Freya The Goddess: A Tale of Óðr's Eternal Wanderer
↪ Twisted Stories
Warning to the mortals: This tale isn’t for the faint-hearted. Freya’s life was a whirlwind of magic, love, chaos, and divine drama. If you were expecting a peaceful goddess, you’re in the wrong story. And don’t say I didn’t warn you if you end up feeling a little judgmental.
Let’s talk about Freya. Yes, that Freya—the goddess who had everyone wrapped around her finger because she was stunningly beautiful and just as chaotic. She embodied love, war, magic, and a whole lot of contradictions. The legends paint a picture of a goddess who seemingly had it all, but her life was far from idyllic. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t all rainbows and sweet kisses.
Freya was a paradox in motion. Known for her breathtaking beauty, seductive allure, and formidable magical skills, she was the one you’d want on your side in both love and war. Need a love potion? Freya was your go-to. But don’t mistake her for some gentle goddess of love—Freya was a warrior, fierce and complex, defying any simplistic categorization.
Now, let’s dive into her love for powerful artifacts, starting with the Brisingamen necklace. This wasn’t just any necklace; it was crafted by dwarves and symbolized immense power. How did she get it? Freya, never one to play by the rules, used her charm and made a bold bargain with the dwarves—something mortals should never even dream of attempting. But hey, she was a goddess, and bending the rules was part of her game.
Freya’s life wasn’t just about magic and objects, though. Her relationship with Odin, the chief of the gods, was equally fiery and complex. Odin, as mighty as he was, couldn’t resist Freya’s allure. Their interactions were intense, with Freya often taking charge, unafraid to pursue what she desired. She was a goddess who played her cards with unmatched skill, always aiming for a royal flush.
Freya’s influence extended even into the afterlife. She claimed half of the fallen warriors for her hall, Fólkvangr, while the other half went to Odin’s Valhalla. Sharing the dead? Just another power move in the intricate dance of divine politics. Classic Freya—assertive and unapologetic.
So, there you have it: Freya, the goddess of love and war, a tangle of beauty, power, and divine drama. Her story is a rollercoaster of magic, battles, and morally gray choices. Even the gods weren’t immune to chaos, and Freya was its queen.
➡ The Takeaway
Freya: The ultimate goddess of love, if love means wielding magic, waging battles, and striking deals with dwarves. She was a blend of beauty and chaos, constantly redefining what it meant to be divine. So, when you find yourself in a mess, just ask: What would Freya do? Probably enchant some dwarves, snag a powerful artifact, and create a little chaos. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?
Alice Chimes In...
Sitting next to Rumplestiltskin in the studio, Alice raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t had your fair share of deals," she quipped, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "I mean, you’re the little imp of deals and bargains, aren’t you?"
"Freya had her own drama, sure," Alice continued, her tone dripping with amusement. "But you know what? I kind of like her. The woman knows what she wants, and she doesn't apologize for it. And that? That’s something I can get behind."
Sure, she had a few… unorthodox methods. But hey, who wouldn’t want a shiny necklace at any cost?” Alice scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “But let’s be real—I would’ve just swiped it. No need to make deals that should never be made with dwarves and all that stuff. Still, not many can juggle love, war, and an afterlife negotiation like she did. That’s some level of skill... or desperation. Take your pick."
She leaned back, tapping her fingers on the table. "Honestly, though, I’d never bother with the whole ‘bold bargaining’ thing, like bargaining my stuff for some necklace. Too messy and violating. I prefer a good ol' fashioned heist. Much cleaner and way less personal. If you get what I mean." She flashed a grin, clearly proud of her less dramatic approach.
"But seriously, Freya wasn’t just a one-hit-wonder with that whole necklace deal," Alice continued, leaning in and lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "She had her fingers in all kinds of pies. Her relationship with Óðr? It wasn’t just some love story, darling. It was a full-blown power struggle. You think he was the only one making the rules around here? Please. Freya was in the game, and she knew how to play. She was the goddess of love, but she could turn it on and off faster than you could blink."
Alice raised an eyebrow, as if the thought amused her. "Óðr, the often-absent husband, probably had his little control issues? But Freya? She wasn’t about to be some pawn in his world. No, no. She had her own agenda, and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted."
She paused for a moment, as if savoring the drama.
"And let’s not forget about Skadi. Talk about a rivalry. You get one angry giantess with a grudge against the gods, and suddenly, Freya’s pulled into a game of revenge. They didn’t exactly swap recipes for baked goods, if you catch my drift. Skadi wanted a piece of Odin after her dad got killed, and poor Freya got stuck in the middle, trying to navigate a deal with a woman who was just itching to make her pay. Freya wasn’t a fan of being anyone’s bargaining chip, and that just made it all the juicier."
She leaned back, glancing around the room for effect.
"You know what I love, though? Freya wasn’t just the goddess of love and beauty. She owned war too. She didn’t just sit pretty while other gods fought their battles. No, no, no—she had her own war-ready crew. Her Valkyries? You bet she had the power to send them to the front lines, choosing who lived and who died. And half of the slain warriors didn’t go to Odin’s halls; they went straight to her own realm, Fólkvangr. No one ever told her where her loyalties should lie. She made sure of that."
She grinned again, clearly enjoying herself.
"Oh, and that magical feathered cloak of hers? Iconic. Not only did she rock the look, but she could transform into a bird and fly wherever she needed to go. Super handy if you want to show up, stir up some chaos, and disappear before anyone even notices. That's real power. Plus, who doesn't love a good cloak of transformation, huh? The girl was always two steps ahead, always flying in and out of situations with that cloak like she was on some secret mission. Classic Freya—she didn't need anyone's permission to do her thing."
She chuckled, leaning in a little closer.
"Then there’s the whole thing with the Vanir gods. Freya wasn’t just a love goddess with a killer wardrobe. She was at the heart of the Aesir-Vanir peace deal. Her and her brother, Freyr, were traded as hostages to seal that peace. But Freya didn’t just roll over for that—oh no. She played her part in mending the rift between the gods, but she did it her way. Always on her own terms."
She flashed a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the layered complexity of Freya’s myth.
"Honestly, when you look at it, Freya was basically the goddess of 'I do what I want.' Love, war, wisdom—she had it all, and she didn’t care who she pissed off in the process. She was in charge of her destiny, and if someone got in her way? Well, they just had to deal with it."
She leaned back again, looking thoughtful for a second.
"So yeah, while everyone’s obsessing over the shiny necklace and the dwarves, I like to think Freya was more than just a pretty face with a couple of magic tricks. The woman knew how to play the game, and she always walked away with what she wanted."
She gave a knowing smile and shook her head, clearly satisfied with the turn of events. "Definitely a goddess to be reckoned with."
Loki
Loki strolled in, his cloak swirling behind him as he adjusted his gloves, his usual mischievous grin in place. His timing, of course, was impeccable—he’d caught the tail end of Alice’s rambling, and he could already feel the headache building. Mortals were probably already lost in the madness of the storytelling, no doubt. And Rumplestiltskin? Well, let’s just say Loki wasn't in the mood for that cryptic nonsense today. No, no, he would take control now.
He walked right into the middle of the conversation, snapping his fingers to get everyone's attention. The room went silent, and Alice shot him a playful scowl as he took the seat across from her.
"Alright, enough of this," Loki said with a smirk. "I’m gonna fix this mess, so the mortals don’t end up needing an aspirin. We’re talking about Freya, people. Freya. Not that nonsense about dwarves or feathers. Pay attention, because I’m about to tell you her story, the way it should be told." He gave a pointed glance at Alice. "Let’s clear things up, shall we?"
Sitting back in his chair, he leaned into his mic, his eyes glinting with amusement as he took a deep breath.
"Freya was no ordinary goddess," Loki began, his tone smooth and sharp. "She was one of the Vanir, a mighty goddess of beauty, love, fertility, and, well—war. Yes, you heard that right—war. The beauty and bloodshed kind of war, my friends. But that’s just the surface. You want to understand her? Fine. Let’s rewind."
He paused, collecting his thoughts as the room hung on his every word.
"Freya was the daughter of Njord, the god of the sea and winds, and his wife, Skadi—the giantess with the frosty temperament. Now, Njord, he’s the one who controlled the seas and the winds, but Skadi? She was more the type to make things freeze over if you rubbed her the wrong way. So, Freya’s bloodline? It’s strong. Very strong. Power runs deep in her veins."
Loki’s grin grew wider.
"Now, let’s talk about her marriage. Freya didn’t just settle for any ol’ god. Oh no. She was married to Óðr, a god. Odr was her husband and the father of her two daughters Hnoss and Gersemi.
He wasn’t exactly the reliable type, always running off on mysterious journeys, leaving Freya to fend for herself most of the time. Some say she spent an awful lot of time searching for him, calling out for him with her sorrowful wails. You might think that’s sad... but I think it’s just classic Óðr—always vanishing when things got interesting."
Loki chuckled, a dark gleam in his eye.
"But let’s not get bogged down in his absence. It’s Freya we’re focused on. You see, Freya wasn’t just some goddess hanging around waiting for her husband. She was a goddess of action. And when the gods needed something done, when they needed a serious deal brokered, guess who they turned to? Not Óðr. Not Thor. No, they turned to Freya."
He tapped the side of his head, like he was revealing a hidden treasure.
"She was central to the Aesir-Vanir peace treaty. That’s right, she was traded as part of a hostage exchange to seal the deal between the two divine clans. Don’t think for a second that she was some passive participant in that—Freya played her part. Her mind? Sharp as a dagger. And she wasn’t just any ol' prize to be handed over; she was a symbol of power and cunning, a goddess who knew how to play the game. It’s how she ended up getting her precious necklace, the Brisingamen, which—if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know—is the necklace that pretty much cemented her place as one of the most desirable goddesses in the pantheon."
He smiled, as if he couldn’t resist a little jab.
"Now, her relationship with Óðr—well, it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale either. He, being the all-knowing, ever-grim god, was always looking for an edge. And Freya? She didn’t need Óðr’s approval to do what she wanted. She had her own ways. She had her own realm, Fólkvangr, where she took half of the slain warriors—while Odin took the other half. And guess what? They both claimed the best fighters. No competition. That’s just how she rolled."
Loki’s tone shifted slightly, a hint of respect in his voice.
"And while she could be every bit as fierce as the next warrior goddess, Freya had a softer side. She was the one you’d turn to for matters of love and beauty, sure. But she was also a goddess who ruled over life and death. Her power over fertility wasn’t just about babies—it was about the growth and prosperity of the land, the vitality of the seasons. Without Freya, the cycle of life would’ve been much less... well, life-y."
He leaned in closer, eyes locking with his audience.
"So, let’s break this down, mortals, in a way even you can understand. Freya wasn’t some helpless princess in a tower. She was a goddess who demanded respect and got it. She played her hand in the biggest deals in the realms, she had her own path to follow, and when the chips were down? Freya wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, making sure that she and her people thrived—no matter who she had to outsmart or challenge."
He gave a sly wink.
"Freya became a wanderer in Norse mythology due to her constant search for her husband, Óðr, who was frequently absent. Óðr's mysterious disappearances left Freya heartbroken, and she would travel far and wide, weeping tears of gold as she sought to find him. Her relentless journey symbolizes love, loss, and the pursuit of the unattainable, making her a poignant figure of longing and devotion in the myths. This wandering aspect of her story highlights her enduring love and the sorrow she bore as she traversed the realms in search of her beloved."
"Not only that but some legends say that his mysterious nature and connection to travel and seeking knowledge align him with some of Odin's characteristics, leading to speculation that her hubby might have been another aspect or a lesser-known counterpart of Odin himself."
Suddenly, Loki stood, throwing his cloak back dramatically, like he was about to exit stage left.
"So, there you go. The truth. Freya, the goddess of war, love, and everything in between. If you still don’t get it... well, maybe it’s time for me to take over full time."
He snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving the room in stunned silence for a beat—Loki’s dramatic exit leaving a trail of tension in the air.
Alice sat frozen for a moment, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to decide if she was impressed or just plain annoyed. Her fingers slowly wrapped around her teacup, the porcelain delicate against her hands as she brought it to her lips, sipping it with exaggerated calm. But the look in her eyes? Deadly. You’d think she was sharpening daggers in her mind for Loki’s last little jab about ‘taking over full time.’
She didn’t say anything for a moment, her lips curling into a sly smile. But everyone could tell—it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes, the one that meant ‘I’ll get you back for this, trickster.’
"Well, that was... something," Alice muttered, her voice smooth, but there was a definite edge to it now. "And here I was thinking he was just going to be more drama, more chaos. But no—he’s gone full... godly storyteller mode on us. How original."
She took another sip of her tea, eyeing the empty space where Loki had just vanished. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the cup, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. She was keeping it cool... for now.
Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, was practically seething. The room might’ve been silent, but his face spoke volumes. His usually meticulously groomed appearance was now stiff, his hands clenched on the table in front of him. His lips were pulled back in a thin line, eyes dark with frustration as he stared at the space Loki had vacated.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, edged with anger, but he tried to keep his usual charm intact, though it was cracking.
"Did he... really just walk in here and take over?" Rumplestiltskin said, his words sharp. "Unbelievable." His eyes flickered towards Alice, as if silently asking if she was going to let that happen without any sort of retaliation.
He let out a long breath, trying to control his temper, but his nostrils flared slightly. It wasn’t that he doesn't like Loki—okay, maybe he doesn't like Loki—but it was the sheer audacity of it all. The nerve!
"Of course, of course, he would be the one to come in here and make everyone forget what we were talking about. Just steal the spotlight, because who else could?"
His hands spread wide, gesturing to the now empty air where Loki had once been. "And there’s no... respect, no appreciation for the delicate balance of storytelling!" He scoffed dramatically, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms like he was the wounded party. "He doesn’t understand, does he? It’s all about the fine details. The subtlety!"
Alice, smirking over her tea, glanced at Rumplestiltskin. She didn’t need to say anything, Rumplestiltskin was just yammering away about subtely as if he was ever subtle about anything, her eyes twinkled as she leaned in, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
"Careful, Rumple," she teased, her tone smooth as silk. "I think you might be next on his 'taking over' list. He seems to have a knack for... stealing other people’s thunder."
Rumplestiltskin growled under his breath, rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion.
"Well, if he’s going to steal something, maybe he could steal a bit of my patience along with it." He glanced at Alice again, muttering, "The nerve of him. The absolute nerve. I mean, really—taking credit for all the good storytelling? I was practically doing all the work!"
As the tension hung thick in the ImmortalGazetteStudio, it was clear: Loki’s impact had struck a nerve with Alice and Rumplestiltskin as well. They might’ve been used to his antics, but that didn’t mean they were happy about it and Rumplestiltskin definitely doesn’t handle competition well.
The rest of the staff in the studio has been hanging around, trying to wrap up their work for the day. Some are quietly working in the background, while others are half-heartedly pretending to be focused, but everyone knew this show had gone completely off the rails. Loki’s grand entrance and Rumplestiltskin’s escalating frustration had thrown the usual rhythm of the studio into complete disarray.
Alexander, the eternally grumpy camera operator, was halfway through packing his things when Loki had first barged in.
Now He glanced at his watch—he still had a few minutes before he could make his escape, but he was regretting not sneaking out earlier.
He muttered under his breath, "Too much drama in this place. Can't believe they're giving Loki a soapbox. He’s got to be the worst storyteller in all the worlds and realms. What’s next, a puppet show?" He gave a resigned shake of his head, "I’m gone after this. Screw it." Alough he didn't really mean it and knew he would be back again tomorrow for more drama and chaos.
Penny, the assistant editor, was busily typing on her laptop when the drama went down. She barely looked up, but she could feel the tension in the room, and the subtle shift in energy. Loki, of course, was never one to walk in quietly, but his theatrics were a bit much for even her taste.
She casually adjusted her glasses, hoping no one would notice her quick attempt to exit the room unnoticed. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen.
She cleared her throat, glancing awkwardly at Alice and Rumplestiltskin, who were still locked in their verbal sparring match. “So... uh, anyone want to grab a drink after work?” Penny asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.
She was trying to be subtle about her desire to leave, but it was pretty obvious she was just trying to escape the drama. She quickly added, "I mean, seriously, I just need to escape this lunacy, you know? Maybe I'll catch a few hours of sleep... away from all of this." A nervous laugh followed her words, though it barely hid the true horror she felt about the next few minutes of her workday secretly hoping Rumple would just pop himself out ot the stuio like he usually does when he is angry or annoyed.
Then there was David, the immortal intern. He was always the first to stick around when things got weird, trying to absorb all the chaos like it was some kind of professional development. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave—he lived for this stuff. But even he had to admit the situation was a bit much. He leaned over to one of the other staff members, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Did you see how Rumple was about to burst a vein?” David whispered, eyes wide with excitement, his voice practically shaking with glee. "This is the most interesting thing to happen in weeks!"
His colleague, an older, more tired-looking vampire named Lillian, simply rolled her eyes, muttering something about ‘immortal drama.’ She was already putting her coat on, preparing to leave. She had seen this kind of spectacle a thousand times before and knew it wasn’t worth sticking around for the aftermath.
Sarah, who worked in PR, sighed dramatically as she packed up her papers. She had been trying to make sense of the interview transcripts, but now? Now she was just done. She tucked her notebook into her bag, ready to get out before anyone noticed her frustration. There were only so many gods, goddesses, and tricksters she could tolerate before her patience snapped. She whispered to no one in particular, “Can’t wait to tell my therapist about this one…”
As the tension built in the room, it was clear that the staff had had enough of Loki’s drama and Rumplestiltskin’s meltdown. One by one, they all began to slink out of the Studio, escaping to the safety of their respective corners, muttering under their breath about how they'd survived another wild broadcast.
By the time the dust settled, the room was emptier, with only Alice and Rumplestiltskin left to stew in their tangled emotions.
Soon, the Immortal Gazette studio was eerily quiet, except for the rustling of papers and the occasional clink of Alice’s teacup.
As for Rumplestiltskin, he was still muttering under his breath, trying to shake off the feeling of being upstaged. His final words before he stormed out were directed at the empty room as if hoping the walls would listen.
“I’m so over this.”
And just like that, the show had devolved into the usual mayhem, leaving everyone involved wondering how they’d get through the next broadcast without Loki showing up to stir things up again when it wasn’t his shift. This seems to be happening a lot more lately, people just popping in like there are no walls in this studio and the others well they just barge in whenever they have something to say.
And Alice? Well, she still here, calmly shuffling her papers and sipping her tea, completely unfazed by the chaos that had just unfolded. The daggers in her eyes had softened to a mere glint of amusement as she basked in the newfound quiet of the studio. With a contented sigh, she leaned back in her chair, savoring the peace while it lasted.
She turned on some music and opened her notebook, flipping through pages of notes and clippings. Her mind was already turning to her next story, diving into research with the same sharp focus she always had. The chaos was a mere background hum now, easily tuned out as she immersed herself in the world of myth and legend once again. This was her sanctuary, and no amount of immortal bickering could shake her from it.
With a satisfied smirk, she muttered to herself, “Now, where was I? Ah, yes… the tale of the lost goddess. This one’s going to be a real showstopper.” She took another sip of her tea, the quiet enveloping her like an old friend.
Alice was already moving on, finding solace in her work while everyone else fled the scene.
But if you could take a closer look at what Alice was really writing on the paper, it wasn’t quite what she claimed. Instead of notes on the lost goddess, she was doodling—sketching out all the ways she could get even with Loki for daring to threaten her job. Each drawing was more elaborate and mischievous than the last, a testament to her cunning mind.
Never mess with Alice, or the Mad Mad Queen.
