Freyja is shining. She is gold and glittering and so full of power that it almost hurts to look at her. She has had her sacrifice; she killed her dark-haired boy at dawn and the thrill of it has not yet left her. He loved her, he offered himself up, and she took all he had. And it has made her strong. On a normal day, Freyja can start wars, raise the dead, cause the seasons to rearrange, and change the world in thousands of small ways. Today, she feels as though she could overturn the earth and remake it again from the ashes. She probably can.
The goddess is outside, not far from where her dead lover's body lies, having seen to it that his corpse was clean and presentable and that the grief was lessened. (He is beyond such things now, sitting with her in Sessrúmnir, waiting for her to bring him back.) Freyja envelopes herself in the power he gave her. At home they would sacrifice scores of people to her, but here there are few believers and that one life, given freely and taken with her own hand, has done more for her than can possibly be imagined.
The power flows through her: it crackles in the air and sparks in her eyes. Freyja throws back her head and laughs like bells and the power of spring.
Typist: One very smug Norse goddess who has
finally had a sacrifice. Yeah... She's a bit scary.