A/N: Hello, lovelies. So since the cult that Toki's parents follow doesn't have a name, I gave it one. And I even wrote some of its doctrines. I would also like to add that this story has a birth scene. It really isn't bad at all, but I am simply warning the squeamish. Giving birth without an epidural is pretty brutal. Breast feeding is brutal too. Okay, I should probably shut up now. Anyway, enjoy!

Anja Falstad did not imagine that her life would take the road that it did. The rest of her existence seemed so certain once she had been accepted to the University of Bergen. She would make it through medical school, graduate, and become a pediatrician. Just as she had always dreamed she would.

Then, of course, her parents discovered the Faith of the Silent. Anja's parents had bounced from religion to religion and back again for her whole life. She had always been dragged into whatever spiritual movement they joined or taken to those fancy New Age courses they attended. But her parents' acceptance of the Faith didn't simply drag her down. It swallowed her.

Her parents had forbidden her to go to college. The Faith did not believe a woman should be educated. A worldly woman was a sinful woman. And they ensured that she would not be able to escape this new life. They brought her with them to every ceremony the Faith held and kept round-the-clock watch on her. No matter how much Anja screamed and cried and begged, she remained trapped.

Yet she still had hope. Anja went to sleep at night holding on to that sliver of optimism that she would be free someday. That day never came. And when her parents brought the news that she would be married off to a high-ranking reverend of the Faith, Aslaug Wartooth, her hopes were shattered.

Thus, it was this day that Anja stood at the entrance of the darkened chapel. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun under her veil and wimple. Instead of a white wedding dress, a dark gray cloak was draped all around her. Anja looked to the altar to see the man who would be her husband.

She didn't like him. Not one bit. Although he was apparently in his early thirties, Reverend Wartooth appeared to be far older. The lines on his face were deep and pronounced, but the man looked as though he had never smiled in life. His eyes were the worst. They sank deep into his skull and stared coldly back at her from the altar. Anja shrank back in terror, but was stopped by her mother placing a hand on her shoulder.

The slow, somber music began to hum throughout the tiny chapel and the members of the congregation rose. It was her cue. Anja blinked back her tears, took a breath, and began to walk.

…

The pain ripped through her lower half, but Anja didn't scream. The last time she did, her husband stopped trying to deliver the baby and gave her a cold, hard slap on the cheek. The left side of her face still stung from Aslaug's blow, but she tried her best to ignore it. For now, Anja continued to push as hard as she could. The Faith had denounced hospitals as being evil and corrupt. It denounced epidurals as being even more so. So it was on the kitchen table that Anja found herself having to give birth to their baby. With one final push, the baby came out, a sharp SNIP was heard, and her husband quickly wrapped him up. The cries that rang out from that little being were the most joyous sounds that Anja had heard for almost a year. Aslaug handed the tiny, squirming bundle over to her before going back to clean her out. Anja buttoned down her frock and positioned him so that he could drink from her breast.

When Aslaug finished, he left the kitchen to discard the remaining contents of her womb outside. Anja took this opportunity to look down at her little son. He was beautiful. The boy's blue eyes were already peering keenly up at her from a chubby, rosy face. Although he was still covered in jam, Anja could see that the hair that was plastered to his head was a light brown. Just like hers.

Anja felt an overwhelming sense of love for her son. The new feeling ached in her chest. She wanted to dance. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sing to the high heavens. Most of all, she wanted to spirit her baby away with her. Far from this abandoned village, far from the Faith of the Silent, and far from Aslaug. But she couldn't. Her husband would make sure that none of those things happened.

And so in that moment, Anja did what little she could do. She held her little son's gaze and smiled down at him.

"Hello, Toki," she whispered softly.

…

Toki wasn't the smartest boy in the world. But he was wonderful. He was imaginative and obedient and sweet. He provided a light in Anja's otherwise dark life. Sadly, Anja was unable to show him how much his light meant to her.

Aslaug was the one who put Toki to work…and punished him if he made a mistake. Or if he was in a terrible mood. When Anja protested against the treatment of their son, she was answered with a swift blow to the face. Aslaug then ripped down the back of her dress to flog her, for it was sinful for a woman to speak out against her husband.

Anja dared not protest against her husband again, afraid that her son would have to suffer his wrath alone.

Whenever her husband was out instructing Toki what to do and whenever she was free of chores, Anja often found herself looking in the mirror. She would remove her veil and wimple to truly examine her form. Every time, Anja was horrified at what she had become. While she had certainly been no Serveta Skwigelf, she had been quite pretty once upon a time. But gone was the lovely young girl. In the mirror was an older, hardened woman. The years of child-rearing, labor, and severe religious practices had drawn lines on her once-smooth skin. Her hair had become dull and stringy, with flecks of gray in it. Her eyes were becoming more sunken in and turning into the cold, dark blue of her husband's.

Anja also no longer saw a confident, goal-oriented girl with dreams. The woman who replaced her was weak. She was a woman who could not even stand up to her husband, who had let a cult devour her heart and soul, and who couldn't love her son the way she wanted to.

One day, while bitterly reflecting on these thoughts, Toki came up to her to tell her something. She couldn't even remember what it was; she only remembered the moment that followed. Before Toki could even finish his sentence, she slapped him soundly on the cheek. Tears pooled in Toki's eyes as he brushed the spot where she had left her mark. Upon realizing what she had done, Anja swiftly walked away, silently shaming at herself for doing such a thing. She was turning into her husband.

That same night was one of those rare nights that Aslaug actually fell asleep in bed-as opposed to staying awake and keeping an eye on his wife all night. Anja tip-toed quietly to her son's room and lay down on the edge of his bed. Toki slumbered deeply, no doubt dreaming of kittens and candy and music. Anja gently brushed a lock of hair from his eyes and smiled sadly down at him.

"I am so sorry," she told him. She lay down next to him and wrapped her arm over his small body. And just before she drifted off to sleep, Anja Wartooth wept for the very first time in years.

…

Toki had finally done it. He accomplished what Anja never could: running away. Fourteen year-old Toki braved a brutal snowstorm and the many other dangers the Norwegian winter had to offer in order to finally leave this hell. It started because of that guitar he found abandoned in the snow. Aslaug's prohibition of the guitar seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. By the next morning, he was gone; guitar, five cans of pickled herring, and all.

Anja was relieved that he had done it. She was happy that he was motivated enough to make a life of his own. Anja was thankful that her son was strong where she was weak. Her only regret was that she hadn't asked him to take her with him.

Run, Toki, she thought to herself as she witnessed her husband's rage at their son's departure. Run as fast as you can and never come back.

…

The abandoned village outside of Lillehammer didn't get very much information about the outside world, but everyone on Earth knew who Dethklok were. How could anyone not? On special occasions, Aslaug would take Anja grocery shopping with him. And every time she passed by the magazines, Toki's face always managed to make an appearance with his band mates on the glossy covers. Aslaug always shook his head at the magazines in shame, but Anja always smiled inwardly. Her son was safe now. He was happy, wealthy, and well-liked as far as she knew.

Anja was glad Toki seemed to find his place in the world. Aslaug liked to believe that her place was beside him, but she knew in her heart she would probably always be stuck in limbo. Unable to move on, yet never truly belonging in that one spot.

But her Toki's success gave her courage. She prayed that he would in some way remember that night that she held him close and left before dawn. She wanted to believe that somehow, Toki would realize how much she truly loved him.

Toki kindled in her the hope that, one day, she would be able to find her lost voice.