Freya Fanart Novels & Stories

Valor looked up at his helper's face again, before asking, "What's your name?" The Fae woman paused and stared at him for a moment, "Freya." "And how old are you, Freya?" Valor asked, the name rolling off his tongue. "I'm in my 2nd age. Our lives are so long we do not bother with years like you mortals." Freya muttered, scrubbing his leg harder. Valor thought for a moment, "how long is an age? In years if you don't mind." Freya paused, glaring at him, "an age is 100 years. Being in my 2nd age means that I am between 100 and 200 years since birth."

I demonstrated how to operate the catalogue. The holo-Freya was now wearing a dark green bodysuit made of some shimmery material. It had a sweetheart neckline, and its sleeves of black lace clung to her toned limbs, providing a contrast to her bare legs. I turned the image around to show her the back—an intricate lace pattern that covered just enough skin. There was a matching coat, too, where everything was black lace except for the arms, and trimmed with fine green and gold fur. To finish the look, I had chosen six-inch platform ankle boots and a flower-shaped pink pearl hairclip. It was edgy, just like Freya’s personality, but the lace and pearls softened and refined it.

She turned slowly while he approached through falling snow dressed entirely in black today, silver hair moving wildly beneath the storm. God. He looked like winter itself. Eros stopped directly in front of her studying her face carefully. “What happened?” Freya tried answering lightly. Failed immediately. “I’m disappearing.” Pain crossed his expression instantly. Freya laughed bitterly before turning away again toward the cliffs. “First heaven wanted Lealla erased because she loved too much.” Her fingers curled tightly against her sleeves. “Now they want Freya erased because she exists at all.” Eros moved beside her silently. Freya’s voice trembled despite herself. “The wolves looked at me d

And I, personally, would rather launch myself into the ocean. “Stop looking like you’re walking toward your execution,” my sister, Freya, mutters beside me. Of course Freya sounds relaxed. She probably shifts in her sleep just to show off. I love my sister. I really do. But unfortunately, she was also handcrafted by the goddess specifically to make me feel like a potato. Freya Thornwood is petite with dark curls and blue eyes, Beta-ranked, gorgeous without trying, and terrifyingly competent. She’s the kind of woman who can pin a grown wolf twice her size during sparring and still look pretty afterward.

Before Alejandro can speak…I open my mouth to talk. “I am Fiona.” I reply and she smiles at me. I am Freya. She replies and I gasp. Freya is the name given to someone who is a destined speaker for the gods. No one can take the name Freya except she bears the mark of the dark wolf. I cannot believe that I am standing in front of her right now. It is absolutely unbelievable and shocking all at the same time. I don’t know what to say next and she slowly smiles at me.

The trees bent, the fire was snuffed out in an instant, and the Rift. The Rift burst open. Blinding white light flooded the woods. Wind howled like a beast from the deep. And through it… something floated out. No, Someone. Freya. Floating above the ground, her body wrapped in a glowing white dress that moved like mist around her. Her hair was longer, reaching past her waist, pure white now, glowing like moonlight. Her eyes were no longer brown. They were white. Empty, powerful, terrifying. She didn’t blink, didn’t smile, she didn’t even look like she recognized us.

she was still talking and gesticulating with her hands, showing off a small bump on her belly. ‘Let me touch this woman,’ Uru growled in my head. She too was not happy with the way Sylvia was rubbing Calista’s infertility on her face. ‘It’s okay, Uru,’ I told her. I know what letting her out will do and I didn’t want to cause trouble for Calista and Jaxon.But I can’t let this woman keep insulting my friend. “A real woman is known for many qualities, not just the ability to bear pups,” I said, attracting a hostile stare from her. “Qualities like kindness, compassion, love and goodness of heart. No wonder some women were chosen to be Luna and not others.”

My eyes widened when I heard that Freya was still alive, but she was used as some sort of hooker. “What are the chances she will be here tonight?” I asked, leaning forward. “What are the chances that she is going to be brought in here as one of the women that I will need to sleep with?” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Alpha, but we should know what she looks like to choose her from the rest of the girls.” I shook my head. “It’s been a while, but I might know her from her scent.” He shook his head. “That’s the thing, Alpha. They are covered in herbs and spices. You can’t trace them.”

I inquired, turning my face to General Rhodes. “I have a report to make regarding that, my alpha.” General Rhodes replied to me. My face wrinkled as I leaned forward on my chair. “It’s about Freya. The daughter of the traitor.” He continued, and I fell even deeper into a pool of confusion. “And how does the training have anything to do with her?” I asked him, flipping my hands and gently hitting them on my laps. “Alpha Victor. Freya is a curse to this land. Her presence alone is a thorn in our flesh, not to talk of how she is influencing the young wolves to question the pack's rules.” General Rhodes' voice came out sharp and the hall was instantly filled with murmurs.

Behind him, a horrific, high-pitched shriek shattered our silent moment. "My hair!" Freya sobbed. I leaned around Alaric’s thick arm to look. Freya was finally sitting up. She looked like a swamp creature. Thick, black mud dripped from her blonde curls, covering her face. Her fake eyelashes were plastered to her cheeks. Her revealing white top was ruined, soaked in filthy brown sludge that clung to her skin like a disease. She spit a mouthful of dirty water onto the grass. She wiped the mud from her eyes with trembling hands, revealing a glare of pure, unadulterated hatred.