"Valhalla," she said, suddenly a little breathless as it struck her, prompting her to sit up the rest of the way so she could push off one shoulder of the sleeveless down and inspect the top part of her chest and shoulder on that side.

Mirth would be better appreciated later.

Lagertha wasn't ignorant in the ways of the Gods or the stories that had been passed down, or created in their time. She knew Thor and Odin still walked amoung them; knew that Jormungand, son of Loki, encirled the world and kept the seas at bay. She'd prayed and sacrificed to Freyr and Freja; she knew what was going on.

She just couldn't believe it.

"You're a Valkyrie.... and I'm dead." Just... give her a few minutes on that one.