Chapter Text
Esther had noted that her son was strange early on in his life. Of course, her daughter was strange too but candles flickering and winds blowing through were common enough when raising a young witch. The twins shared a few peculiarities too. There was a harmony between them, as though one knew what the other wanted without the words being spoken. Still, they were witches, and Esther knew that twins had a connection unlike any other. But her son was odd.
Little Finn was handsome enough for a boy of two years, with a nose he would surely grow into later and a gap-toothed smile that was only for family. He was, however, more melancholy than a child of his age was supposed to be. Sometimes, when no one seemed to be looking at him, he would curl in on himself and stare into the dirt the way her sister used to. Like he had lost something precious, and there was no chance of him ever getting it back. Esther had asked him once, "My darling, what's wrong?" and he had given her a close-lipped smile and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then Freya had jumped in and the opportunity was lost.
He grew up a bit, over the next few years, and that empty stare rarely returned anymore.
Finn was happy enough to follow his elder sister's lead. If she wanted to talk, he would scramble up into a tree and settle in while she joined him. If she wanted to play tricks on anyone, he would clamber into a tree and they would begin their plotting in private where maternal ears pretended not to hear them. They spent so much time gossiping overhead, Esther had taken to calling them Huginn and Muninn, after the ravens that collected information for Odin. She had tried to reign in their gossiping when they discovered something particularly unpleasant, but their Father had argued against it. "We cannot keep bad news from them, Esther." Mikael had said, not privately enough to escape their expert, prying ears. "Where could we hide it? Under the chair?" At that Freya turned large, triumphant eyes to her brother, knocking a knife off the table and giving away their position.
That wasn't to say that it was always Freya leading them on the road to trouble. Finn was an avid climber; he would climb trees, rocks, and he'd even be spotted on roofs from time to time. Freya, though comfortable with the old cherry tree near their home, was not fond of heights someone could fall from. Occasionally, Finn would climb too high and Freya would begin to cry as she watched him. It was during one of these incidents that Freya's magic became undeniable.
The twins were three, their birthday fast approaching, and Mikael was due to leave as soon as the ice thawed. Esther and Ayanna had taken the children to gather herbs on the mountainside whilst the men prepared the boats. Finn had managed to crawl his way into a crevice in the rock with an impeccable view. But it lacked a ledge to stand on.
He used his hands and his feet to support his weight, content to watch small men mill around the longboats at the port, until his sister's sudden scream shook his steady hands and he began to tumble. Finn didn't have enough time to be scared, he clenched his eyes shut and didn't so much as yelp until his fall came to an abrupt stop. In midair. He heard the gasps, but didn't dare open his eyes until his body was laid on the ground. Mother took him in her arms, holding him so tightly it made it hard to breathe. An outsider may have assumed his breath was stolen by the sobs that burst from him, but Finn would later insist that he didn't cry. No, not at all. Well, maybe just a little bit. Freya had held him with her magic, though Mother and Ayanna had been the ones to pull him to safety.
Father was furious with him when he heard, but in the relieved way parents are when they're just grateful you aren't hurt. And he was very proud of Freya.
Apparently, Aunt Dahlia was also proud of Freya. She even travelled to see them after Father left.
Finn didn't like Aunt Dahlia. He didn't like her when Mother greeted her with a smile; he didn't like her when she made Mother upset; he didn't like her when she grabbed Freya and pulled her away; and if he had ever liked her, he stopped when she started spitting words at them.
Aunt Dahlia took Freya, and swore that if Mother and Finn weren't good, she would come back and take Finn and the baby too. That's why they weren't allowed to talk about Aunt Dahlia anymore, especially not in front of Father. Finn nodded along and promised not to tell.
When Mikael returned, Esther told him that Freya had died of plague and they had burned her body to prevent it spreading. Father was so furious, he decided that they had to leave Norway and live elsewhere. Mother was furious too, and she started practising dark magic – the kind Ayanna had told the twins never to ask about.
Another boy asked Finn if that meant he wasn't a twin anymore. The question made him angry, so Finn figured he was furious too. (Secretly, he was glad that boy wasn't coming with them on the boats.)