began to settle into her thoughts, previously dominated by boredom. Moved by something rare and sincere—perhaps curiosity, perhaps an echo of loneliness, the goddess of love teleported from Olympus and reappeared in the Nordic lands, in the middle of the clearing where a circle of fire had once burned to protect Gabrielle.

It had been a long time since the event, but she didn’t need much… Just a small fragment of that act of love and selflessness. She looked at the surrounding trees, and from the base of one, she plucked a tiny portion of ash trapped in the amber, preserved by the resin. Somehow, that small amber pebble felt warm to the touch.

“That doesn’t seem fair. No one with a heart like that should burn alone forever,” she said to herself, squeezing the amber in her hands and directing a burst of golden sparkle at the small object.

Then she placed the pebble in the middle of the clearing and watched it gradually glow brighter, first in golden and pink hues, then gradually becoming more intense and orange, giving way to intense flames that formed there. The fire flickered, wavered, and then split into petals of light. In the center came the impact of a blast of energy like a falling meteor, and on her knees revealed a naked woman, covered in soot, but alive—Brunhilda, breathing as if the world were new.

She looked up, confused.

“Where am I? Valhalla? Did Ragnarok happen?”

Aphrodite laughed, charmed by the thick Norse accent, which was much more noticeable in person, and the Valkyrie’s perplexed expression.

“Nothing of the sort, sweetie. I am Aphrodite. Goddess of love. Genius of beauty. And officially your cosmic savior.”

Brunhilda struggled to her feet, frowning and revealing her body. The warrior instinct still pulsed through her veins. She studied the figure before her cautiously, searching for threats, lies, and tricks.

“A Greek Goddess?”

“Yes, one of the few remaining,” she said casually, momentarily stunned by the nakedness of the woman before her, though she didn’t intend to admit it. With a deep sigh—and the certainty that if she were mortal, she would be slightly blushing—followed by a gesture of her hands, she summoned a fur cloak and handed it to the Valkyrie to put on, “but also, one of the best.” she said with a wink.

“You summoned me. You made me concrete again, creating a body for my soul that wandered like elemental energy. Why?”

The question hung in the air like an arrow stuck between two hearts. Aphrodite received it with a sigh, sitting gracefully on a nearby rock. Searching for the right words, she opted for sincerity and the obvious.

“Because your sacrifice caught my attention. A Norse Valkyrie. Strong. Proud. With eyes that reflect the storm and a heart capable of burning with love, even a love that would never be returned. Not for glory. Not for a desire for reward. But simply because you loved her. What kind of heart sacrifices like that… without asking for anything in return?”

She didn’t know the answer. But she wanted to know. She wanted to feel. And for the first time in a long time, the desire came not from vanity, nor from amusement, but from genuine curiosity. An impulse that welled up from the heart.

“Gabrielle changed me,” Brunhilda replied simply, directly, as if that summed up all the reasons.

Aphrodite laughed a little sadly.

“It seems we have something in common, sweetie.”

Brunhilda stood tall, imposing, but there was a crack in the ice of her soul, however small.

She, who had been raised with rules and duties, would never expect attention from a goddess, especially one from such a distant land. After everything that happened with Odin, she was naturally hesitant about deities.

“And now…?” she asked hesitantly. “What do you want from me?”

Aphrodite hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t used to showing herself vulnerable, but what else could she offer other than sincerity at this point? What, after all, did she have to lose?

“I confess I hadn’t thought beyond that part of the plan. I’m a liiiittle bit impulsive sometimes. But…” she said, hesitating for a few seconds, taking a deep breath and regaining her typical confidence. After all, she was the Goddess of Love. “Discovering who you are, beyond the flames, seems like a good start.”

Brunhilda exhaled with a hint of indignation.

“Are you flirting with a Valkyrie of Odin, Goddess of Love?”

Aphrodite laughed heartily.

“Who cares about that old rag? You should have seen Xena kick his ass to get the golden apples. If you want, I can tell you about some of the things you missed while you were wandering around. With a little flirting and a few sips of wine, of course,” the goddess replied with a wink, extending a hand to the other blonde.

“I prefer mead,” the Valkyrie replied, narrowing her eyes slightly, a little suspiciously, taking Aphrodite’s hand and following her.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she said, gesturing with her other hand in the air and teleporting herself and her new companion to an Olympus that might not be as cold and lonely as before.