As the darkness that took Frigga dissipated, she shivered at warm breaths of wind dancing over her form. She attempted to draw air into her lungs—and could. She wondered why this surprised her. With not a little fear, she decided to try another feat. She cracked her eyes open in slits, then farther and farther until they opened fully. Clear crystal sky formed a canopy above her. She was...outside?

She felt a sudden urgency to protect her midsection. She clasped her hands closely to her body. No pain. But, why had she thought there would be pain? She forced herself to a sitting position and glanced around. She was alone in a field of green swaying in gentle breezes. She put a hand to her head. The field and the breeze were entirely pleasant, but felt wrong. She couldn't remember how she'd come here or why.

She stood gingerly and picked a direction. She might as well walk while she tried to piece together what had happened. A feeling pressed on the edges of her mind, something sad concerning the dear son of her heart, Loki. I must get back to Asgard. She felt danger for him even if she couldn't recall his trouble. She picked up her pace, but continued for some time in a field that seemed absent borders. She'd been in many places in Asgard, but this beyond her experience. She rubbed her forehead. What did she remember last? Nothing. Her thought was too muddled.

Frigga slowed when she heard voices, shouting. She crowned a hill and looked down at a combat tournament in progress. Two competitors were pacing around each other with swords drawn, but they wore no armor. Foolish. An audience perched on each side, cheering and jeering at this or that jab and block. Frigga smiled in spite of her situation. She'd enjoyed many a competition in her day and they seemed to be having such a good time she hated to spoil it by overshadowing them with the arrival of the queen of Asgard.

She paused a couple minutes, enjoying the show, until several of the audience started to point in her direction and others to turn and look. The combatants stopped as the commotion swelled and looked her way. They saluted with their swords, then waved them, gesturing her down.

Frigga sighed. So much for the show. She moved down the hill to the gathering. A lone woman ran towards her and knelt before her. "My queen."

"Please rise," Frigga insisted.

The woman stood. Frigga had never seen her before. She would have remembered such vibrant red hair and misty grey eyes. "How come you here, my lady?"

Frigga glanced at the crowd. They had not pressed in on her, but listened anyway. "I am...embarrassed to say it...I don't know." There was a murmur through the crowd.

"Oh. Oh."

"I need to get back to the palace."

"Yes. The palace. Of course." The woman looked to the others. "Go on. I'll return."

They nodded and smiled and went back to their fun. As Frigga followed the woman, she regretted she could not stay.

"What is your name?" Frigga asked.

"Jordis."

"May I ask, where are we?"

Jordis looked sideways at her. "You mean, where in Asgard?"

"I don't recall being here, though you know me."

Jordis smiled wistfully. "I only saw you once. A visit to the capital when I was a child. You were passing in the streets. You were beautiful. You are."

Frigga smiled. "You're very kind." That explained how the woman had known her, but not where she was. "I still don't know where this is."

"There is someone who can explain that to you better than I," Jordis said, eyes twinkling.

Frigga suddenly became suspicious. "Is this one of Loki's tricks? If it is, he will get an earful when I get home and punishment no matter how old he is."

Jordis laughed. "It's no trick."

"I do not forget things so easily. Why have I forgotten this place?"

Jordis suddenly reached out and grasped her hand as they walked. "My queen, do not fear. All will be clear when we reach the palace."

Frigga might have reacted uncomfortably to this strange woman being so forward with the queen of Asgard if she hadn't felt such assurance in the gesture.

They climbed a hill taller than the previous one and when they reached the top Jordis pointed. "The palace."

Frigga's brow furrowed. It wasn't the palace. It wasn't even a palace. It was a twisted mass of trees and branches though they did seem to form a semblance of roofs and canopies and rooms. She spied Asgardians lounging around inside through numerous gaps.

"Now I know this is a trick!" she declared. "You have not taken me home."

Jordis gripped her hand tighter, pulling her down the hill. "Trust me, my lady. There is someone who will come to see you and explain."

Frigga allowed herself to be guided by the woman to the edge of the forest structure. Chatting and laughter met her ears and she peered in at the people mingling together. "What is..."

"Patience," Jordis implored. "Please."

Frigga sighed, but waited. She'd had a lot of practice waiting in her lifetime and fell into it easily. A few minutes passed, then there was a sudden cry. "Frigga!"

Frigga moved her head from side to side, searching for the owner of a familiar voice. A woman appeared, staring, then running right up to her. She threw her arms around the queen and this did take Frigga aback. She pushed away. "I am the queen," she reminded her subject.

The woman ran a hand through her dark hair. "Yes, I know you are. My dear girl, come with me."

Frigga glanced at Jordis.

"It's alright. You can trust her," Jordis encouraged, bowing and turning to head back the way they had come.

Frigga stared at the newcomer's uncomfortably perceptive brown eyes. She felt uneasy in this woman's presence, yet when she turned and moved into the structure, Frigga followed.

They passed many people reveling. Sometimes Frigga thought she recognized them and she kept looking for Loki and Thor and Odin. The woman exited the structure which was backed by a sparkling, flowing brook stretching from horizon to horizon.

"Are you thirsty?" the woman asked.

"A little," Frigga admitted.

"Sit with me." The woman sank down to her knees. Frigga lowered herself slowly. "Go ahead. Drink."

Frigga narrowed her eyes, unsure if she should trust someone she had just met in a place so strange she hardly believed she was in Asgard anymore.

"It is delicious water. It will quench your needs," the woman encouraged.

Frigga figured she didn't want to offend whoever these people were, especially as she needed their help to remember and find her family. This must be some ritual and perhaps this woman was a leader here. She leaned over and reached down to cup some water in her hand. She brought it to her lips and sucked. "Um," she muttered. It was sweet, almost like thin honey. Then she gasped. Her vision had exploded. Images poured through her mind like a rushing waterfall. Years passed, her childhood, youth, adulthood, Odin, armies, battles, a palace, a newborn son, an unexpected second child, motherhood, pain as first one then the other of her boys was ripped from her grasp, their returns, one to humility and triumph, the other to pain and shame. Then, a girl, a mortal, loved and so worth the sacrifice of...me.

Frigga gazed at the woman. She blinked and brought a hand to her mouth. "Mother?"

The woman smiled broadly. "Oh, my girl," she breathed. "I have missed you."

"Mother!" Frigga fell into the woman's arms just as she had when a child. The woman drew her into her lap and caressed her back. Frigga held her for a long time, then pulled back to consider her. "I can't believe it. You are...Are you still dead?"

Her mother nodded. "I am. And so are you."

Frigga put her hand to her midsection, remembering a sword thrust through, though there was no pain in the memory. She had felt herself die with Odin's arms around her. She ran her eye over the forested palace. Now she knew why she recognized so many of these people. Some were friends, and others enemies, who had left the living before her.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

Her mother crossed her legs, sitting straight and tall. "A place of myth come true: Folkvangr."

"But...Folkvangr is a place for warriors."

Her mother laughed. "Such it is claimed in Asgard by men who imagine their fame lasts beyond death. Yet what warrior has not a backbone in the women who make his exploits possible? Who can give them the will to fight as much as those who love them so dearly?"

Frigga nodded thoughtfully. All she had read sequestered this realm to soldiers, but yes, her mother was right. Soldiers had the support of their mothers and wives and daughters.

"So then, it should not surprise you that we are here, too."

"I suppose so..." Frigga said.

"And even if women were not to appear here, did not battle send you here?"

Frigga recalled her short lived fight with Malekith and his henchman. "It was hardly a battle."

"A mother's sacrifice for her son is as honorable as a warrior's thousand kills. Freya knows this."

Frigga tilted her head at the name. "So, it is true Freya rules this realm?"

Her mother laughed again. "Not so much as rules. Manages. Guards."

"Will I...see her?"

"Perhaps."

Frigga shook her head. This was so much to take in. She reached out and took her mother's hand. "I have missed you, too," she echoed her mother's previous words.

"There are others who will want to see you as well. Come." She stood and Frigga followed. "We will greet them and feast and afterward a trip to Valhalla."

"Valhalla?" The paradise so wished for in Asgardian poetry.

Her mother pointed. "Do you see that bridge?" A wooden bridge crossed the brook several meters away. "Over that and down a path and you come to Valhalla. Most warriors do love to play there rather than here. Your father and brothers included."

"I can see them?" Frigga felt elation growing. It had been so long.

"You will." Her mother entered the forest palace again and Frigga walked beside her hand in hand.

Frigga lost track of time, if time even existed in this place, as she greeted so many relatives, friends and former subjects. When she felt she could no longer contain the giddy happiness of meeting all these before her, her mother guided her to a great hall in the forest palace peppered by wooden tables lavished with fruits of all kinds Frigga didn't recognize. They joined others already eating. Frigga marveled when she observed that every time a fruit was taken another appeared in its place.

"Is this as good as the water?" Frigga asked.

Her mother who sat next to her on a bench took a large bite of a curling red fruit. "Even better."
Frigga considered the fruits. She picked a vibrant green one and reached out for it, but as her fingertips brushed its skin, an electric shock jolted through her arm to her elbow. She jerked her hand back. "Ouch...Oh...No. No." She jumped up from the table, hurrying out of the hall. She heard her mother following after her and ran faster to escape, zipping out of the palace and back up the tall hill.

"Frigga! Frigga!"

She ignored her mother's voice, though she soon caught up with her and grasped her arm. "Let me go!"

"Frigga! Stop!"

"He needs me!"

"You can't help him."

"I have to!"

"You can't."

"No!" She ripped her hand from her mother's grasp, charging down the hill. "I'm coming," she whispered. "I'm coming." For when she had touched the fruit she had beheld her Loki, imprisoned, alone, disheveled, despondent and she felt that if she ate that fruit, she would remember him no more.

Frigga ran until she passed the combat match still in progress, though now with different combatants. She continued on, desperate to find where she had awoken in this place. She rationalized as she ran, pushing away fears that she truly was dead, clinging instead to a hope that she existed in delirious dream. I'm in Eir's chamber and she's left me unconscious to heal, she told herself over and over.

"My lady?"

Jordis had appeared again. She must have seen me as I passed the combat match.

"Are you alright?"

"No," Frigga said shortly.

"This is a good place. You should be pleased here." Concern colored her voice.

It was a good place. But I could never forget my sons. "I'm going back home." Wake up! Wake up!

"There isn't a way out. You can't go back."

"There has to be a way," Frigga muttered, turning from Jordis and resuming her search.

"I don't believe there is."

Frigga whipped her head around. "You don't believe means you do not know for certain."

"That's...true."

"Why do you hesitate? What do you know?"

Jordis shifted uncomfortably back and forth on her feet. "I only know a rumor."

Frigga knew sometimes a bit of truth resided in rumor. "What is it?"

"Only that Freya leaves sometimes."

The ruler of this realm or manager or whatever her mother wanted to call her. "Where is she?"

Jordis shrugged. "Sometimes she is here. Sometimes she leaves."

"She leaves. Then there is a way out."

"For her. We are never allowed to follow."

"You have seen her leave?"

Jordis slowly nodded.

"Take me to this place."

"Uh...You're not supposed to..."

"Take me. I order you as your queen."

"There," Jordis said, pointing at a dark entrance in the side of a large hill rolling in bluish weed. They had walked for some time, Frigga increasingly afraid the woman had lied to her.

"She lives in this hill?"

"I don't know what is inside. I already told you we can't follow her."

Frigga stalked towards the black opening.

"It hurts."

Frigga paused, looking back. "What?"

"You can't get through. It hurts too much."

"You've tried?"

Jordis shook her head. "Others have."

Frigga looked to the entrance, set her mouth in a grim line and headed into it. It might hurt, but not seeing him will hurt worse.

An immediate chill assaulted Frigga as she entered and soon an oppressive darkness pressed in on her. And yet, she could still see. A dream. It's because I dream. The chill became a freeze. She clutched her arms to her breast, but no warmth seeped into her as if she were a bloodless ghost. A dream. A dream. Her teeth chattered and she trembled all over.

The path turned and sloped downwards into an area jutting with gray rock. She began to descend, but almost immediately lost her foothold on loose pebbles under her feet. She slipped several meters and cried out when she slammed into a solid rock. Sharp pain exploded in her right arm. She cried out and grasped at it. It hurts, but it's a dream. She grabbed the rock to pull herself up and cried out again. Now her hand throbbed. She fought to keep her balance and slowly rose without aid. I won't stop. I won't. Down she went, slipping and incurring more wounds, but she made it to the bottom.

The cold ran up against hot and thick mist formed around her. At first the change was welcome, but soon the heat caused her to wipe her brow, only to discover an absence of sweat. A dream. Her breath caught in her throat as she choked on the watery steam. A pit rushing with liquid fire appeared before her. Flat stones crossed it, but they were widely set. She put a still throbbing hand to her chest. It looked impossible. I have to go on. He needs me. She crouched down. She jumped. She hit the first stone, then the next. She hopped and leaped. Once she miscalculated and her right foot slid into the fire. She screamed as liquid flame swallowed its prey. She looked down. Her foot remained, the pain lingered. How could it all feel so real?

Frigga limped on. She entered another tunnel, this one pleasant with a breeze. She sighed in relief, though it ended with a whimper. A pinpoint of light barely registered at the far end. I'm almost there. I'm coming. Suddenly she crashed into a barrier. She gasped, trying to see the impediment. There was nothing to stop her, no wall. She held her hand out. Something met her touch, something not solid, but more like thick clay. She pushed. It budged slightly. She laid her shoulder against it. She shoved forward, taking one step, then another and another. She grunted, fighting the invisible barrier that sought to deny her the light. "You won't stop me!" she shouted. Pushing, clawing, grasping, she made it to the light. The barrier disappeared and she pitched forwards, tumbling forward. She tried to stand, but crumpled, gripping her sides, legs pulled in. A soft hand rested on her brow. She blinked. Eir?

"How you must love him." The voice rang like purest song.

Frigga stared. The face of the most beautiful being she had ever seen took shape above her, milky white skin, a tinge of pink in the cheeks, eyes that sparkled with multiple colors, hair of pure white spilling over robust shoulders. A golden crown molded to resemble a branch and flawless leaves sat upon a smooth brow. The being gripped her by the arms and pulled her to her feet. Frigga almost lost her balance, but the being held tight, meeting her eye to eye.

"Very few make it through." The voice smiled.

"Who...are...you?" Frigga stammered.

"Oh, queen of Asgard, I think you know."

Frigga felt despair well up in her eyes, though no tears fell. "Freya." If Freya were real, if she was here...

"So I am."

The luminescent Freya lifted her up, carrying her to a bed of leaves. Frigga saw now that the lighted room was an underground garden of sorts, lush, beautiful and good.

"I want for all to be at peace in this realm," Freya said, running a hand over Frigga's temple. Her pain ceased. "But you have thrust it away."

"I have to go back," Frigga strained out. In the face of such severe beauty, she thought her plea unholy.

"You cannot. Your body has been burned."

Her body? Yes, they would set it sailing and light her pyre. She held a hand up in front of her. But...

"This is an illusion of sorts. A body not yet a body waiting for the renewal of history."

"I can't...go back." Frigga curled inwards, her body shook.

"You must eat the fruit of forgetfulness. Let it take the burden you bear."

"I won't forget!" she snapped, sitting up and glaring at the glorious being.

Freya knelt down, staring into her face. "You will eat."

Frigga trembled. She bowed her head, feeling like a naughty child.

A light hand took her shoulder. "But not yet." Frigga looked up as hope exuded from Freya's words. "At times, I am given the grace to let individuals in my realm look back to the living. All I can offer you is the chance to see those you love one more time. Impart what comfort you can."
"Please, oh please," Frigga begged.

Freya lifted her by her right hand and drew her into a shaft of light. "Look up."

Frigga obeyed, facing a light so bright if she lived it would have blinded her.

"I cannot break the boundary for long. Our realms are not meant to mix. You must choose he you wish to aid quickly."

Frigga nodded understanding. A hand pressed into her back. She thrust upwards, hurtling into the light. Stars appeared and a black background. She glimpsed round orbs of various colors as she whipped past. In seconds Asgard appeared before her. She had never seen it this way. She wondered if this was what Thor saw when he flew. She careened towards the palace and through a window, passing guards and servants and maids in the halls. Her speed slowed when she sensed a soul she craved near. There! Thor. She hovered. He sat in a room, but he was not alone. The mortal, Jane, had her arms around him. He was speaking into her ear and she had tears in her eyes. He is loved. Jane will love him and comfort him. As much as she loved Thor, Frigga sped on. He was in good hands.

She approached the throne room. A soul she had savored for thousands of years caused her to linger. Odin spoke at council. He pretended control, but she perceived underlying grief. She almost went to him, but then she caught how tired he was. His health had been declining. She thought she would see him again soon. And he was strong. He could go on. She let him go and moved on, speeding from the heights of the palace to the depths of the dungeon, seeking a lonely soul without a defender.

Frigga passed prisoners of war, searching. Suddenly she saw him and her motherly passions ached. He sat on the floor, back to a wall, legs outstretched. His cell was in disarray—every piece of furniture lay as though it had been thrown and the books she had so lovingly sent him had been torn to pieces, ancient pages scattered about. But the state of the room meant nothing compared to her son. His head was bowed, his hair disheveled, his eyes blank.

Frigga floated through the front cell window, observing him as she approached. He stared at something resting in his lap. As she drew in front of him she saw it was the thin childhood book she had sent, intact and unopened. "Oh, Loki," she groaned, coming down to his level. She reached out to take his face in her hands. She thought she would pass right through, but an electric tingle buzzed through her hands as she cupped his chin.

Loki gasped and raised his head. "Mother."

Frigga started, pulling back. Did he see her? But his blue eyes looked right through her. She put her hands to his face once more.

He closed his eyes, breathing out shakily. To her surprise and pain, tears slid down his thin face. She hadn't seen him cry in hundreds of years.

"Mother," Loki breathed out again, "forgive me." He pulled his arms into his chest.

Frigga suddenly understood. He grieved her. The room's destruction and his neglect were his doing. Frigga soared and sorrowed at the same time. Such a reaction revealed he had loved her all along, but she hurt because he hurt. "I do forgive you," she whispered. "I have."

Loki sucked in multiple breaths and for a moment the tingle in her hands grew intense as he pressed into her hands. She felt so certain he must know she was there even though he did not acknowledge her presence.

A sudden, forceful tug warned Frigga that the grace of her moment had come to an end. She wanted to fight, but knew it useless. Instead she held onto him as long as she could and when the yanking became unbearable, spoke her last words to her second son. "I love you." She let go.

The cell zipped away, the palace coming into view almost instantly, all she had seen at her coming reversing at her going. Asgard, then other planets, stars, darkness, light, Freya. Frigga collapsed backwards into the luminous being.

"How glad I am I had the grace this day to comfort you," Freya said. Frigga was enveloped in Freya's beauty as she felt abruptly weightless. She was transported through the dangers of the cave with no effort. Freya carried her on when they reached the entrance and traversed the land to the palace made of trees. Frigga's mother stood outside. Freya set her charge down gently, then was lost in a sea of people who came out to greet her and speak with her. Frigga's mother pulled her by the hand back to the tables full of feasting and bowls of fruit.

"Eat," her mother encouraged. She sat down.

Frigga slowly sat beside her. She reached hesitantly for the green fruit. This time there was no pain as she touched its skin, but she let it rest in the bowl. "What will become of him?"

Her mother smiled knowingly. "His destiny is not yours to command, just as I was never in control of yours. Let him go."

Frigga stared. For the first time it occurred to her that her mother had been forced to let the living go as well, including her daughter. "I don't know if I can."

"Your love for him is strong and will remain part of him forever. Trust your love and let him live without you."

Frigga picked up the green fruit. She weighed it in her hands. It was heavy. "Will I forget my own love?"

"No," her mother spoke softly. "A mother can never forget. Never. Not even this can take away your heart for those you have loved. But it will lighten your burden."

Frigga considered the fruit. Was she willing to let go her sorrow and the future of those now forced to live without her? In truth, what could she do? She was no longer of the living and could do nothing more for her husband or her sons. Her time had passed.

Frigga cradled the fruit with both hands. She recalled the birth of her first son, long and protracted as a petite body bore a large one. She remembered the relief and the banishing of pain the moment she held him in her arms and his bright blue eyes locked with her own. She remembered her Odin marching into her chambers with a squalling bundle that she took into her arms and heart, the second son she didn't know she needed until then. She breathed one last, determined breath.

My Thor. My Loki. Remember me. Forgive my errors. Cling to my love. And someday be the brothers I always have wanted you to be. She brought the fruit to her mouth and reveled in a taste so rapturous it was beyond words.

Author's Note: Folkvangr is adapted from Norse myth.

Since a reviewer mentioned it, some Norse mythology scholars think Frigga and Freya are the same. However, there is evidence both ways, so some scholars argue they are the same and some treat them as different. Depending on where you fall on Norse mythology, this chapter will read differently and this layer was intended. If they are separate, it can be a literal reading. If they are the same, then is this Frigga's inner conflict with herself as she is dying/dead? I enjoyed bringing this extra depth to the story.