ORIGINS OF MONSTROSITY
"Enlighten us, what traumas did you suffer at the hands of our aunt? Do you believe your suffering was greater than ours? She took you from Esther and Mikael, the two most incompetent and selfish parents of their time, and in doing so, in my opinion, she did you a great kindness."
–Niklaus Mikaelson
●981 AD - Kingdom of Norway●
The morning light had just begun to creep through the cracks in the wall, slowly illuminating the hovel Dahlia and I shared. Seated on my cot, still in my nightwear and with a heavy reindeer pelt draped about my shoulders, I watched my aunt fill her pouches with herbs and potions. She had lit the fire a while ago, and the flames were strong enough now to heat the porridge I had made last night, sweetened with blueberries and honey. The scent quickly spread through our little lair and though I had not felt hungry up until that point, my mouth now watered. Dahlia tied her pouches to her belt and moved to scoop a small portion of our morning meal into two wooden bowls. She handed me one, and took the other for herself, eating in a hurry.
"I will be gone until nightfall," she said, breaking the silence that had claimed us since the previous night. "And when I return I expect you here to greet me."
Though curious about where she was going, I knew better than to ask. Experience told me questions would not be well received. Absently stirring my spoon through the thick porridge, I met my aunt's dark eyes over the fire, trying to decipher the message they sent. She wanted confirmation of my obedience, and though I wished to give her one to avoid confrontation (that I always lost), my tongue seemed to run away from my mind, hastily spewing a displeased string of words I had intended to keep to myself.
"Why can I not come with you? Please, Aunt Dahlia. I want to see what lies beyond our forest. I want to see the world."
She went on these trips every few months and always returned in a foul mood, smelling of smoke and with the lower half of her dress stained in blood. Because she never showed any signs of damage, I assumed the blood did not belong to her. I had conjured up many theories over the years of what her purpose of these outings was. Perhaps she was protecting our home by slaying those who came too close for her liking? Perhaps she was laying waste to entire Viking villages, like she had done in the past, just to sate her own need for vengeance. Perhaps she was sacrificing some poor lost souls to the underworld in the hopes her powers would grow. Or perhaps, and this was my favoured theory, she returned to the village where my mother and father resided, to renegotiate the terms of her and Esther's agreement. Maybe Esther was bargaining for me, to bring me home to Finn and Elijah and potential new siblings, and most important of all, to Mikael. Ever since I'd been taken, my every dream had been of him charging through the wastelands on his horse, his sword raised high, coming to save me from the wicked witch who would keep me away from my family. Every day I got up hoping he would stand on our doorstep. But he never came. Nor did anyone else. And eventually, Dahlia's words started to ring true. "Your mother and father don't want you." But even so, the little girl in me still could not surrender all hope. No matter how futile.
"You know I will not allow that to happen," Dahlia said, regarding me over the fire with narrowed eyes, "You must stay here. Where you are safe. Protected."
She rose to her feet and placed her empty bowl on our makeshift table, helping herself to a sip of water from a nearby cup.
"No man may set foot upon my property without meeting a vicious fate. No one will be able to take you from me, to use you for your powers. You know all that awaits you in the realm of the brutes is pain and suffering."
This was the answer she would give me every time I made a request to step off our land. But what had once been a heartfelt plea that made my insides wrench in fear and guilt, now seemed an automatic response to a child that was too thick to remember previous explanations.
"I suffer now!" I hissed, eyes ablaze with anger. "You keep me here, trapped and alone, with no one to look upon but you! If this is safety, I do not want it. I deserve to live, as you do, not merely exist."
Dahlia struck me without warning, the palm of her hand connecting with my cheek so harshly it turned my head and made my ears ring. My bowl fell from my lap, its contents splattered upon the earthen floor. Shocked by the sudden pain, my hand rose to soothe my burning skin, my mouth falling open as I looked up at the woman who had struck me without hesitation.
"Foolish, ungrateful child," she growled in a low, dark voice that somehow made the room seem smaller and void of light. "I feed you, clothe you, keep you warm in the long winters and this is the thanks I get? You should be grateful I do not kill you here and now. It would save me the agony of hearing you whine." She leaned down, her face mere inches from mine, an intimidating tactic I had seen her use many times just before she brought someone's life to an end. I could feel her warm breath on my skin, could feel my own revert from her lips and back to me. Dahlia could put fear in the bravest of men, but not me. Not now. Not with this threat.
"You would never," I whispered, my tear-filled gaze burning with anger and conviction. "You depend on my power. Without it, you are just another old hag banished to the dark corner of this world." I half expected her to strike me again, and for a moment it seemed she too was contemplating this idea. But then her lips curled in an unpleasant smile, and she took my face in both her hands.
"We shall see how long that lasts. Mark my words, Freya, if your wretched siblings don't give me a child once they've matured, I will make certain you do. And then, I might not have need for you anymore. But until that day comes – You. Stay. Here."
She pushed me away with such force my neck strained in protest, the back of my head crashing into the wall behind me. Without another glance at me, the elder witch swept out the door, leaving behind only the remnants of her threats and her nail marks upon my temples. I remained where I was a while, emotions shifting from self-pity to anger and back again as quickly as rolling waves.
I hated her, I really did. But what was worse, I needed her too. Ever since she had brought me here, my magic had been grown rapidly, unleashing itself in terrifying ways that brought harm to both me and others more times than one. During my most recent fit of anger, I had conjured up a storm with no intention to do so and the birds above had fallen dead to my feet, like a macabre rain of crows and starlings. Though Dahlia was the reason behind most of my anger, she was also the only one who seemed capable of soothing me. Those moments when she took me in her arms and whispered words of comfort, singing to my quivering form was the only times I felt anything but hatred for the woman. It was as though her entire personality shifted, from villain to loving mother. And that was what I craved the most. Love.
Wiping my eyes, I eventually rose to my feet and began clearing my breakfast away, gathering the used bowls and utensils to take them down to the river later for a rinse. I changed my dress and braided my hair to keep it out of my eyes, put out the fire as the sun rose on the horizon, filling the summer day with warmth. I stepped outside to take a look, assessing the potential for this day. It would be a fine time to wash clothes and to fix the crack in the roof, or perhaps to slaughter a goat and prepare its meat for conservation. The fish would surely bite on a day as fine as this, and the water would be warm enough for me to bathe as well. But none of the options I had before me seemed as tempting as they normally would have. Perhaps because I knew with certainty, I would have to do it all alone. Companion, beyond Dahlia, was what I wished for.
For a witch, wishes can often turn to reality, and mine was fulfilled that day. While exploring the forests around our cottage, I happened upon two children. They were roughly my age, a boy and a girl by the names of Arvid and Dagmar. Twins.
Such a find was unheard of for me. The nearest village was miles away, and its inhabitants rarely dared to stray into Dahlia's forests for it was rumoured to be the home of great evil. I had not seen another child in years. Not a live child, anyway. And here were two!
I was hesitant at first, Dahlia's warnings hanging over me like a shadow, but when the twins invited me to come play with them by the river, the temptation was too great. I could not resist.
Arvid and Dagmar were ten years of age, they told me, and they travelled the country with their mother who had the gift of foresight. She could interpret dreams and signs from the gods, and she could reveal how your life was destined to be. The rich were always more than eager to pay for such services, and so the twins' mother never ran out of work.
I did not tell them of my life with Dahlia and spoke very little, but Arvid and Dagmar seemed not to mind. They were happy and free of suspicion and distrust. They only wanted to play and were happy they had found a new friend.
Friend. The word tasted weird on my tongue, but I liked it.
We spent the day by the river, Dagmar and I making flower-wreaths that we put in our hair, while Arvid picked berries from the nearby bushes. He brought us several fistfuls and we gorged ourselves on the sweet, red fruits until we could stomach no more. We bathed in the river and lay out on the rocks to dry off, basking in the warm sunlight like cats.
When Arvid suggested we cross the river to explore the forest on the opposite side for potential fruit trees, I did not hesitate in following. Only when I had swam across and climbed onto the riverbank did I realize my mistake.
It started as a pain in the pit of my stomach and spread to my extremities. My chest tightened, my lungs constricting, hindering me from breathing properly. My eyes went wide with fear as I witnessed the skin on my hand wither and turn a rotten black, threatening to fall away altogether to expose bone.
It was a boundary spell. One of Dahlia's, it had to be. She had always warned me not to stray this far from the cottage, but I had never expected she would take such drastic measures to ensure I obeyed.
I threw myself back into the river, clumsily making my way back from where we had come, gasping for air and unable to hear the twins call my name from the other side. Once back on land, my breathing eased and the pain vanished, my hand restored to its former self as though this had been nothing more than a hallucination.
I cast a glance back at the confused children who were still calling for me, scrambled to my feet and ran. I couldn't tell them what had happened. I had no way to explain. They would think me crazy, or I would frighten them away. It was a disappointing ending to the perfect day, but a part of me felt victorious.
I had happy memories now, moments of pure innocent joy that Dahlia would never be able to take from me. Friends.
When I arrived back at the cottage, darkness had fallen and Dahlia was waiting. Cold fury marred her face and I contemplated what lies to tell her in order to save myself from her wrath. But not a single dishonest word could part with my lips. One glance from my aunt was enough to make me spill all my secrets.
To my surprise, she did not explode with anger, nor did she seem intent to punish me for my disobedience. Instead, she simply ushered me inside and told me to get dinner started. She remained outside to chop firewood.
I did not question her decision, too relieved not to feel the sting of her hand upon my face, and simply did as I was told. I skinned a rabbit for our dinner and chopped various roots and herbs to be added to a stew. Then I cleaned the rabbit pelt and hung it up to dry for later use. By the time the meat and vegetables simmered pleasantly over the fire, a few hours had passed.
Dahlia had yet to come inside, and I did not mind this in the least, but when I heard her call my name I did not delay in peering out through the doorway.
"Yes?"
It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and finally landed upon Dahlia as she slammed the axe down into a log, leaving it there for the next time wood needed to be chopped. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand before gesturing towards something in the dark.
"Your little friends are here."
I blinked rapidly, certain I had misheard her at first.
"My friends?"
I searched the space she indicated, taking a few hesitant steps away from the cottage for further examination. I saw no one. Surely it wasn't the twins? Dahlia may not have punished me for making their acquaintance, but she would never allow anyone to step foot onto her property without permission.
I looked back at her over my shoulder, confused, and she jabbed her finger impatiently in the same direction. I took another few steps, pausing abruptly when I realized the ground before me had vanished. There was a hole in the forest floor.
No.
Not a hole.
A grave.
I screamed as my gaze settled on the two pale figures that had been swallowed by the earth. There they were, brother and sister, naked bodies gleaming in the moonlight, their bellies torn open in crimson gashes that expelled their intestines, eyes wide open and milky-white, staring accusingly up at me from the abyss. Dead.
Heartache and disbelief took hold of me, sobs wracking my tiny body until my head spun with panic and threatened to take away my ability to stand.
Dahlia came up behind me, one hand clutching my shoulder. Through tear-filled eyes, I only now noticed she was spattered with blood. She looked down upon the twins serenely, but her voice was sombre.
"You lead them to our home. Threatened to expose us to your father's vile people. They would have been at our doorstep before dawn, plundering our food supplies, burning our house, raping you until you bled out and died."
Her fingers tightened on my shoulder, digging in painfully.
"Look at them. This could all have been avoided had you not been such a disobedient, selfish child."
Then she pushed me. I felt my feet lose contact with solid ground and I fell forward into the darkness. My body collided with the corpses, and once again I screamed, making futile attempts at scrambling away from the dead twins. But it was no use. There was nowhere else to go.
My fingers clawed at the earthen walls, trying to find purchase, a root, a rock, anything to help me climb out of this grave, but to no avail.
Above me, Dahlia stood watching, her eyes dark with cruel amusement.
"Play with your friends, Freya."
Something shifted beneath me, and soon, cold, dead hands reached for me through the darkness, pulling me down beneath them, filling my nostrils with the putrid stench of death, bloodied corpses slithering atop me and keeping me prisoner between them until I thought I would pass out from fear. Their nails clawed at my skin and they delivered punishing bites to my bare arms whenever I dared move too much for their liking.
"Dahlia, please! Make it stop! Don't leave me here! Help me! PLEASE!"
Screaming and crying, my pleas fell on deaf ears. Dahlia said nothing more. She just watched. And when I had exhausted myself, now a true prisoner of the twin corpses, she left. She did not return until the sun was high upon the sky the following day.