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Entry tags:
FIC: They Remember (Mythology)
TITLE: They Remember
FANDOM: Norse mythology
PAIRING: Frejya/Freyr
RATING: M
WORDS: 374
DISCLAIMER: Norse mythology is public domain.
WARNINGS: incest/conceptcest
EXTRACT: Once, long ago, they had been one. One god, one goddess, one entity that was fertilitysexviolence. Then, somehow, in the hazy pool of mythological conception, one split into two, and two into three.
They Remember
Once, long ago, they had been one. One god, one goddess, one entity that was fertilitysexviolence. Then, somehow, in the hazy pool of mythological conception, one split into two, and two into three. Two goddesses and one god: homey Frigga, promiscuous Freyja and violent Freyr.
The All-Mother and the Twins of Lust. All tall, slender, blond. All beautiful, all vain.
Some things are the same; others are different.
Frigga, once youthful and man-crazy Frigga, is older now. Queen of Heaven, Odin’s help-mate and mother of a dead son; the housewife’s goddess has no time anymore for the joys of her other thirds; she sighs and turns her head and forgets that once she and they had been one.
Freyja doesn’t forget. Never given to introspection, she nonetheless remembers being kinder, once; kinder, and gentler, and the delight of the gods.
She wants to forget; blood helps. Blood and sex and she leads the Valkyries to the battlefield, all of them screaming and shrieking with blood lust. The brave warriors cower as the sadistic handmaidens choose the beautiful ones, the strong ones, the brave ones from among the dead…she laps at their blood and forgets.
Freyja-Frigga is jealous, envious; Freyr is aloof. Birth and death, fertility and violence; the beautiful god makes no excuses, needs no reasons. He is what he is, that is enough.
For a time.
Cold Freyr, stern Freyr; he remembers being whole, and forgets what made him stop.
When Freyja invites him to her hall, he goes. For she is him and he is her; two parts of a whole that lacks the third. They press against each other on her large bed with legs around hips, arms around back, lips on lips; they move against each other with a rhythm made of lustlovelonging. They cry out their name at their union, and for a bodiless moment, they are nearly one, nearly freyjafreyr once more.
Frigga, sitting her crowded hall, knows what her other parts do. But she is the Earthmother now, sitting by the All-father’s side and dreaming of golden belts to fill the void; she sighs and turns her head and forgets that once she and they had been one.
But they remember. And that is enough.
For now.
FANDOM: Norse mythology
PAIRING: Frejya/Freyr
RATING: M
WORDS: 374
DISCLAIMER: Norse mythology is public domain.
WARNINGS: incest/conceptcest
EXTRACT: Once, long ago, they had been one. One god, one goddess, one entity that was fertilitysexviolence. Then, somehow, in the hazy pool of mythological conception, one split into two, and two into three.
Once, long ago, they had been one. One god, one goddess, one entity that was fertilitysexviolence. Then, somehow, in the hazy pool of mythological conception, one split into two, and two into three. Two goddesses and one god: homey Frigga, promiscuous Freyja and violent Freyr.
The All-Mother and the Twins of Lust. All tall, slender, blond. All beautiful, all vain.
Some things are the same; others are different.
Frigga, once youthful and man-crazy Frigga, is older now. Queen of Heaven, Odin’s help-mate and mother of a dead son; the housewife’s goddess has no time anymore for the joys of her other thirds; she sighs and turns her head and forgets that once she and they had been one.
Freyja doesn’t forget. Never given to introspection, she nonetheless remembers being kinder, once; kinder, and gentler, and the delight of the gods.
She wants to forget; blood helps. Blood and sex and she leads the Valkyries to the battlefield, all of them screaming and shrieking with blood lust. The brave warriors cower as the sadistic handmaidens choose the beautiful ones, the strong ones, the brave ones from among the dead…she laps at their blood and forgets.
Freyja-Frigga is jealous, envious; Freyr is aloof. Birth and death, fertility and violence; the beautiful god makes no excuses, needs no reasons. He is what he is, that is enough.
For a time.
Cold Freyr, stern Freyr; he remembers being whole, and forgets what made him stop.
When Freyja invites him to her hall, he goes. For she is him and he is her; two parts of a whole that lacks the third. They press against each other on her large bed with legs around hips, arms around back, lips on lips; they move against each other with a rhythm made of lustlovelonging. They cry out their name at their union, and for a bodiless moment, they are nearly one, nearly freyjafreyr once more.
Frigga, sitting her crowded hall, knows what her other parts do. But she is the Earthmother now, sitting by the All-father’s side and dreaming of golden belts to fill the void; she sighs and turns her head and forgets that once she and they had been one.
But they remember. And that is enough.
For now.