Assignment - Freyja's Point of View

Freyja -- A Norse Goddess

Imagine yearning for something so fully, so completely that the mere thought of never obtaining it makes your heart lurch in a peculiar, unfamiliar pain. The object is within reach, close enough to touch, yet no matter how far you stretch your arm, your fingertips do little more than lightly brush against its surface. Even then, that small connection is a stroke of luck, a chance occurrence that others would envy. I should know. A piece of jewelry unlike any other beckoned to me deep within a cave. I knew that if anyone were to touch the most beautiful necklace in existence, I, too, would fall victim to wretched feelings, such as jealousy or possession. The moment my gaze fell upon the beautiful example craftsmanship, I found myself drawn to the intricate swirls of metal and gold. My heart thrummed with need. I understood that I desired to take the necklace and have it as my own. If not, then I would suffer from a feeling of utter desolation.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c5/Freyja_in_the_dwarfs%27_cave.jpg

Those four awful dwarves refused to aid in alleviating my pain. As I stood in the warm glow of the furnace, I sensed their eyes sweeping over my body, taking in every curve. They were smitten with me; that much I knew even as my eyes locked on the necklace.  Alfrigg, Dvalin, Berling, and Grerr, I believe, were their names, and they were greedy men with great requests. All four creatures denied my offers of gold and silver when I attempted to purchase the living jewelry. They wished for something more, something many males often demanded from me. Several males have attempted to woo me, but none were greeted with success. Never before had I imagined that a dwarf would win my empty affections, let alone four of their race in four consecutive nights. But that necklace was calling to me as it sparkled in the roaring flames of the furnace. I wanted it. I needed it. If laying with dwarves would allow me to wear the gold around my neck, I was willing to give in to whatever was wished of me. 

Though, I must say, what disgusting and foul creatures these dwarves were! I felt nausea swell within me as I imagined laying with Alfrigg. Or Dvalin. Or Berling. Or Greer. I could hardly tell one ugly face apart from another and all four men shared a similar expression. The greed dancing within their eyes was almost a tangible thing. I felt myself flush as I glanced away. If standing here, looking at these men was a struggle, then how would I ever be able to spend one night alone with each male? How would I be able to overlook their pallid features and misshapen forms? They were vulgar. But the necklace… Oh, the necklace. Laying with these men for four nights was a small price to pay if I could own the necklace for all of eternity. I loathed the dwarves for treating me as the object of their fantasies, but I already made my decision. I had no shame in laying with them. No shame at all. Only disgust. This was payment, nothing more, and once I finished with the dwarves, I would never need to look upon their unsightly faces again. Once four nights passed, the dwarves fastened the necklace around my neck. I again grew flushed as their hands wandered. I made no comment, believing that speech would only drag out our meeting. Finally, finally, the necklace rested against my throat where it belonged. I hurried out of the cave, my cloak pulled around me tightly, planning never to return again. When I reached my bed, I fell into a deep slumber. The stress of the dwarves and the thought of their malformed faces must have tired me out more than I originally believed.

http://www.squidoo.com/jaguirejulie-is-actually-freya?utm_source=google&utm_medium=imgres&utm_campaign=framebuster

When I awoke in the morning, I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers against my throat. When my fingertips touched nothing but soft, bare skin, I sat upright and then jumped out of bed. Four days. I spent four days and four nights with the foul dwarves in order to attain my necklace. I allowed them to have their way with my body. It is true that I did not feel shame those nights, but I knew that all my efforts would be rewarded. Now that my necklace was gone, I felt nothing but fury for whoever dared to steal it from me. Loki was responsible. The trickster god was the only one who could manage to enter my room without forcing my door open. I felt myself flush again as my eyes began to fill with gold. The guilt began to set in. Loki would not have entered my room without a reason. Odin must have ordered him to fetch my necklace. But how would he know? My hand trembled as I fingered my neck again. How would he know about my treasure and my greed? Anger quickly chased away my other emotions.

I bolted from my room and hurried to Valaskjalf. There, I confronted Odin and my suspicions became truths. He informed me that I could take the necklace back into my possession as long as I followed one condition. I whipped my head around and watched him in silence as thoughts flitted through my mind. How could he possibly understand the anger coursing through me? I was the one who lowered my standards and allowed four dwarves to take me. I was the one who cherished the necklace as much as my life. The way that he looked at me only succeeded in infuriating me further.  But, I did not respond. As badly as I wished to speak, I did not utter a word. There was still a chance to win back my necklace. I was not willing to ruin my one last chance, for then everything else with the dwarves would have been for nothing. I would not allow that. 

http://www.vopus.org/en/gnosis/gnostic-anthropology/norse-myths-and-legends.html

Odin's demands were preposterous. He spoke of hatred, war, and reanimating corpses. It was my duty to start a war within Midgard that would not end. At first, I assumed that he was testing me and simply stared, but he did not elaborate further. Allowing kings in Midgard to fight against one another for as long as Odin dictated seemed less revolting than looking at dwarves. I agreed to the condition and was rewarded with the treasure I sought.

I am Freyja, Goddess of love, beauty, and fertility. I am one of the fairest of the goddesses and am loved by many. Men tend to worship me and some wish to take my hand in marriage. Sometimes, a man's lust will benefit the gods, though I dislike giants who wish to control me. It matters little to me if the walls around Asgard were rebuilt on a bet or that Thor regained Mjollnir. Yes, I understand that we need Mjollnir to keep the giants at bay and that the walls also help keep the giants of Jotenheim away from the gods, but I dislike being the object of desire used when my peers feel like bargaining. Some also associate me with gold, war, and death. I have a gift for witchcraft and have taught the craft to those I deemed worthy. My carriage is a recognizable image since it is drawn by two cats. Most importantly, though, I am now complete. I have my necklace and it will never stray away from my throat again. 

http://www.timelessmyths.com/norse/vanir.html

Assignment - A Tale from Aphrodite's Point of View

Hephaestus, Ares, and Aphrodite

Aphrodite Speaks

https://www.art-prints-on-demand.com/a/balen-hendrik-van-the-eld/hephaestus-and-aphrodite.html

Oh, how handsome he looks, cheeks flushed with desire, breath passing through reddened lips. His eyes portray his lust, sparkling in the warm light. The whisper of his breath caresses my cheek as he murmurs gentle words. Tonight, he wishes to woo me. I watch him for a moment, words dancing upon the tip of my tongue, but I remain silent. Compared to Hephaestus, well, it would be a lie to allude at any existing comparisons between the two. Where my husband is lame and repulsive, Ares is young, beautiful, and romantic. His hands are soft, yet tough, unlike Hephaestus' fingers that are only horribly calloused from his labors.

The words that soon reach my ears pull me away from my thoughts and my lips quirk as I breathe in Ares' scent. "Sweetheart, off we go to snuggle down in the blankets," he murmurs, "Your husband? By now, he must be in Lemnos, amusing himself with the Sintian women, with voices like crows." I laugh and shake my head as my fingers brush against his offered hand. The women in Lemnos will find not one redeeming quality in my husband and even if one lady somehow finds him attractive, not much will happen. It is a shame Hephaestus is so enthralled with me. He does not understand love as I do.

http://www.arthistory.sbc.edu/imageswomen/papers/wiggintonaphrodite/aphrodite.html

Ares leads me to my bed, his fingers clenching my palm in possession. He need not worry, for tonight, I am his until my husband returns from his travels. I dearly hope that the man will find belonging in Lemnos and refuse to return for many more nights, but I know of his dedication to me. If only Ares were as passionate and found me before I was betrothed to the lame god. I would not mind being committed to him. He is a fierce warrior and a worthy lover. Yes, if only Hephaestus found a woman in Lemnos to take his hand…

Ares releases me, climbs into bed, lays on his back, and holds an arm out to beckon me forward. A romp with him would be amusing if the look on his face is any indication. Smiling, I take his hand and drift forward, bringing my body close to his. He relinquishes my hand to rake his fingers through my long, golden hair. Already, his fingers are affecting me in a way any part of Hephaestus' body never could. I close my eyes and snuggle with him, one of my legs draping over his groin. My lips find his chest and press a kiss upon his hard muscles. All is perfect until I hear a sound.

I try to throw my head back, but cannot move. Frantically, I glance around the room, trying to comprehend my immobility. It takes a moment, but during one optical sweep of the room, I see threads as fine as a spider's web ensnaring my lover and myself, but I cannot be positive. No, I must not have imagined it. A trap! Who would dare to take me prisoner within my own bed? Ares stiffens so I attempt to look into his eyes, but cannot move my head enough to see his face. He is angry. Or upset. Curse this wretched net! This is Hephaestus' handiwork!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Vulcan_Coustou_Louvre_MR1814.jpg

As if summoned by my thought alone, I hear the voice of the person I least wish to see and clench my teeth behind my closed lips. He planned this. He knew. He knew! If he questioned my motives, he should have held voiced his thoughts to me alone. It would not have done him any good, but speaking is more acceptable than this insult. And he wonders why I have chosen Ares over him. The God of war and battle would never do something so underhanded and infuriating. Hephaestus is lame and will never be anything ore than an embarrassment with a funny gait.

Murmurs fill the room. Of course. Hephaestus would not shout of his victory if he were alone (though, he is rather peculiar). My cheeks grow heated with embarrassment and anger. What is it that this insolent man seeks? Approval? Retribution? Time in bed with me? I will not grant him anything of the sort.

http://thanasis.com/mfeb99.htm

I can decipher some of the voices. Only the masculine gods are present. It makes sense. Gawking at a nude woman in the midst of a romantic interlude would be below the women. So this is what Hephaestus yearns for--pity or other nonsense. I wrinkle my nose and listen, wary of the outcome. Both Hermes and Apollo seem to approve of my affair and speak of Ares' position in jest. Hermes seems to wish that he were as lucky as Ares is and I cannot help but feel a swell of pride at the words. Given the way my lover still has not yet unclenched his muscles of yet spoken, it is evident he does not feel the same. My initial flash of pride is chased away by a flare of anger. How dare he? How dare Hephaestus interfere?

My emotions race, anger, embarrassment, and sorrow each competing for dominance. Finally, we are released from the trap after interference from Poseidon. Ares diverts his gaze and pushed me away as I sit. Neither of us speak as we move in silence. He leaves after that, fleeing from this scene, I would assume. I stand up straight, hold my head high, and exit the room. My shrine in Cyprian Paphos beckons me. There, I may relax and cleanse myself with ambrosial oil while I attempt to forget that unworthy husband of mine.

Who Am I?

Who Am I? 

From the point of view of a Goddess

Ah, look at them down there, pining over one another. Neither one is strong enough to admit what ails them so. With just one push, the relationship would form. Just one. It is tempting, so tempting, but they are wrong for one another. That maiden over there would be better. Yes, those two will do. Now, I must--Ah.

There he is, the king who once stole my heart, now forever lame from a lightning bold. Even in his state, he is still more worthy than that petulant fool of a husband. He knew how to treat a woman. I wish I could release myself from this bind, but the other gods will hear nothing of it. Even after that humiliating experience where I was ensnared in a trap within my own bed. He was angry that I brought another companion to bed? What did he expect? This male was far better company and love should be allowed to flow freely. It should not be held hostage by some… fool.

Enough of that. There are mortals to tend to. Hmm. It might be fun to see what that woman will do if she falls for that man. Oh, what will her sister think? There is but one way to find out. Tonight will not be an empty one.