It had been the first spring after Baldur's death, the first after Fimbulvetr and the first after Ragnarök . It felt a first for a lot of things, strangely. Atreus had gone on his travels, mainly residing with Angrboða in the Ironwoods , leaving his father behind grumpy. Freya chuckled at that, at least he still had - no she wasn't going to continue that line of thought.
She had decided to stay with Kratos and Mimir, she first thought she chose it as a way to punish herself, who stays with the murderer of your son, but she found the company was good and they worked well together.
She had found that she had forgiven Kratos. Which surprised her in a way, yes she had come to love Atreus as her own, but to forgive his father for killing her son, she never thought she could. She had been known for holding a grudge and she was so, so angry.
At the Nornir for their cruel fate, at Odin for giving her a son and taking it all away, her agency, her power. At Baldur for his needless death for being angry at her, for her being his mother who only wanted to protect her son.
At Mimir and everyone who had done their part to hurt her, to ruin her life, she found that somehow Kratos was not in that list, maybe was never added either. He had protected her from her own son after all, after the promise that was not kept.
She wanted peace, peace for herself and peace for her people. She wanted the freedom that had been taken from her for all those years, that she had fought so hard to get back. Most of all she wanted change, a softer Freya, a Freya that was not driven by grief, freed from the abuse that she at times was still experiencing from her dead husband.
Kratos had started to bring her flowers, even during Fimbulvetr he and Atreus would, but now when he went on his quests he brought her new ones. Telling her he had never seen these before. She told him it was because of spring, the change of seasons and smiled. Even on their quests together he would point them out, ask about them wanting to learn. A thoughtful man, something she hadn't encountered in a long time. Maybe only Freyr ever did when they were children.
She could see the sun rising earlier and earlier, staying in the sky longer in the evening. Birds came to live, other animals did too. A lone cat came to her when she and Kratos were on a quest to kill some raiders that had been tormenting the town in Midgard. She had bent down, Kratos and Mimir did not notice. Hej kærr she had said as she petted the little orange cat on the head. Fully engulfed in the fact that it came towards her, chose her, as it plopped down to show its stomach. What are you doing here little one. The cat batted at her hand playfully. I haven't seen you here before.
She had heard her name in the distance, followed by the nickname, woman . As she looked up she saw Kratos looking at her. Looking at her with fondness? No, she did not know. She stood up as the little cat, rubbed around her legs. A careful smile on her face. Maybe she would be okay after all. Maybe people cared for her like she cared for the animals when she was shunned away by her husband. Thrown away after not being useful anymore, when she had become a threat to him and his power.
Heavy footsteps came to her. A tall brooding Kratos looked down at the cat that circled her bare feet. Witch, there was the other nickname he had for her, the one she hadn't heard in a long time. It made her snicker, the man certainly had a way with words. He had urged her to follow, to kill the raiders Hildisvíni had said that tormented the nearby town. She nodded in agreement, readied her bow and arrow. The cat had left her as they continued their quest, to continue its own adventure.
They had come home late that time, Atreus told them he would visit, there were just too many raiders to kill in one morning. Kratos had been grumpy on their way back, all grunts and insults towards Mimir who had been given intel on the raiders. Her thoughts had strayed again, back to Baldur, how she wished she could just hold him once. Just once. Like she had done with Atreus when he ran to her, he had gotten so much bigger in such a short time. Please never grow up, please don't be like Baldur. She had held him tight, a kiss on his head as he returned her hug with the same intensity. She was so proud of him. He had told stories of the Ironwood of the giants of Fenrir and Angrboða. In his usual animated way, she had seen Kratos visibly relax, forgetting his anger towards Mimir. His son was home, his son was safe. She smiled at the sight of the two. She told them she was going to check on the wolves, to give Kratos some alone time with Atreus without needing to ask.
She had sat outside, the snow was now gone and the earth was slowly warming up. The stars in the sky shined brighter than they had during Fimbulvetr. Maybe their pain lessened over time too, maybe she would be able to shine brighter like them. She sat down in the wood shed, her arms around her legs, leaning her head on her knees as she let out a sigh. Her emotions had been high lately, a lone tear ran down her cheek. She couldn't really mourn during Fimbulvetr and Ragnarök; she had always been moving, always busy, either in her vengeance to kill Kratos or her vengeance to kill her ex-husband. Now everything had come to somewhat of a halt, giving her time to think, time to properly grieve. She had heard a little meow nearby, her trained ear pinpointing the location. As she walked towards the sound she had seen a cat, accompanied with five little kittens. Drinking from their mother, who meowed softly at the Goddess. It was the same orange cat who had meowed at her who now looked her in the eyes, slow blinking while her kittens nursed. Hej kærr. She knelt down again, petting the cat's head as the cat licked her hand. A small chuckle. Beautiful babies you have.
It was Sigrún first who noticed the tension had no longer been in Freya's shoulders, that she seemed a little more at ease. A little more relaxed. She joked that she could now beat her Queen, Freya had laughed and told her to dream big . They were watching Thrúd and Gunnr fight. Freya was proud at Thrúd that, after all that had happened, she stepped into her fathers footsteps with grace. Head held high.
Atreus had cheered her on, until a nasty hit from Gunnr. He flinched instinctively as the sword hit his friend. She will be alright Freya had comforted him and Angrboða patted him on the shoulder. She had come to visit with Fenrir, Freya liked the girl. She had lightened the young boy up, made sure he would stay on the right path, so she hoped. She had shown Freya some of her paintings even teaching her to paint a little when the boys went on a hunt. Girl time Angrboða had called it. Freya had found it a nice way to get to know her, to let her own guard down.
Kratos had asked her to cut his beard, it was getting long, filled with food and he did not trust Atreus with a knife near his face. She offered to braid it for him but immediately got a panicked no as a response, and a loud laugh from Atreus. She had carefully cut his beard just a bit shorter around his mouth, when Angrboða came in with flowers in her hand telling Kratos he could decorate, he couldn't say no to the young girl. So Freya braided them, weaving the flowers into his beard with immense precision and concentrating, her tongue sticking out just a little. When Angrboða approved she held up the mirror, Atreus had said he would have killed me if I did that.
It had made her filled with the sense of security, a sense of belonging she had not, maybe even ever, felt before. With Freyr it had always been about war and their duty to lead, with Odin, well she did not want to dwell on it. She had put the knife away with a smile on her lips. The seasons had changed, from dark to light and maybe her life did too, change from winter to spring.
