InsaneJournal

Ingrid was good company. Wanda meant that genuinely; she’s had decent experience in the sentient objects department, from a flying cloak that didn’t have an issue physically slapping sense into someone to Thor’s own weapons, and the most extreme case being the Darkhold, which–well, that was a book of pure corruption and evil. There was nothing else like it and if there was, she did not want to cross paths with it. This sword, however, radiated nothing but good vibes. Happy vibes, even. She was–

Would it be weird to call a sword cute? That would be very weird. She would not.

“Freyr, right?” she greeted, hands shoved into her jacket pockets as she approached. Her cottage was in sight behind her, tucked between trees and looking like something out of a fairytale–or Pinterest, she did like browsing through that sometimes. “I know of you from your sister.”

And from what she had spotted on the network with him being distinctly not sober. Good for him.

“Wanda,” he confirmed, his already large smile growing as the sword zipped around him a few times like an excited dog. “Ingrid. Sages, it’s good to see you.” She’d been a loyal friend for many years, and her loss had always been a thorn in his side. Freyr was well-used to being tricked (his sister, he could confidently say, was the clever one between them), but having a long life meant you could spend a lot of time pricking your finger over the thorns of your mistakes. Those never grew dull.

The sword danced in the air between them, and tumbled over to Wanda as if pointing out who had recovered her. Freyr’s gaze moved from the weapon to the woman, his expression sharpening. “Freya, she spoke well of you. And she hates everyone.” That wasn’t true, not at all, but Freya took a while to warm to folk. If she trusted Wanda, well, Freyr would likewise. So went Freya, so went his nation.

“Flattered to make it on the non-hated list,” Wanda responded smiling, halting her steps once they were close enough. Ingrid had given her the feeling of claimed the moment they crossed paths - and definitely seemed happier being reunited with who she rightfully belonged to. “You’re her twin, right? She has spoken of you too. Good things. Embarrassing stories have been omitted.”

She was happy for Freya. Family was important. In her eyes, family was forever, and she knew the importance of having a sibling (one that you loved and didn’t hate, that was an important distinction) around. A twin, particularly. Seeing a set made Wanda miss her own.

“She’s older by a few minutes,” Freyr confirmed. “Shame about the embarrassing stories, though. That’s mostly what I’m made of.” He said it cheerfully, because it was both true and because Freyr didn’t have an ego when it came to admitting when he was wrong, which… was not a rare occurrence, honestly. Freya schemed and reasoned things out; Freyr just threw himself into whatever and hoped it’d work out.

Sometimes, to his credit, it did.

He held out his hand and Ingrid flew into it as if summoned, and with a roll of his shoulder, he gave a few swipes, taking care to do it where there were no bystanders because boy was that not the kind of drama he wanted any part of. “You’ve been here a while, yeah? Freya said you were Midgardian, or at least what passes for it where you’re from.” A mortal, but also a witch. Freyr didn’t discriminate.

Wanda let out a brief chuckle. A while, yes. “Two years,” she answered. Maybe it wasn’t a while in the scheme of things but for a place that brought people in and then took them away on a whim then, well, for Vallo standards it has definitely been awhile. All that had happened in that time just made it feel so much longer. “From a version of Midgard–but I prefer it here. Less ‘end of the world’ scenarios.”

Her reputation, for the most part, left her alone. She wasn’t a wanted criminal. Didn’t have to worry about this Scarlet Witch prophecy that claimed she would either rule or destroy (with the path that she’d been on, the latter was probably more likely) the cosmos. Wanda could sit in her cottage here. Drink tea. Be angry at season eight of Game of Thrones from the comfort of her couch.

It wasn’t a bad life.

“Ingrid is…” The smile grew. “Her energy is–contagious, if that makes sense? I like her. I was just about to head back home,” Wanda jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, towards the cottage, “if you want to come inside for a bit.”

Freyr barely blinked at ‘two years’ - it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket for his long life - but the thought of being stuck here or anywhere was one that made him feel claustrophobic in his very soul. Not that he didn’t like it here. He did! It was great! But he had never liked being forced to do anything, particularly if it was for his own good.

But an offer to make friends? Freyr was always down for that. He glanced appreciatively at the exterior of her house - it was cozy, familiar-seeming. Certainly a step up from living in a cave in a poison-plant-filled forest, which had been his home for a while. “Thanks, I will,” he said with an easy grin, and followed her inside, Ingrid flying in behind him.

“Ingrid’s a great sword - it’s been too damn long since I’ve seen her. Lost her for a while to Odin,” Freyr explained as he took a seat by the kitchen. “But she looked after Atreus, when he was in Asgard. I’m glad our paths crossed again, even if that asshole was central to it. One of our end of the world scenarios.” He leaned back, stretching. “This place? This place is a vacation. At least so far.” The cottage was one of those that looked relatively small from the outside (and guarded, the demonic Knights of Wundagore looking statuesque as they stood at each cardinal point around it), but the inside was a different story. It wasn’t a manor by any means, and wasn’t all that comparable to a large house but it was roomy. Hanging plants, cozy seating with soft blankets and pillows, scented candles, photos framed on the walls (family photos, wedding photos) - it was home.

“I’ve heard nothing but terrible things about your Odin,” Wanda hummed, moving through the kitchen. Magic had a habit of giving it life when she didn’t feel like lifting a finger but today she opted to keep her hands busy. Stove on the kettle, tea tins out for options, sugar and honey. “Freya recently gave me a more detailed account about what happened to Baldur, and…” A hand gestured into the air vaguely. “My general understanding about everything is ‘fuck Odin.’”

The curse came out of her mouth a little funny with that Sokovian accent. It wasn’t as prominent as it used to be–but it was still there, lingering and subtle.

Freyr observed things without comment. He could feel the powerful magics woven throughout the home; the protections that had been put into place spoke of a knowledge of loss. That he understood. The photographs were still new to him, even having been here a few weeks now; how both like and strange they were in comparison to the paintings he was more familiar with. Commemorating events caught in a specific moment of time, no matter how much might have changed since their creation.

“‘Fuck Odin’ is right,” he confirmed with a humorless smirk. “I’m glad she had you to talk with. About Baldur. I wasn’t in her life when all that happened.” He’d never met his nephew at all, an oily, cold thought he didn’t much enjoy examining. His estrangement from Freya had robbed him of more family than just a sister. Leaning back in the chair, he focused his attention on one of Wanda’s cute little succulents enjoying the sunshine on a side table. Freyr didn’t like being reminded of his shortcomings, but he wasn’t going to deny them. “She’s gone through too much. Here, she seems happier. More at peace.” How much of that was her new circumstances and how much of that was Kratos, Freyr couldn’t say, but he was glad of it. “She told me you had kids too, I think I remember?” He gestured to one of the photographs. “Two of ‘em? They here?” He figured they must be, with those magical wardings. Wanda had something to watch over.

From what she noticed, Freya was happier. There was a noticeable difference in her lately and Wanda was glad for it. She only knew a fraction of what she felt–losing a son the way she did, feeling like you were responsible for it despite best intentions–and trying to loosen your grip on self-loathing was hard. “She and Kratos seem to be in a better spot,” she idly commented, not fighting the appearance of a knowing smile. “But I do have children, yes. Twins. I am also a twin. It runs in the family.”

Not that genetics had much to do with her boys but it was true anyway.

She took the seat next to him. Everything else could be grabbed and brought over by magic, and the water was just beginning to reach that low, simmering stage in the kettle. “They’re grown and technically from a universe different from mine but,” she paused to shrug, gesturing to one of the framed photos of them, “they are mine just the same. I semi-adopted another one–that’s Peter, he lives with me. Mostly just to entertain me and keep me company, I think.”

Wanda smiled warmly when saying that. Peter was an adult now; he didn’t have to live with her but the fact that he chose to meant a lot.

“Family’s who you love,” Freyr agreed, thinking of his own little family he’d managed to cobble out over the years. Yes, Freya, of course, but then there had been his army. Sleep with people in a cave while going up against the whole of Odin’s forces, well, you bonded. “I had a little group of people to call my own in Vanaheim. Some light elves, some dark elves… a dwarf. And a really, really slobbery dog.” God, he missed the dog. He hadn’t been forced to pick hair off of his clothes in a solid month and a half now and the thought made him sad.

He had noticed that she hadn’t mentioned the husband. Freya had mentioned something about Wanda being horrifically unlucky in love; Freyr didn’t know the full of it of course but he also wasn’t going to be nosy about it purposefully. “I don’t have kids. Well.” He rephrased. “...kids I know about. God of fertility, I think I’ve got things under control, but still.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “I’ve lived a while, sooooo...” He lifted a hand over one of Wanda’s succulents; it immediately perked and turned a happy green color. “Not gonna rule it out, but spirits and sages, I hope not. Our families too fucked up as is to accidentally leave anyone behind.” Hard pass. That wasn’t something Freyr did, if he could possibly help it. “No one’s come knocking.”

“Oh, you definitely have some unclaimed children out there with that title,” she teased with a sage nod and a little scrunch of her nose. “I mean, would contraceptives even -” Wanda stopped before she said something that made her cheeks change color. That was a personal question, she couldn’t simply ask someone she just met whether or not normal contraceptives even worked for them.

Was that the kettle whistling? It was the kettle whistling. It floated over like it had a mind of its own, pouring into their cups. “I actually made mine with magic,” Wanda recovered, clearing her throat. “I - well, I can’t call it an accident because it was what I wanted, but I made myself pregnant. No fertility magic. It’s…”

She did a little flourish of her hand, leaving little wisps of red energy behind. “Chaos magic. Creation from nothing.”

He’d accepted his cup of tea from-- well, thin air, but it was fine, it was whatever, Freyr had seen a lot of weird shit in his time and it was a hard sell to bother him. That was probably obvious from his complete absence of fluster over the topic of conversation, despite Wanda’s own stop-and-start.

He wasn’t disengaged, however; he was the opposite: leaning forward, he studied the red shifts of strange light entwining around her fingers. Chaos magic. He hadn’t heard of it, at least not called by that name, but he knew enough to know that it was probably teeth-rattlingly powerful. “Pretty,” Freyr observed, and immediately felt a little stupid, because that was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it? Scholars probably would have grilled her on it, or had something incisive to say about the whole creation from nothing claim, because the cost of magic had to come from somewhere, right? But hell, Freyr was no scholar, and it was pretty, and any intellectual chit-chat he might have tried to make about her unusual abilities would clock his lack of knowledge on the topic.

So he grinned teasingly instead, and gave her a little gentle shit, because that was what he did to people he instinctively liked: “Made yourself pregnant, though? Out of nothing? Good news, if that was your goal, there are more fun ways to cross that one off your list.”

Wanda shouldn’t have burst out laughing the way she did.

It was stupid. Or - just silly, rather, and she quieted herself quickly by scrubbing a hand down her face and then finally busying herself by adding some condiments to her tea. Honey, a splash of cream, all of it stirred with a gentle whir of telekinesis. It looked like her cup held a tiny cyclone. “Not getting pregnant,” Wanda declared, pressing a hand into her forehead. A sigh had been exhaled but it wasn’t exasperation - could one sigh from amusement? Because that’s what that was. Amusement. “That is something–well, that ship has sailed for me. Vallo took my husband, and then my boyfriend…”

Wanda trailed off at the end there, visibly cringing at the way that sounded. There was no sadness present; she had mourned it all already, pushing herself to move forward. Sometimes she looked back at the mess of it all and thought, wow, my love life is one cosmic joke. “I am a bit cursed in that department but, I’m happy with my twins. No need for babies or anything extra.”

That extra was in reference to relationships of the romantic variety. She was done with those. She had tried and succeeded, loved, and despite the losses, her regrets were none. But she wasn’t eager to test the whole ‘third time’s a charm’ saying.

There was a lot to read between the lines there, but Freyr didn’t read for pleasure and he wasn’t about to start now. “Sorry about your being cursed,” he said, because even though he’d been here at Vallo for only a short amount of time, he’d seen people come and go, and the sadness it frequently caused. Wanda probably didn’t mean she was literally cursed, but if it caused that much pain, who really cared about the classification?

Adding a truly inadvisable amount of sugar to his tea, he admitted: “I’ve been too busy in recent centuries to do anything like settling down. Between the war with Odin and the conflict with the Light and Dark Elves, it’s been nonstop yack-yack-yack, trauma-trauma-trauma, you know? It’s why here, I’m fine with just…” he struggled to find a polite way to say “sitting on my ass”, and finally landed on: “...vibing. I’m not really a ‘make war’ kinda guy, anyway. I figure I’ll bless some crops and work on a nice tan for a few millennia. If Vallo lets me stay here.” He looked at her with some speculation over the top of his tea cup. “Kiiiinda hoping it does, at this point.”

Oh, Wanda definitely got the whole trauma-trauma-trauma. Back home was a mess, and she was sure that having a castle collapse around her didn’t really spell out her death–despite what her desires were, and how she felt that all would be better if she just offed herself. All she had ever really done to that world was harm it.

There was nothing to go back to, anyway.

“Very okay with vibing as well,” she hummed, chin propped up into her palm. “Do what you want. The people of your world seem to have a good record of staying here long-term. I’ve hopes for you. A few millenia may be stretching it, but…” Wanda chuckled. “Worth a try.”

“Worth a try,” Freyr repeated, agreeing with a shrug, and knocked back the rest of his tea like it was a shot. It was, admittedly, a bit hot for that, and he tried to politely not die. Once he was sure he could talk and not cough, he shot her a chagrined expression, shameless, and stood. He wasn’t a tall man - he and Freya were the same height - but he was solidly built, sure of the space he took up. He gestured, Ingrid sprang to life and circled around him happily.

“Thanks for the hospitality, to me and Ingrid,” he said. “Let me know if you want to work out a visitation schedule, keep this friendship with her flourishing, when you’re not running around helping out family. Cause hey,” he tossed out over his shoulder, and shot her a grin. “Ingrid thinks you’re pretty cool. Wouldn’t mind spending more time.”

Ingrid hesitated in the air, as if confused but not objecting.

Freyr sighed. “C’mon, Ingrid. That was a great line. It was gonna work.”

Ingrid zagged.

Wanda wasn’t in a rush with her tea. She brought it to her lips, took a sip to test the temperature and sweetness – and it was perfect, as expected. “Ingrid flatters me,” she told him, licking the flavor of her beverage from her lips. “So feel free to visit. I’m hardly up to anything exciting these days. I’ll take the company of a sword.”

Cup set back down, she set her chin back into her palm and watched Freyer with an eyebrow raised. She was amused, no doubt about it. Freyr was amusing in general. The lightheartedness was… contagious. “The sword wielder is welcome too. I’ll spike the tea next time.”

Any (sane) family of Freya’s was a friend of hers.