ᛋᚨᛜᚲᛏᚢᚨᚱᛃ ᚷᚱᛟᚡᛖ | Sanctuary Grove
Freya cleaned him first.
Washed the grime from his body. Scrubbed off the dried flakes of blood that clung to his skin.
When she reached his hand, the one the mistletoe had pierced through, did the pain return.
She had been numb during the flight back to her home and now reality was catching up with her. The anguish that had been held at bay came crashing over her like a tidal wave, throwing her around like a rag doll. It mattered not that she was a god or (ex) Queen of the Valkyries; they all grieve in the end. They all suffer.
Freya brought his hand to her face and sobbed.
Her boy. Her baby boy.
He did not deserve this. He did not deserve to die. Not him.
It should have been her.
Freya let go of his hand to hold his face, rubbing her thumb gently across his cheek. He looked so peaceful, as if he were only asleep and at any moment he would open his eyes and be alive again.
Her hands began to tremble at the thought.
"Be alive again," she whispered faintly, a wicked idea forming in her mind.
Freya jumped into action, driven by a mother's determination misguided by delusional grief.
She can bring him back. She can save them both from this misery!
Her son's body is still fresh, stiff yes but he was a god! Vanir and Aesir combined, with a hint of Jötunn blood mixed in there as well. Their divine bodies do not decay the same way mortals do. She can do this. This can work. It will work. She will have her son back.
The goddess flew around the room like a woman possessed, snatching the proper ingredients to fulfill the twisted deed. So focused on the task was she that when she smeared the luminescent concoction on the palms of her hands and brought said hands to her son's broken neck, she jolted when the image of Mimir's decaying head popped into her mind, staying her hands.
She had reanimated the faun out of necessity. If it were under any other circumstances, she would have not. Reanimation is a vile piece of magic, not one she would wish on even her worst enemies. Not even Odin, although that would be because she would have preferred him dead permanently.
Do not be fooled. To reanimate does not equal resurrection.
The reanimated do not feel. They do not eat nor can they even taste or smell. Pain and pleasure is but a memory, never to be felt again. They are still dead and will continue to decay.
If she reanimates Baldur then he will face the same fate. It won't be living. It will be torture, it... It will be exactly what she had done to him.
You ruined my life.
Freya's face twisted in a mixture of horror and shock as she began to understand what she had put her own son through. She croaked a wretched moan and withdrew her hands like they were fire going to burn her son's skin. She stumbled back, digging her fingernails into her skull, the concoction mixing into her hair.
"No... " she breathed, shaking her head like a child. "No, I was only trying to protect you."
No... no. I would never have wanted this! You... you had no right.
"You don't understand! It was the only way," she pleaded, although there was nobody to plead to but herself.
Take it away, Mother. Please... please, please take it away.
Hot tears slid down her cheeks, a deep shame blooming in her chest. She lied. She lied to him and then she stood by and watched the hope die in his eyes.
Kratos may be an animal but Freya was a monster; For what mother could ever do that to their own son.
"I couldn't," she said to the body of her son. "I couldn't let you die. You were my son, my child. I loved you more than anything." She approached her son and gazed down at his face, remembering how he looked when he was a baby sleeping in her arms. She closed her eyes and willed that memory away. It only brought her more pain and misery.
With a heavy sigh, Freya finished washing his body in silence. Then, she wrapped him up and adorned him with flowers from her garden.
Once again she carried her son, holding him close.
"Hemili," she ordered, though the word sounded faint in her ears.
The ground shook as Chaurli the turtle rose from the earth. She waited for him to finish before stepping outside only to be greeted by all the animals she kept safe in her sanctuary. They surrounded her home- deer, elk, rabbits, squirrel and birds and even Chaurli who brought his head low to peer at her with knowing eyes. The boar and her very good friend Hildisvíni came forward and lowered his great head, offering his condolences.
They all felt her pain. They all understood her loss.
It goes against nature for a parent to outlive their child.
Freya breathed in deeply and began walking. They parted like the tide for her, their eyes following her. She headed towards the pyre she had built and gently laid him down to rest. She cupped his cheek and said the two words Baldur had been waiting his entire life to hear:
"I'm sorry."
Flames coiled from her fingers, catching on to the wrappings. Freya slid her fingertips down his cheek and across parts of the pyre, leaving a trail of fire where she touched.
Freya stood back and watched the fire grow and grow, eating away at the wood and her child.
It raged hot and wild, reflecting the cold fury she had felt towards Kratos. But the rage inside of her grew dim. A deep, dark hole grew in her chest, sucking all the joy and light in her life away until she was left completely hollow inside.
And like her son, she felt nothing.
The fire burned throughout the night and come dawn did it begin to dwindle until there was nothing left but smoke and ash.
From her spot on the ground, Freya got up and put her son's ashes into a small pouch. She cradled it in her hands, wondering how something so alive and real and physical could be reduced to nothing in a blink of an eye.
Did they not know that, that is her son? Did the world not care? Did anyone cared?
Numb to everything but her sorrow, she returned home and ordered the turtle to lower itself beneath the earth.
And there she will stay for many moons, hidden away from the world, left to grieve alone.
Freya woke up to the world shaking.
At first she thought Chaurli was rising without telling her but the lack of sunlight streaming through her windows told her that they were still underground.
An earthquake then, was the second thing she thought.
But earthquakes do not make strange animalistic sounds and as the drowsiness of sleep cleared away, she realized the tremors in the earth felt and sounded more like a stampede of hooves. Yet that wasn't what alarmed her the most.
In the very air of her sanctuary, she sensed a powerful presence that felt... familiar. She didn't know whether or not that was a good thing.
Freya stumbled out of bed and swooned over when she suddenly felt faint and very, very dizzy. She managed to regain her balance and then clutched her head, trying to recall the last time she ate.
"H-Hemili," she groaned.
As the turtle rose she went and grabbed her sword. She knew it was pointless- Odin made sure she could not fight or even defend herself but old habits were hard to break and even though she couldn't use it, it brought her some amount of comfort having it near.
Natural light pierced through the windows, blinding Freya and she was forced to shield her eyes. When it no longer hurt to see, Freya marched out of her house to confront the intruder.
She was right when she thought she heard hooves. Boars, bigger than Hildisvíni, ran in a circle around her home, pulling a chariot behind them. They were going so fast and kicking up a lot of dust that it was hard to make out the figure riding in the chariot. The large warrior boars (for there was no mistaking this type of breed) made deep guttural noises that put Chaurli on edge. Freya placed a comforting hand on the turtle's neck, already annoyed with her unwanted guest for making her kind old friend feel uncomfortable.
Freya waited rather impatiently for the boars to come to a slow halt with the chariot stopping right before her. There she saw a man in the chariot, wearing a deep fur coat and armor that appeared ethereal when it caught the sunlight just right. She was surprised of how similar it looked in comparison to the light of Alfheim and wondered if it truly was the magical light floating over his armor.
The man tied the reins and stepped out of the chariot. Even then standing before her, she could not see his face for it was covered underneath a helmet.
Freya spoke first before the man could have a chance to speak.
"I don't know who you are or how you got in here but you are not welcomed in my home," she said with a scowl that would make most men turn tail and run. "Your beasts have greatly disturbed my friend and they trampled my garden so I ask that you leave. Now."
Instead of jumping back in the chariot to flee, the man took a step forward. Freya tensed up immediately and she was surprised when he froze and slowly raised his hands in the universal gesture of friendliness.
"I'm sorry," he said, chuckling nervously. "I meant no harm. Sometimes these 'beasts' have a mind of their own. Isn't that right, Gullinbursti?"
One of the boars, a particularly big one with fine golden fur, snorted and kicked at the ground.
Meanwhile, Freya's scowl vanished when she heard his voice. Her bottom lip began to tremble and for the first time in a long time she felt a rush of emotions swarm inside her. It was so sudden that she felt faint again.
She breathed in and out slowly, regaining her senses. Freya stared at the man with wide, cautious eyes, tears threatening to spill.
It cannot be.
"Take off your helmet," she ordered, ignoring the way her voice wavered.
The man hesitated yet listened and pulled of his helmet. Long auburn hair fell down past his shoulders and when the man looked up at Freya, her eyes locked onto a pair of identical ones that matched her own.
"Hello, Sister," Freyr said with a vulnerableness in his eyes that betrayed the uncertainty and fear he felt inside.
What was he afraid of? What did he have to fear from her? Did he not know how long she has waited for this moment? Or maybe this was not real. Maybe this was just another dream, again.
Freya approached him slowly, never once taking her eyes off him for fear that he would disappear. Her brother did not move when she raised a hand and trailed her fingers down the side of his face. Her eyes widened when she realized he was solid. He was real.
"How?" she breathed, her voice overcome with emotions.
Later, his voice said in her mind. Then, a deep pain filled his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Freya."
It felt like someone cut through her with a heated blade, freeing all the anger and sorrow and anguish that she had locked away.
He knew.
Freya didn't fight it any longer. She held onto him as she cried and raged.
With wet cheeks, Freyr held her even tighter.
There was still much to discuss between them but for now, her brother was here and he understood and that was all she could ask for.