Something did happen to me somewhere that robbed me of confidence and courage and left me with a fear of discovery and change and a positive dread of everything unknown that may occur."

-Joseph Heller

It surprised Freyja to no end just how much could change in a week's time. She and Loki had announced, in their own way, their courtship. Although no Asgardian, besides Loki, was fully knowledgeable on Vanaheim customs, they certainly knew a kiss was not a common occurrence between friends. As a result, Asgard was once more thrown into a frenzy of rumors at the revelation that the goddess of beauty was in love with the god of mischief.

Many said that Loki had managed to cast a spell over her to force her into loving him. These made the two laugh at the very thought, causing a long conversation over whether such an incantation was possible or not. Others said that the relationship was a ruse to help Loki gain the approval of the people once more. Then there were the few that believed the truth, that the two had grown to become more than friends with time.

Rumors and stories aside, it had turned out that the possibility of Freyr being in Niflheim must have been false as it led the Einherjar trekking through the rocky highlands in a ridiculous pattern. Alongside Thor, Freyja had realized they had searched every corner of the Nine Realms, with the exception of Muspelheim and Svartalfheim. As the warriors had truly not wanted to go to either, Thor suggested a brief check through Svartalfheim before ending the search. Freyja was certain that if her brother had been taken to Muspelheim, there was no hope of finding him alive.

She had a candle created in the color of his aura, as was tradition, but did not light it out of hope that he was still alive. That left her with five candles, four of them lit. It was a rather bleak knowledge and she hoped she would not have need of the fifth.

At the end of the week, the threads tying her lips shut were removed and Freyja was allowed to revert back to her Asgardian form. During this time, Loki had disappeared into several forges for hours on end, telling her not to follow. When she asked him why he was making such visits, he had answered that he wanted to forge his own weapon. He was lying, she knew, but she did not pressure him for the truth. She knew that if he wanted to tell her, he would. No doubt, he would tell her in time.

As she walked through the city streets, looking to waste time while Loki was away once more, Freyja stopped to examine a few Vanaheim trinkets a vendor was selling. They were rather mundane objects, little household items that were not often used, but she found comfort in them and bought the euros-saltator, a rounded platinum wind instrument, and small children's toy made of clockwork and metal.

Sitting down on a barrel beside a spice merchant, she remembered how she had given a human one during her travels on Midgard. He had immediately decided to replicate it and, though it turned out different, it had become a common instrument among the people of the region. She believed they called it the ocarina, though she couldn't be certain. Bringing it to her lips, she tested how well it was tuned.

The high shriek that left it caused many to turn and watch. Wincing, Freyja muttered a small enchantment and watched the dents unfold. The next tune came out perfectly, causing her to smile. Lifting it to her lips once more, she began a quick-paced melody that her nursemaid had played when she was young. A few stopped to listen, but few stayed to hear the end.

A young boy with Vanaheim eyes and the soft features of Asgard approached, eyes wide with curiosity. She played another tune, this one as flighty and quick as a hummingbird's. He smiled broadly as she continued to play song after song. She finally finished on a slightly haunting melody that lingered in the air.

"And who might you be," she asked after she ended the song.

"Ulfr, Lady Princess," he answered softly. "You play the same songs as Grandmamma."

She smiled, "That is because they come from the same origin."

"They are not from Asgard?"

"They are from Vanaheim," a familiar voice corrected.

Freyja looked up in surprise, meeting the strange white-gray eyes of Erland. He was dressed in his usual dragon scale armor and dark leather. He smiled at the young boy, who immediately paled and ran off.

"Was it something I said?" he asked with a frown.

"Not at all," she said, stifling a laugh. "Not that this isn't a pleasant surprise, but what brings you here? I thought you never journeyed near Asgard for fear of…Mountain Trills, was it not?"

"Caution, not fear," he corrected. "There is a difference. However, a little bird flew by to tell me that the Mountain Trills have since migrated to Niflheim. Besides, I always arrive when something important happens."

Ignoring the information on the still unknown species of Mountain Trills, she raised an eyebrow, "Nothing of great import has occurred."

"Then it is late. What terrible manners fate possesses," he huffed.

"Are you certain that it is not that you are early?" she asked, standing up.

He gave her a worried gaze, "What utter nonsense. I am always on time. Are you feeling unwell, Freyja?"

"No, simply curious."

He nodded, glancing around at the silver and gold structures that made up the city, "So this is the famed Asgard? It is a bit much…Did the King design it?"

"Odin Borson, the previous king, designed it," she answered as they walked down the street.

"Do you believe he might have been compensating for something?"

Freyja burst out into laughter, amused by such a strange question. He watched her in mild interest, completely oblivious to why she was laughing.

"I'm afraid I don't know," she laughed. "I've honestly never thought of it."

"If Odin was the previous king, would that make your hammer-wielding blonde friend the new king? I believe he was crown prince."

"Yes, Thor is now King of Asgard."

He gazed up at the palace, "Would that be the castle, then? It looks rather like a large set of panpipes."

"Indeed it does," she admitted.

The guards opened the doors for them, gazing warily at Erland as they did so. He nodded his thanks to them, either completely oblivious to their stares or ignoring them.

"I have also heard that you've taken a liking to Thor's younger brother," he noted nonchalantly. "Is this true?"

"I've courted Loki since before I met you," she answered. "It is only recently that the whole of Asgard has become aware of it."

"Where is this prince?" Erland asked excitedly.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "He has been disappearing recently and I can't be sure where he is."

"My wager is that he's attempting to put as much distance between himself and you," a voice interrupted.

Both Freyja and Erland turned to see Sigyn leaning against the wall, blonde hair falling down her back in a casual manner.

"Your opinion was neither necessary nor wanted, Sigyn," Freyja said curtly. "Furthermore, I don't believe you were included in this conversation, now were you?"

"If you wish to act in such a way, I'll simply cut to the point," she said, walking towards them. "Despite what you believe in that pretty little head of yours, Loki is mine. I was his lover before you, he is therefore mine to claim."

"Forgive me if I believe Loki is his own person and cannot be claimed," she said, using amusement to hide her irritation. "And, as I recall, you two have not been lovers in over a millennium."

"Irrelevant," Sigyn said shortly, causing Erland to laugh.

"No, no, don't mind me," he said quickly as Sigyn gazed at him in surprise. "Do carry on. This is highly interesting."

"How so?" Freyja asked. "What could possibly void the fact that your relationship with Loki ended long ago?"

"Support."

"Enlighten me."

Sigyn smiled, though it seemed to carry more venom than general happiness, "Where were you when Loki needed you most? When his wife died during his daughter's birth, you were off traveling through the Realms."

Sigyn stepped closer, coming far too close for Freyja's comfort.

"I suggest you back away from me."

"When he found out his true heritage, you were running away. Cowardly, as all of your people were."

"Stand down," she demanded through grit teeth.

"Perhaps that is why they are now dead, for they were too cowardly to fight back. While you hid from your life, Loki fell from grace. What excuse do you have? You don't deserve him. You are nothing more than a conniving, sickly, half-blooded bitch."

Sigyn let out a gasp as Freyja's fist connected with her jaw, sending her reeling backwards. Erland watched with raised eyebrows, unsure whether to intervene or not. Freyja, however, took hold of Sigyn's arm and pulled her close.

"Now listen to me and heed my words for I will not repeat them," she snarled. "I am not the same as I once was and have no patience to deal with overreaching snake-oil merchants such as yourself. However, I will warn you just once. If you approach Loki, if you so much as attempt something so foolish, I will turn you into a snuffbox and toss you into the sea. Is that understood?"

Sigyn looked up at Freyja with wide eyes, a spark of fear playing across her face. Satisfied that the Asgardian had understood the point, Freyja let go and began to walk off. She could hear Erland long strides as he caught up with her.

"Forgive me," she said quickly. "My temperament has not been the best as of late."

He simply grinned, "I found it rather exciting. But do tell me just what is occurring between you and her."

"Sigyn was Loki's lover at one time, but he quickly ended their relationship. When he and I began to court, she took it upon herself to tear us apart but she has yet to succeed. There has never been a greater nuisance than she."

"Just out of curiosity, why a snuffbox?"

She shrugged, "It was the first thing that came to mind. Would you like to meet someone?"

"I would not mind," he replied. "Who is it you wish to introduce me to?"

"Loki's children," she answered.

He raised an eyebrow, "Yours, as well?"

"Loki and I have never had children, they from his first marriage. However, I consider them to be my own."

A few corridors and many staircases later, Freyja and Erland found themselves at the doors to the garden Loki had given her so long ago. Since her arrival in Asgard, Jormungand had gone to both Helheim and Varinheim to find his siblings. He had returned with both Hel and Fenrir, but Freyja had been unable to see them due to the pending negotiations between Asgard and Jotunheim. However, Loki had informed her that they spent much of their time in the garden.

Opening the doors, she was surprised to see that the plants were still alive and well within the room. She had almost been worried that the garden would have died without someone to tend to it. She wondered if there were any plants left on the ruins of Vanaheim.

"Freyja?"

She turned her head to look at the source of the voice. A tall, willowy young woman with black hair and green eyes stood between the trees, staring in disbelief. Half of her face was a pale gray, stretching taut against her skull.

"Hel."

"I almost didn't believe it when Jormungand told me you were alive," she said, stepping over clumps of flowers and bushes.

"Look at you," Freyja exclaimed, pushing a lock of hair out of Hel's face. "All grown up and I missed everything."

"It's alright. You're back now," Hel replied, embracing her.

"Hel? Who are you speaking with?" a man just barely older than Hel walked into view, running a hand through his dark curls.

He stopped when he saw Freyja, a look of shock on his face. Jormungand walked into view a second later, grinning as he saw the source of his brother's surprise.

"Well, I'll be damned and bound by Gleipnir," he muttered, turning to his brother. "And here I thought you were always full of hot air."

"Father always told you to have a bit more faith," Jormungand laughed. "And have you truly not forgiven Tyr for that?"

"Tyr?"

"Freyja, who is that?"

All four turned their attention to Erland who was leaning against a tree, peeling an apple with a knife while singing in a strange, chattering language. He seemed to be complete oblivious to them as he sliced through the fruit. Freyja wondered idly just how long he had been at the tree.

"That would be Erland," she answered. "He was the one who took me brought me back to the Realms after Thanos abducted me and who helped me fight against the Titan and his army not long ago. Erland?"

He looked up, stopping abruptly in his song. Looking at the three kids, he slipped the knife into his belt and tossed the skinned apple over his shoulder.

"Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Erland, this is Hel, Fenrir and Jormungand," she said, gesturing to each in turn. "They're Loki's children."

He nodded, taking Hel's hand and kissing it, "It is quite the privilege to meet you."

"You're too kind," Hel laughed, eyebrows raised.

He allowed her hand to fall to her side before turning to the boys, "Would it be wrong to assume Loki has the same black hair and green eyes?"

"It would not," Freyja replied.

"How did you guess? What gave it away?" Jormungand asked, sounding truly sincere.

Fenrir glanced down to hide his smirk as Erland grinned broadly, "What do you know? An immortal with a sense of humor. Not common, that."

"Oh?" she asked. "And you've met many immortals?"

"Too many to count," he replied. "So, when is the wedding?"

"Wedding?" she demanded. "Why in the name of the Yggdrasil does everyone expect a wedding?"

"Well," Hel started, "You are the first woman Father has truly loved since Mother. He spurned every other woman after we thought you died."

"He needs to gather his courage and simply ask for your hand already," Jormungand snapped. "By Odin's eye, you two were apart for over a millennium and yet you act as if no time has passed at all."

"If you ignore Father's loss of identity, Midgard-domination spell, and Freyja's preoccupation with Thanos," Fenrir pointed out.

"Fenrir!" Freyja laughed, amused at his matter-of-fact tone.

"It is the truth," he said with a shrug.

"Father was not in his right mind when he attempted to destroy Jotunheim," Hel snapped. "And Thanos held power over him when he wanted to subjugate Midgard. You know that as well as I."

"I'm surprised Asgard hasn't cast both of you out of its borders," Jormungand snorted.

"Asgard would cast out its own Prince and Freyja simply because she loves him?" Erland asked in confusion.

"Father isn't exactly in Asgard's sympathies at the moment," Hel explained.

"Now hold on!" Freyja snapped. "Thor would never allow-"

"Freyja!"

She looked up to see Thor running through the door, a wild look in his eyes. She turned completely to face him, wondering what had caused such a reaction in him. They stared at each other for a second, waiting for him to find the words.

"They've found him."

For the first instant after those words left his lips, she didn't understand what he was saying. She had heard every word, yet they were incomprehensible. Suddenly it fell upon her as if she had been dragged to the depths of the ocean. Eyes widening, she ran past Thor and began to run to where she knew they would have him.

Not quite hearing the voices of Thor, Erland, Hel, and Jormungand calling out to her, she raced through the corridors. Reality seemed to fall away as she passed over the smooth metal floors. Servants and guards alike leapt out of the way as she ran to the Infirmary, staring as five others chased after her.

Bursting through the doors, she saw several healers cluttered around a single beds. Pushing through the Vanir and Asgardians out of desperation, she let out a choked sob as she saw Freyr lying pale and unconscious on the bed.

He was in his true form, black hair plastered to his head with dried blood and dirt. He was far too thin, even for a Vanir, and there were many open wounds across his dark skin. His left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle and, every so often, he would twitch as if haunted by memories he couldn't escape.

Falling to her knees beside his bed, she took his hand. She poured much of her energy into him, whispering prayers, promises, and apologies in her own language as she did so. Muttering that it was her fault, she rested her head on his shoulder. The tension and fear she had hidden now made itself known as she cried out her happiness of his survival and guilt at his fate.

A hand fell on her shoulder, pulling her from her reverie. She looked up at the Vanir, wishing she knew his name.

"Lady Princess, there is something you should know," he began. "When the Einherjar located Freyr, they found another with him, as woman."

"A woman?"

"Allow me to show you," he said softly, pulling her up.

He led her to the bed surrounded by thick curtains, "We are unsure of why she was with him, but we could not allow her to die."

He drew back the curtain, revealing the unmistakable figure of a female Frost Giant. She, too, was emaciated and bloodied. The more she looked at the woman, the more Freyja thought her skin was too dark, her features too angular, for a Jotun. Out of curiosity, she traced her fingers over the woman's Jotun markings as if they would tell her the answers she sought.

Freyja inhaled sharply as the woman's hand clamped around her wrist, her eyes flashing open. She wanted to recoil away from the cool touch, but felt frozen to her spot when she met the Jotun's gaze.

"By the Wise One," the healer breathed.

The woman's eyes were ruby red, as all Frost Giants' eyes were, but their pupils were surrounded with the too familiar golden ring.

"Who are you, Jotun?" Freyja breathed, unable to look away.

With a voice as cold and sharp as ice, she replied, "I am Kenna of Jotunheim, daughter of Njord and Skadi."