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She was cold.
The air was humid from Surtur's sealed off power. Steam rose underneath from the cracks in the ground. She heard the bubbling of magma from the volcanoes in the distance. Sweat dripped down her skin, yet Freyja felt as if she had been cast into the deepest depths of Jotunheim and left to freeze. She shivered and pulled her knees close to her chest, trying to ignore the goosebumps prickling on her arms and legs.
Her husband leaned in towards her He placed a hand on her cheek.
"My wife," he whispered. His lips met hers in a kiss. His body was warm. She clung to his shoulders, pulling him down to the ground with her. She stared into his eyes to see fire, to see the smoke swirling around them, feeling his hands squeeze her skin, and his body press against hers so hard that her limbs went numb and she stifled a shout.
It hurt. He never left bruises or marks on her before, grabbed her this tight, or crushed her with his weight. As warrior like as he was, Odin had always been a gentle lover. Was it that they had left their desires to burn for too long? Or was it something else?
She had waited so long. She wanted him. But even when they embraced, their sweat mingled, and their flesh joined together, she still felt chills.
Something wasn't right. She felt it in her bones.
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She clutched the edges of the basin and retched. Her throat and stomach burned each time she felt the bile move up. Her head spun, she saw stars flicker before her eyes, and she feared that she would faint again.
Freyja's forehead touched the floor. She coughed, her vision blurry from the tears, vomit dripping from the corner of her mouth, her shaking arms struggling to hold her up. She let out a groan.
It was too late in the pregnancy to still be dealing with morning sickness. It should have stopped months earlier but it worsened so much that she could not eat anything besides bread or broth. She had not gained or lost weight; her body still was thin like before. Her strength started to fade. She tired easily to a point where she felt weak if she even walked for a short distance. She was overcome by fainting spells which became so severe that she was confined to bed. She could feel the pregnancy age her: her once vibrant blonde hair thinned and grayed. Her eyes, lined with wrinkles, were hollow and pale.
She could not sleep. Dreams of smoke and fire clouded her mind. A monster hovered over her, with red arms and black nails that clawed at her stomach. She screamed and screamed but could not stop the monster from tearing her to shreds. It was then she woke up in a panic, feeling a twist in her womb. The baby kicked when she slept.
She dared not let anyone else besides the midwife know her pain. She even kept it a secret from her own husband. Potions and spells kept her up and running, but their effect lasted only for so long. A few hours, just enough to go out her duties as queen before having to retire to her chambers or replenish again. It was the first time in thousands of years that she was with child. The whole realm awaited the birth of the royal heir that would fulfill the prophecy meant to save them all. She could not let them down. She was the Allmother.
Freyja wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and got up to her feet. She started towards the door.
The baby kicked.
Her legs wobbled and she grabbed onto the bedpost for support. It was as if someone had given her a blow to the stomach and moved their fist upwards towards her chest. She nearly keeled over again, trying to steady herself with a deep breath. Her breaths came out in gasps, her chest tightened, and she swore she could feel the baby kicking her even harder,as if it were trying to rip its way out of her.
There was a knock at the door.
"Your Highness?"
It was a servant. Freyja straightened her posture and turned to see the servant walk in.
"Do you want your breakfast now Milady?"
"Yes. Please," Freyja answered in a low voice.
"Are you alright Your Highness?" The servant asked, noticing the bags under her eyes and how pale she was.
"No. I am just tired."
"Very well. I'll tell the kitchens."
"Thank you."
The servant left. Freyja's knees gave out and she sunk down, a hand on her lower stomach.
Something wasn't right. She felt it in her womb.
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She could not stop gazing down at her newborn daughter.
The child had been drifting in and out of sleep. Freyja snuggly held her in her arms close to her bosom. The baby had adjusted well in her first hours. Her face still was a flushed red, but began to fade into a rosy pink. A mess of blond curls sat on her head, and she stared up at her mother with wide blue eyes.
She was a beautiful baby.
Freyja leaned down and kissed her on the head.
There were little droplets of blood underneath the baby's nose. It seemed as if the midwife had missed a spot while cleaning her. Gently, Freyja moved a finger across the area between the nose and mouth.
There was no trace of blood on her finger.
The baby made a gurgling sound. She snorted out a black vapor, thick with the smell of volcanic ash. Freyja lurched back. Her arms shook and they sunk down to the bed. Her thoughts flashed to the tryst in the space between the realms, of the smoke and fire around her,of Odin's deathly grip, and the sinister look in his eyes.
The chills returned. Freyja shivered both from the cold and fear. There was a fire in the baby's eyes, black and orange, that burned, and Freyja knew she wasn't staring down at her child any longer. Freyja's heart pounded, and she felt the urge to drop the child, to cast her aside, to scream. She wanted nothing to do with this beast that had taken over her child.
The baby had gone calm. Her eyes were once again a bright blue. She gazed up at her mother for a second then closed her eyes once more. Freyja relaxed but traces of fear still lingered.
Something wasn't right. Freyja held her in her arms.
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The midwife and another servant had helped her up from the bed and guided her out to the palace gates. The labor had been a long one and she still had not recovered completely from the pain.
Odin had snatched the child from her grasp. Typical. Getting all the attention and glory for a child he only gave his heat and seed to. If he were the one who suffered through her agony, he would have begged for the midwife to cut the child from his belly a mere month into the pregnancy.
Freyja heard cheers as Odin held up the bundle for all to see. She looked out from behind one of the columns.
She noticed a change in her. It was as if handing off the baby to Odin had drastically improved her health. She no longer felt fatigued like earlier, her head felt clear, and some color had returned to her cheeks.
She could stay annoyed at Odin for as long as she'd like but she was grateful that he was holding the child and not her.
"Do you want to hold your sister Angela?"
"I would be honored."
Take her away Freyja pleaded mentally. Take this burden away from me
Odin handed the squirming bundle over to Angela. His eldest daughter glanced down at the baby with a loving look in her eyes.
It happened too fast for anyone to process.
Angela pointed her hand up and there was a flash of white light and gray smoke. The crowd gasped. The two daughters of Asgard had disappeared.
Thoughts raced through Freyja's head. Did the Angels know the hell she been through? How? Or was this just a coincidence that Angela decided to steal the baby?
The reason did not matter. Freyja's heart lifted. Tears welled in her eyes. But they were not tears of sadness but joy. The source of her anguish was gone. She had spent two long years close to death's door and now she felt safe. She should feel guilty, as a mother she knew she should, but whatever had dwelled in her womb was no child of hers.
"Heimdall. Find her," she said.
She hoped that Angela and the child would escape to a place far away where they could never be found.
For the first time in a long time, Freyja was not afraid.