Chapter Text
You never thought your heart could break any more than it had in the past. Many lifetimes of loss and anguish haunted your memories. One would think a goddess would be numb to this sort of thing by now. The scene before you proved otherwise; several losses would now haunt you. In a matter of mere seconds, you watched as who you thought was your husband kill your friend and turn your whole world upside down. Your Týr had never truly returned. All of you had been played for fools.
Odin stood smugly as he held the knife still glistening with poor Brok’s blood to Atreus’s throat. You stood with your sword drawn facing him alongside Freya, Freyr, and Kratos. The air was thick with tension as you frantically looked for an opening to disarm Odin and save Atreus. Adrenaline coursed like fire through your veins; every movement, every sound magnified tenfold. Your sole focus was making sure everyone got out of this alive.
“I will kill you,” Freya snarled at the All-Father. “Plan on that.”
“Mmm. So nice spending time with you again,” he sneered.
He turned to you, a sadistic grin splitting his face. “Oh, and what a shame our little reunion had to end this way ‘love’.”
A white-hot flame of rage and disgust shot through your body like lightning. You wanted to rush at him and gut him right there, but Sindri pleading for Freya’s assistance snapped you out of your fury.
“Ah ah ah… can’t be in two places at one, Frigg,” Odin taunted. The goddess’s frustration was apparent, but she chose to come to Sindri’s aid. It was now up to you, Freyr, and Kratos to thwart the All-Father’s attempt at holding Atreus hostage. He was outnumbered, but this moment had proven he had tricks up his sleeve that none of you had dared to consider. You all had to tread carefully.
“Hey!” Odin shouted as you all closed in on him. “I don’t move, you don’t move. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“I regret many things—killing you will not be one of them,” Kratos spat. “Release my son!”
“I am in control here!” Odin yelled. Control—his greatest desire above all else. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The All-Father was shackled by his need for control like an addict craves a drug. It was apparent in the way his eyes were wide with a euphoric frenzy. The idea of being in control of anything, no matter how minor, thrilled him to no end.
“Throw me the mask,” he demanded. “Now!”
Freyr glanced briefly at you and Kratos, contemplating his next move. Parting with the mask would cost you an important advantage over Odin. However, the possibility of losing another life to the maniac before you would be even more catastrophic.
The next few moments were a blur. Freyr tossed the mask past Odin, distracting him just long enough for Atreus to transform into a wolf and sink his teeth into Odin’s arm. Odin flung him to the ground as he scrambled for the mask and opened the broom closet that had been “Týr’s” room. You rushed at him but one of the many ravens that began swirling around the room nearly clawed out your eye. You swung at it with your sword, killing it, though it made no difference. The All-Father only needed one raven to escape, and he had many.
As the swarm of ravens began to thicken around Odin, he glanced at Kratos and Atreus with a smirk.
“Too bad, son. Looks like war after all.”
Kratos swiftly hurled Draupnir through the air. It caught the mask and ripped it from Odin’s grasp, impaling the wall behind him as he vanished in a storm of feathers. That small triumph was short-lived as your attention returned to the plight of Brok.
Sindri helplessly cradled him as Freya frantically used her healing magic to no avail. Your ears were ringing as Sindri bargained with no one in particular on how to save his brother.
“Stop it,” Brok said raggedly, looking deep into his brother’s eyes. “I know what you done. And I forgives ya. But y’gotta stop. Y’gotta let go.”
With a final labored breath, the light faded from Brok’s eyes and his body fell limp in Sindri’s arms. It felt like a dagger had been plunged into your heart though you knew that was nothing compared to what Sindri must be feeling.
“Brok…?” he choked out as he looked up at the ceiling, broken and defeated. Sindri’s grief was palpable, his breaths growing more ragged as the weight of reality crushed him. He blinked out of sight with his brother’s body. A heavy sorrow hung in the air.
“This… whole time?” Atreus said as he fought back a sob. You shared the sentiment. The disgust from the deception whirled in your mind making you nauseous. You balled your fists so tightly that your nails cut into your palms, not noticing that you drew blood.
Freyr handed the mask back to Atreus.
“So… what do we do now?” he asked, looking at his sister.
“Now…?” she picked her sword off the ground, eyes burning with a barely contained rage. “Now we kill Odin. And anyone who gets in our way.”
“He must pay for what he’s done to us all,” you managed to force out. Your throat felt tight as you fought back the urge to weep.
You looked up as Kratos approached Atreus. “Come,” he said.
“What? Where?” the boy blinked in confusion.
“It does not matter.”
“Where are you going?” Freya asked incredulously.
“We are done,” he stated as he looked off into the distance and handed Gjallarhorn to Freya.
Freyr looked on in disbelief as Atreus handed the mask back to him. As much as you wanted to be angry that they were walking away from this, you understood the position of a father trying to protect his son from more heartache.
“You can’t run away from this, Kratos,” Freya called after them. “Odin won’t stop until WE stop him. We need you here!”
Without looking back, Kratos walked through the door with Atreus and Mimir in tow. The room shook as the doors slammed behind them.
Freyr broke the silence. “Well, this could not have gone any worse.”
“I can’t believe that after everything he would abandon us when the nine realms need us most,” Freya muttered as she began to pace in frustration.
“They’ll be back,” you said plainly.
Freya turned to look at you. “How can you be so sure, (y/n)?”
“I dunno,” you shrugged, staring down at your feet. “Just a feeling.”
Freyr gently tapped your shoulder. “Hey, uh. Are you okay? You’re kind of bleeding. A lot.”
You had been clenching your fists so tightly, blood had begun to drip through your fingers onto the floor. Freya’s eyes widened, then she turned to her brother and handed him Gjallarhorn.
“Yngvi, take this for now and let me tend to (y/n).” Leaning closer to him she whispered, “Give us some space, please.”
Freyr nodded and took the horn. Freya gently wrapped an arm around you and guided you toward her room. “This way, dear,” she said softly.
You shuffled numbly into her quarters. On any other day, the aroma of herbs and flowers would have brought you comfort. Right now, it brought none. Your mind felt shrouded in a haze.
Freya gestured for you to sit on a blanket she had laid out on the floor. You unceremoniously dropped like dead weight onto it, wincing as your body jolted from hitting the ground hard. Though she tried to keep herself together, Freya felt dejected from the events that had just transpired. Even more so, her heart ached for you. She was no stranger to Odin’s treachery and manipulation, and seeing someone else fall victim to his cruelty made her blood run hot with rage. She stayed calm as best she could, knowing that what you needed most right now was someone to support you.
“I’m such an idiot,” you said weakly, tears streaming down your face. “A fucking fool.”
“You are nothing of the sort,” Freya said firmly. She gently grabbed your hands and unfurled your fingers to assess the damage. She cast a small spell to stop the bleeding and began to grind herbs to create a salve for the cuts on your palms.
“I should have been able to tell it wasn’t him. I’m his wife. I of all people should have known something was wrong. Now Brok is dead because I was so stupid . I—” your voice cracked and you let out a shaky sob.
Freya wiped your tears with a small cloth, then began applying the healing salve. When she finished, she wrapped your hands with bandages and rubbed your arm reassuringly.
“I never questioned when he wanted to be alone in that damn closet. I felt sorry for him and wanted to give him space after all he had been through. I held him, told him how much I loved and missed him, kissed him—” you couldn’t finish the sentence as bile rose in your throat.
Freya’s heart dropped. “He didn’t… touch… you? Did he?” she asked cautiously. Freya swore if Odin had preyed upon your love for Týr, the next time she saw him she would—
“No,” you said, quelling Freya’s worst fears. “Thank goodness, no. Though he nearly tried, the bastard. I had told him no. It didn’t feel right being intimate with everything going on. I guess that was my sixth sense warning me.”
Freya internally sighed with relief. She was disgusted, though not surprised, that Odin would attempt to take advantage of you in that way.
“You cannot blame yourself for what happened, (y/n),” Freya said, turning your cheek so she could look into your eyes. “Odin’s lies and manipulation know no bounds. No one could have seen this coming. Not you, not even the know-it-all Mimir. I mean that.”
You realized she was right. Odin was an evil bastard, but you never thought he would put up an act for so long, let alone as a son he so despised. Still, you felt overwhelmed by an emptiness; too many negative emotions had assaulted your mind in such a short span.
You looked up at Freya, lip trembling. “You’re right that I shouldn’t beat myself up about it, but… I never thought… that I would have to mourn him twice. I suppose the rumors were true all along. Týr really is dead.”
With that, you burst into tears. Ugly, gasping sobs wracked your body as you clung to Freya. She cried right alongside you; she knew the pain of loss all too well. Though she could only imagine how it must feel to think you were reunited with the love of your life just for it to all be a lie. You cried and cried until no more tears came. Freya continued to hold you, rubbing your back gently as you wept into her shoulder. You pulled away to wipe away your tears with the cloth Freya had given you, breath still shaky. She handed you a flask of water, which you greatly appreciated.
“Thank you, Freya. I don’t know what I would do without a friend like you.”
She smiled softly. “Don’t mention it. Come, you should get some rest. You need it.”
“No, let me help you plan our next move. Time isn’t on our side–”
Freya held up her hand. “Rest,” she repeated. “Freyr and I can handle the planning for now. Besides, we still need Hildisvíni to help us. For now, the best thing you can do is rest up so you can be ready for what tomorrow brings.”
There was no use arguing with her, so you reluctantly agreed to sleep on the bedroll she prepared for you. Once she was confident that you were actually going to rest, she left to go consult with her brother on the next steps you all would take.
The emotional turmoil of the day had completely drained you of energy and despite your aching heart, your eyes grew heavy. Sleep overtook you, though it would not be restful by any means.