Ragnarök Imagines and Preferences

Daughter of Darkness

Fjor Jutul & Fam

Warnings: angst, death, depression, mentions of suicide 

There is some Icelandic speaking in here, but I put the english words in here too and the translations.

A cigarette dangled out of your mouth as you thought about lighting it and taking a drag from the little cancer stick. The temptation was there, especially after everything tonight.
Fjor Jutul, who was supposed to be your boyfriend, was making out with Gry, your best friend. You slapped some choice words in his face and stalked outside to cool off.

Without a second thought, you climb up on the rail and look down. It was at least a two story drop with fresh snow as your landing. Was heartbreak enough for a quick leap of faith?
You thought so, but Fjor didn't.

"Y/N, wait." His tone holds you captive on the railing, frozen like a statue.

"What. Do. You. Want?" You sneer.

Innocent little Gry, the boyfriend snatcher, stands in the doorway, not exactly knowing that he was supposed to be dating you.

"I want to apologize." Fjor says.

You turn your head and toss the cigarette at your (now) ex-best friend and make a leap toward the tall pine tree, grasping onto a branch and pulling yourself up.

"You don't get to apologize! Isolde was right. You are just an average high school fuckboy who thinks with his dick." You climb down to the lowest branch and leap to the ground in your pink ballet flats. "You took away my happiness and I know Vidar Jutul murdered Isolde." You stalk off toward town, ignoring the biting cold that only fueled your strife.

You hear a growling behind you and Trym launches himself onto your back.

Knowing the only thing to kill a hellhound, you take off your glove and snake your arm around his neck, slowly draining his soul until it's a bloody corpse with blank eyes. You were powerful now with the soul running through your veins.

You stop just before the police station and launch the giant over your head as he runs toward you. "Don't try to stop me, Fjor." You face off against him. "You'll die trying."

"I just want to talk." Fjor stalks up to you.

"I don't want anything to do with you or Gry." You growl, throwing a punch that dealt more than your knuckle hitting bone, but your rage. "In fact, you should probably know she's a virgin and she keeps it secret."

Slowly but surely, your lips turn black and your hair turns white like Killer Frost from The Flash. You feel more powerful than ever as you strut into the station, averting their stares. You plant your hands on the main desk and give the receptionist a menacing glance.

"H-how c-ca-can I-" she trembles.

"Point me toward the woman in charge here." You growl as your pupil is filled with black and you almost resemble a version of Meg from supernatural. "Or I'll kill you all." Your threat was empty. Killing wasn't your forte, but you'd do it to survive.

"Down the hall, first door on your left." She trembles.

"Thank you." You kiss her cheek and watch as she becomes a black-eyed demon. "You've been gifted immortality."

You walk into the police chief's office and find her already quite occupied with Vidar Jutul, like he was waiting for you. And by occupied, you now know why you had to break the door down.
It was pretty fucking clear why he had the cops wrapped around his finger.

"Look who decided to join us." Vidar clasps his hands together and his monstrous, murderous eyes take in your dress that's barely hanging on. "Say whatever you need to say."

"No. I'd like to talk with her alone." You stand your ground. "I don't trust you or your family."

"Þú ert að gera mikil mistök." He speaks in the Old Tongue. (You're making a huge mistake)

"Nei þú ert. Þú myrðir Isolde og lét það líta út eins og sjálfsvíg." You speak back. (No, you are. You murdered Isolde and made it look like a suicide).

"Þú ert frá gamla heiminum, Freya." He realizes you understand the language. (You are from the Old World, Freya)

"Eða ég er bara altalandi á íslensku."  You reply. You hear many pairs of feet standing just outside the office and they surround you. All of the family members sport the exact same white-colored hair she does, but their eyes are a rather peculiar orange-ish yellow.  (Or I'm just fluent in Icelandic.)

"Þú ert loksins kominn heim, Freya. Þú ert öflug gyðja dauðans." Ran Jutul hugs you and hands your gloves back. "Þú munt alltaf berjast við hlið okkar." (You're finally home, Freya. You are the powerful goddess of death. You will always fight by our side.

You sit in the office chair and close your eyes, attempting to reach your brother's conscious mind so you can escape and it works, kind of. It was time to stall.

Your little demon turns all the other cops, banding together your own army and they sulk around, awaiting instruction from you.

"If any of you try something, my demons will hear a single click and be on you within a second." You threaten, realizing you're more powerful and deadly than the Jutuls.

"Sjáðu, Já, ef þetta er um mig að kyssa Gry, þá hefur þú allan rétt til að vera svona." Fjor slumps on the couch. (Look, Y/N, if this is about me kissing Gry, then you have every right to be like this).

"Þetta snýst ekki um Gry. Hún er drusla fyrir þig, svo þú ert fullkominn fyrir hvort annað." You sneer. "Nú er ég reiður yfir því að Viðar hafi verið dirfurinn til að myrða einn af bestu vinum mínum sem hjálpaði til við að lækna þunglyndið mitt og lét það líta út eins og sjálfsvíg. Myndir þú ekki vera trylltur líka?" You rationally question them. (This is not about Gry. She's a slut for you, so you're perfect for each other. Now I'm angry that Vidar had the audacity to murder one of my best friends who helped cure my depression and made it look like a suicide. Wouldn't you be furious too?)

"When you've been alive for centuries, death is just something that comes and goes." Saxa plainly sits out.

You can't believe what you're hearing. Saxa and Fjor were ancient? That was news to you.