How had this happened? He was meant to seek where his beloved sister: Freyja, had gone, vanished to within the nine realms.

But he saw you with your father, taking care of the old fool and his sister felt as if a numbed memory. How could he care when he saw you? That smile that graced your lips and the way you laughed as your father spoke in a drunken mumble.

He wanted you. Needed you. His hands gripped the mighty throne of The All-Father, his skin a burning sensation hotter than any flame as he could envision every aspect of your future with him—his partner, his love, the bearer of his children. his.

How could you refuse a god such as him? He resided within Asgard among The Aesir and their gods while you in the land of Jötunheim, how could you ever refuse such an offer?

He pictured his fingers pressed against your skin, his lips brushing over your own as he claimed them for himself, hands buried within your hair as he pushed away any cloth that hid you from his divine sight.

Freyr had taken upon his own quest, not alerting the gods to his whereabouts as the curse of lovesickness afflicted his thoughts and limbs while he trudged on to Jötunheim with only thoughts of your perfection to move him forward.

His eyes widened as he saw your father’s dwelling, he recalled it—the death of that infernal Jötun, Beli, your brother whom fell to his flaming sword. He cared little if he were your brothers slayer, you would be his love, The Norns simply would accept it.

Freyr, the god of summer and its fertility ventured within your father’s grand halls. Hearing the man’s drunken babbling and the sound of your footsteps to his side of his stupor.

Freyr could sing your praises until the music stopped, until sun fell away or night ran out, he would cry upon you as his love for all of Asgard and The Nine Worlds to see. No matter your refusal.