9A/N: Sorry that it's taken me a few YEARS to write a second chapter, so... yeah, that's my bad. I'll just get to writing now.
Harry Potter and all associated characters are not mine, but Lysstyrke and the Valkyrie are. ;)
A Green-Eyed Child
The sound of thundering footfalls precedes a tiny tempest with ruby red hair and piercing emerald eyes glinting in the sun as the most precious jewels the dwarves could find. In one hand she carries a short dagger held back against her arm and in the other a graven training shield she is currently using to bash obstacles out of her way as she is being chased through the halls of the keep by her trainer and caretaker Frigga.
Such is the life of one Lysstyrke Lilydottir, better known to the realm of Midgard as Lysstyrke Potter, The-Girl-Who-Lived. She has lived here in Asgard since she was a baby, raised by Frigga and her many sisters, daughters, and nieces, not to mention the gods themselves. The Aesir and Vanir have taken a rather strong liking to the little tyke, and even Loki Laufeyson bears a soft spot for her. It is from the lone and unknowing Jotunn that her dagger came from, an enspelled blade that will be sharp if she is in danger but without an edge otherwise which makes it the perfect weapon to learn bladecraft with. Hogunn is the one who crafted her shield, a light buckler made of the bark from a tree that only grows in Vanaheim that is harder than mortal steel.
So strong are the enchantments that she throws herself over a banister in a stairwell and curled into the curve of the buckler to take the impact for when she lands. However her preparation is pointless as she is snatched out of the air by her belt and left hanging, the ever-changing eyes of Frigga staring into her own. With a sigh, she slides her short blade into the sheath built into the back of the shield and prepares for what is to come, expecting a harsh consequence for her 'recklessness'. Such has it always been for her, and such does she expect now and always.
Her upbringing is normal for one of her kind, but she is also kept aware of her expected life on Midgard and what she would have had to suffer through were she mortal as her birth father was. She is grateful that she is raised with love and affection, proper meals, and a bed to sleep in when she knows that the Norn have seen she would have had none of that had she remained with the aunt who cast aside her own heritage for a marriage to a man she thought loved her. At six years of age, Lysstyrke knows what she is told, and what she can sense. In her mind's eye, she can see the resentment in the heart of Prytta 'Petunia' Dursley, the constant seething hate for the whale that she bound herself to and even the disgust that she casts upon her own son in the deepest confines of her own mind. Had the little girl been allowed to stay and grow up there, ignorant of what she is and the worlds that she could have known, all of that poison would have been focused on her and Prytta never would have admitted any of it.
She would be more than content to never need to experience any of it, but the Norn have seen something, a vision of a visit that must come to pass though they do not tell even Frigga why. So it is that today once she is cleaned up from her training that she is to take the Bifrost with Frigga and two more of her 'aunties' to go visit her last true relative living on Midgard, the boy having been born with no töfra or hugur and so not being counted as blood of the Valkyrie or the gods. It is on this day that they must go, this day and no other, and it is apparently very important that it be done a certain way once the men are out of the house.
It is with a rather large amount of surprise that Lysstyrke is set down gently and quickly checked over before Frigga smiles at her and kisses her forehead. "Go get clean little one, thou hast done well this day. Prepare your manners and remember which clothes you may wear on Midgard, we shall leave soon." The little girl grins with a pure light in her eyes and takes off running, leaving the elder standing in the hallway watching her flee as two more women come to stand by her.
"My lady, I know that the Norn have foretold this day and this meet, but is it truly necessary? Have they told you why it is to happen?"
"Yrsa, you know that they do not say more than what needs be, but they have hinted that perhaps it is to be crucial in returning a sister to the fold once more."
The younger woman, possessed of hair black as a raven's plume and eyes of fresh earth, nods and holds her silence as the blonde woman whom has looked after their young charge turns to the last of their number and commands, "Ulfhild, make sure that the little one actually gets clean and not just wet, Yrsa and I shall prepare the way for us this day." The tall platinum-haired female nods her head and turns to go to the chambers of their child, a sunbeam momentarily piercing the shadows of her hooded cloak and illuminating the scars that twist the left cheek of her face just beneath the eye as she quickly strides down the corridor.
Petunia Dursley, once named Prytta Evans, waves at her fat little son as he follows his rassgat father to the car so that he can go to school. Oh how she wishes that she could be proud of him like she pretends to be, but all she sees is a little blonde boy who wants to be his father so badly that he eats like him, speaks like him, and even bullies others like him. Her son is a dreadful little beast, and her husband whom she once loved so dearly is worse.
'To think that I gave up my sister and our people for this...wretched excuse for a life. More, how gravely I hurt her when she married that töframaður drengr James in the middle of their war, a war that the Valkyrie were meant to stay out of. Lily was still so very set on acting as a shieldmaiden, and when she would not hear of staying out of mortal conflicts, I cursed her so horribly. Had I not given up my own hugur it would have been much worse, and yet it was bad enough that we never reconciled before that madman but her down.'
As her thoughts turn once more to the loss of her sister and the love that they had shared when they were young, she hears a sound that has not entered her consciousness in nearly a decade. In her very soul, she feels the reverberating note of the warhorn and can see behind her eyes the swirling colors of the rainbow bridge, and for several moments she believes it all in her head, a remnant of her regret. It isn't until the glass begins to shake in the windows that she looks out to the rear garden and can truly see the multicolored beam of light that accompanies the opening of the Bifrost and understands that today, she is to be visited.
Suddenly rather self-conscious, Petunia straightens her mortal clothing. She is very aware of how she has diminished, how frail she has become under the thumb of the foolish and boorish man that she married like a hálfviti, unable to train and remain strong. Her self-esteem and will falling further when she sees whom it is that leads her visit, the statuesque golden-haired goddess draped in furs and cloth of a quality not possible here on Midgard. At Frigga's side stand two more whom she remembers well from their youth, though it takes a moment for the combination of ash-platinum hair and a hood to remind her of the identity of the woman whom once was her closest friend. Then they step apart and peeking out from behind her mentor and mother-figure is a phantom from a different age.
"Lily?" The impossibility of it being her younger sister does not register as she stumbles from the front of the house through the garden door to tumble to her knees once in the grass. From a closer vantage point, the small changes reach her notice.
'No, not Lily. Hair much too wild, and those eyes are not her amber but emeralds that the Trickster himself would covet. Could this be-?'
"Are-are you Lysstyrke? Are you my sister's daughter?" Hope lights her eyes and quivers her voice as she desperately clings to a hope that perhaps she is not the last of her family afterall, that this little girl is her niece. Hope that the note she found five years ago three days after All Hallows was left behind unneeded by the Valkyrie as a message that some part of her sister still lived. Hope that Frigga had seen the little girl and taken her after that fool of a man left her on a cold doorstep in November in Surrey. Even now filled with that hope, Petunia can be honest with herself that had she not disappeared completely, had she truly been left to her, she would have only seen her sister and taken out her regrets and her bitterness on a small child that would never deserve that kind of vondur.
For a short time, the little girl says nothing, reacts not at all, then slowly steps forward from behind the comforting presence of Frigga and nods to answer the question before performing a warrior's kneel, left knee hitting the dirt, right hand clasped in a fist over her heart, head tilted down in respect. Faced with the legacy of her sister, Petunia does the only thing she is physically capable of in that moment and surges forward to wrap the little girl in her arms and sob into her hair. Tiny hands hesitantly rise to her back and awkwardly pat her, the little girl obviously unsure of what to do and hoping that this will be enough to get a woman she has never met to let go of her. It is in fact enough to get Petunia to pull herself together and let go of the niece that she thought dead and gone, stolen in the night, or some other horrible fate. With a great effort, she stands once again, brushes herself off, and turns to face the woman who raised herself and her sister.
"M'lady Frigga, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
The voice that answers her is one she did not know that she missed, full of strength she has forgotten and love that she has been without for too long, rich in a way that Petunia's no longer is. "Prytta, we are here because we were told that we had come in a dream. The Norn spoke and foretold that this meeting must happen to bring about an outcome that would bring happiness and strength to the Valkyrie once again. We came to introduce to you young Lysstyrke though we did not know what reception we would receive. I am glad that it is this one, that you do not harbor bitterness for your sister any longer."
In that moment, Petunia could not bear the thought of holding any ill against her departed sister, Lily being the light that lit her childhood and the woman that she had always hoped to be but never quite could be. "No móðir, I cannot hate her any longer. In truth, I never could. I just wished her to be safe, to not be a part of the war that took her life, yet she could do nothing less than fight at the side of her töframaður drengr and protect the weak. I miss her." She could not look up, could not bear to see disappointment in the eyes of her most beloved aunt whom she and her sister had once thought of as their mother, growing up without one as they did until the Evans family took them in and Lily went to that Hogwarts castle. "I envy her purpose, and the happiness she had with James that I have not had since the wedding to Vernon. That man only gave me attention to get his son, and now he uses me as a decoration and a maid. Would that I could end him and come home, but...I have no magic any longer. I was a fool to give it up for him."
Petunia can feel the piercing gaze of Frigga's shifting eyes boring into her, seeming to stare into her very soul even without meeting her eyes. It is a feeling that she has missed and yet has also been content not to experience for quite some time, memories of home and better days surfacing quickly and filling her mind and her heart past bursting. Seconds pass into minutes, and as the stare remains affixed to her she begins to doubt herself and her worth once more until that soft steel voice rises again, "Are you sure that is what you wish, elsku? Would you come back to Asgard if you were given the chance, to heal your relations with your sisters and have a chance to help your niece? Would you abandon this world, your ties and your son, if it meant making amends?"
In her heart Petunia wished with all her being to say yes, but though she thinks him a despicable clone of his father, the thought of giving up on her Dudley fills her heart with dread. A beat of her heart, then another, then she answers with sadness filling her words, "No. I wish it that much is true, but I could never cast aside my child no matter how low his sire is. I cannot just abandon him the way I thought Lysstyrke was that cold November night." Believing that to be the end of it, she turns to head inside, ready to invite them in for what time she will be afforded, only to be stopped by an iron grip on her wrist.
"That is a good answer, sterkt hjarta. For that answer alone, we will welcome you home with open arms. Though he is to be no more than mortal, we shall also make sure to give your son the best education the Realms can provide. Be ye ready, for when the Bifrost opens this night, it will be the last you will see of Midgard for several years at least. Once you are returned to us in Asgard, it will take time for your töfra to return. When it does, then may you come back here to visit this world, but not before then and never again to live on a permanent basis." Though they had thought to be here longer, something tells Frigga and Petunia both in that moment that their time is up for now, and a moment later once the visitors are stood in a group once again, the Bifrost opens and whisks them away in a flash of light and a blast of sound.
A/N 2: Okay, I wanted to write more, but somewhere in the middle of this second part I had to go make food and then I got sucked into Fairy Tail. I lost my rhythm for this chapter, and I seem to have better luck writing in one flow rather than bit by bit. For the non-English words it's mostly Icelandic and fairly simple to translate. I hope you enjoyed it! I'll try to write more with both this and Beware the Frozen Heart, which should be easier now with the document lifetime of a year instead of ninety days now.