“That is not going to prove anything and you damn well know it,” he argued quietly. Freyr didn't want a fight. He just wanted her to stay there beside him and not return to Odin's self-righteous land of self-important virtues. “We were something in Vanaheim. Our father was someone there of worth. Who is he now among their ranks? Do you honestly think they will ever view us as anything other than the spoils of war that we are?” Freyr sighed. “Don't be a fool, Freyja.”
He knew she wasn't, which went unspoken. Instead, he pressed his lips to hers and pulled her body closer to his. She was speaking nonsense, even she had to realize this. Speaking of getting to a position where none could usurp her? What position would that be unless she too a position of such power that none would be above her, which would set her above that bastion of mortal virtue and character in terms of feminine behaviors? To do such would set Freyja above Frigg, placing her beside Odin, which while appealed to Freyr on a certain perverse level in terms of just who won the war after all... the jealous streak in him didn't want that bastard touching what was still his wife.
“Don't leave me here,” he said, breaking his embrace just long enough to say so. He was not normally given to jealousy, but he did not want to share her with the Aesir when he wasn't allowed to have her at all. They could rot for all he cared.