was immortal.
As they walked past, Freyja looked at the floor and avoided making eye-contact. She heard the hoots and whistles as she passed each Viking. She cringed.
They soon made it to Valaskjalf. As the door creaked open, they saw Odin, slumped on his throne, a horn of mead held limply in his hand. His eyes shot up as they entered.
“What do you want now?” he snapped.
Thor stood at his full height, which was considerably taller than the old man.
“I want to see Frigg.”
Odin stuck his thumb out to the left, towards a wooden door. Thor nodded curtly and led Freyja through. When they reached the other side and had safely shut the door behind them, Freyja decided to ask something that had been annoying her for a while.
“Why do you call Odin “Father” but you don't call Frigg “Mother”?” she asked.
Thor turned to her with a small smile on his face.
“Because she's not my mother.”
“Oh. But she's married to Odin?”
“Yes.”
“And she's not your mother?”
“No. If anything, she's my half-sister.”
“Who is, then?”
“A giantess. I can't remember her name, Odin doesn't talk about that period much.”
He led her down a corridor, she struggled to keep up with him.
“So, technically, you're a demigod?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Freyja considered this.
“This must be the only religion where it's easier to trace the fathers than the mothers.”
“Nah. You've clearly never been to Olympus.”
They went through another door, and entered Frigg's chamber. It was a well-lit room, with a large four-poster bed at it's heart, surrounded by various cabinets and dressing-tables. Rich tapestries and other soft furnishings flowed into each other gracefully in a cascade of orange and gold.
“Who is it?” she asked, coming round from behind a screen decorated with a hunting scene.
“Me, and Freyja.” Thor said.
Frigg walked over to them, adjusting her coif and smoothing her dress, which was a shimmering, green affair to match the décor.
“What can I do for you, Sweetheart?” she asked.
Thor suddenly looked very awkward at the use of “sweetheart” instead of “the god of thunder”; especially after the conversation he had just had.
“Mjollnir has been sulking a lot lately, and he took it out on Freyja. She's hurt her knee.”
Frigg adjusted her coif thoughtfully, before going to a cupboard and getting a bottle of ointment.
“Here. It's sage, it'll bring the bruise right out. I used to use it on Loki when the boys were little.”
She winked at Freyja and handed the bottle to Thor.
“I'll be right back, Odin wants to see me. He's convinced it's Ragnarok; I think it's senility myself.”
She rolled her eyes and tapped the side of her head.
Freyja sat on the bed and rolled her dress up to reveal her blue-black knee. It looked worse than it felt. Although on second thoughts, it looked about as bad as it felt; Freyja had just developed a very high tolerance for pain.
Thor opened the bottle with a little 'plop', and the slightly sour smell of sage poured out. It made Freyja think of roast dinner. And Christmas. And Earth.
“Do you want to put it on?” Thor asked.
Gingerly, Freyja touched her knee. She felt like she had just plugged it in to 5000 volts. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop tears of pain leaking out.
“You.” she articulated through clenched teeth.
Thor knelt down and rubbed the ointment on.
No pain, no volts. How could he even...?
“It doesn't hurt.” Freyja breathed. “Why?”
“It's quite simple. Pain is nerve signals sent to the brain, which in turn are electricity. I'm just taking the electricity. Saving it for a rainy day, if you like.” he smiled
He held out one hand and made lightening dance between his fingers with small thunderclaps.
Freyja smiled back.
She tried to concentrate on the lack of pain she was feeling. It wasn't bad. It was actually quite soothing. She felt the stress and panic from the hammer flight melt away. She watched Thor's hands, and began to feel very drowsy.
He looked up at her, and clicked his fingers in front of her face. She snapped out of it and blushed at him.
Even after all this time, she still couldn't quite believe how lucky she was, and couldn't help but blush every time their eyes met. He got up and as he let go of her leg, a spike of pain shot through it, causing her to let slip a squeal of pain.
He instantly grabbed her leg again.
“I'm so sorry!” he garbled.
The pain melted away again, and Freyja sighed in relief. Thor looked up at her sheepishly.
“I guess the ointment hasn't entirely worked yet.” he mumbled.
Freyja smiled at him again. He stared intently at her knee for a moment.
“That should do it.” he whispered.
He slid his hand off her knee and kissed her leg. This sent shivers down Freyja's spine that didn't feel all that bad, but caused her to physically shake.
Thor shot a small smirk up at her. He raised himself up to her level, and leaned in to kiss her.
She made no effort to fight it, but they both snapped out of it as the door creaked open again.
It was Frigg.
Thor froze in mid-action, inches away from Freyja's face.
“Oy!” she teased, “No hanky-panky in here!”
Thor stepped away from Freyja, sheepishly. Freyja decided to stay where she was, but to quietly turn bright red.
Frigg waltzed into the room and tidied some objects that were lying around on the dressing-table. She folded a dress draped over the chair, and put it in a drawer. She turned around to face the embarrassed couple. She cocked her head to one side.
“Sweetheart, your father wants to see you.”
Thor cringed slightly at the use of “sweetheart” again, but then sighed.
“It's about Ragnarok, isn't it?” he asked.
Frigg nodded slowly, an exasperated look on her face.
Thor left the bedroom with a quick glance at Freyja, which caused her cheeks to turn an even brighter shade of red.
Frigg turned to Freyja.
“He's really serious about it.” Frigg sighed. “I mean, we've had false alarms before, but this time, he's really convinced.”
Freyja nodded slowly.
“What are we supposed to do if it really is Ragnarok?” Freyja asked.
Frigg shrugged then smiled absently.
“We're the lucky ones, if you can say that. Us two remain here, in Asgard, alive and well, while the men go and bash each other's brains out and go to Gimle. And Balder comes back.” Frigg sighed the way one does when one cares about someone, who is then snatched away, but soon busied herself by beginning to fiddle with the quilt on the bed.
“All the other men?”
“Yes.”
“Even-?”
Frigg cut her off.
“Yes, even Thor. Sorry.”
She looked at her sympathetically.
“Oh,” she paused. “How?”
Frigg sighed, and began to recite something that had obviously been drummed into her over a long time:
“Thor fells the Migard-seprent with his Mjollnir, but he retreats only nine paces when he himself falls dead, suffocated by the serpent's venom.”
Freyja looked down at her knee and began to really hope it wasn't Ragnarok
“Frigg? What else happens at Ragnarok?” she asked, quietly.
“All bonds and fetters that bound the forces of heaven and Earth together are severed, and the powers of good and evil are brought together in an internecine feud. Loki advances with the Fenrir-wolf and the Midgard-serpent, his own children, with all the hosts of the giants, and with Surt, the giant who masters fire, who flings f
ire and flames over the world. Odin advances with all the asas and all the blessed einherjes, the spirits of men brought to Valhalla. They meet, contend, and fall. The wolf swallows Odin, but Vidar, the silent, sets his foot upon the monster's lower jaw, he seizes the other with his hand, and thus rends him until he dies. Freyr encounters Surt, and terrible blows are given ere Freyr falls. Heimdall and Loki fight and kill each other, and so do Tyr and the dog Garm, which Hel has since replaced, from the Gnipa cave at the entrance to Hel. Then smoke wreathes up around the ash Ygdrasil, the high flames play against the heavens, the graves of the gods, of the giants and men are swallowed up by the sea, and the end has come. This is Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods.” she recited, pitch-perfectly.
“When you put it that way, it almost sounds fun.” Freyja said, bitterly.
She swung her legs around a little, testing out her knee.
“How do you know all that?” Freyja asked.
“I know the fate of all men. Sometimes that is more a burden than a gift.” she sighed.
“How is your leg feeling?” Frigg added, turning to a mirror to touch up her make-up.
Despite the heavy coating of lipstick and eye-shadow, dark circles hung under her eyes, crow's feet crept along her temples and grey flecks danced under the cover of her blond hair. Her age was really beginning to show. Although she didn't look altogether too bad for 2500 years.
“Shouldn't you know?”
They both let out a giggle.
Freyja picked the bottle off the bed, and handed it back.
“Just leave it there, honey. I'll get it later.”
Freyja obeyed and Frigg whizzed out of the room again.