If you ask most people what they know about Norse mythology, you’ll usually get Thor’s hammer, Odin’s missing eye, or Loki being a nuisance. But if you dig just slightly deeper, you meet Freya — and she’s frankly the goddess who has it all. Love, magic, battle, treasure, tears of gold, and yes, a chariot pulled by cats.

She is not a dainty “love goddess” to be dismissed with a flower crown and harp. Freya is the divine feminine in its full spectrum: tender, fierce, desirable, magical, and terrifying when crossed.

Let’s meet her properly.

WHO IS FREYA?

Her name means simply “Lady” (a nice touch when you’re the goddess to whom everyone defers). She is Vanir by birth — the fertility-minded tribe of gods — and joined the Æsir after the great war between the two families ended at a stalemate. Along with her father, Njörðr and brother Freyr, she came as a political hostage and promptly taught her new hosts the magical art of seiðr. 

She resides in Fólkvangr (“Field of the People”), her realm of the dead, where her hall Sessrúmnir (“Room with Many Seats”) is said to be vast and beautiful — think less endless bar-brawl (Valhöll) and more radiant banquet with space for all.

HANG FREYA WHERE SHE BELONGS: WATCHING OVER YOUR HOME, PREFERABLY FROM ABOVE THE CAT’S FAVOURITE CHAIR

FREYA’S FAMILY

For all her power, Freya isn’t a lone figure: she has relatives who matter in the wider Norse pantheon.

NJÖRÐR: FATHER OF THE SEA

Freya’s father is Njörðr, the Vanir god of the sea, wealth, and seafaring. He’s the one who makes fishermen rich and keeps ships afloat. It’s tempting to imagine that Freya’s taste for glittering treasure came from him. 

Their relationship isn’t described in detail, but Njörðr wasn’t shy about standing up for her. In Lokasenna, when Loki hurls accusations at Freya, Njörðr snaps back that there’s nothing shameful in a woman having lovers — and turns the insult on Loki instead, mocking him for giving birth to the eight-legged horse, Sleipnir. It’s a rare glimpse of fatherly loyalty in the myths, and a very Vanir take: sexuality isn’t disgraceful, it’s natural.

FREYR: TWIN-ISH BROTHER

Her brother is Freyr, god of fertility, sunshine, and harvests — also very much associated with prosperity, wealth, and well… let’s just say physical abundance. Together, Freya and Freyr embody the Vanir’s role as bringers of life and plenty. Some sagas imply a slightly too close bond between them (cue Loki’s insults in Lokasenna). But think of them as complementary forces: Freyr gives fertility to the fields, Freya gives passion and magic to the heart.

FREYA’S MOTHER: THE MYSTERY WOMAN

And what of Freya’s mother? The sources are maddeningly vague. Some late traditions hint that her mother may be the unnamed sister of Njörðr, since the Vanir gods had a habit of keeping the family tree a little… compact. If true, that would make Freya and Freyr products of divine sibling marriage.

FREYA’S DAUGHTER(S): LITTLE TREASURES

Freya is said to have at least one daughter, probably two, named Hnoss and Gersemi, whose names mean “treasure” and “jewel.” Even her children were living metaphors for beauty and wealth.

Freya herself is never portrayed as a “Mother Goddess.” Unlike Frigg, she’s not shown as the patient matron of home and family. She doesn’t bake bread, dandle babies, or dispense parenting advice, which makes Freya’s timeless appeal all the sharper. After all, not every goddess has to be everyone’s mum.

FREYA’S FRIENDS AND FRENEMIES

One of the things that makes Freya so compelling is how she moves through the Norse pantheon. She’s admired, mocked, lusted after, and occasionally impersonated. If the gods were a mead-hall full of loud personalities, Freya would be the one everyone noticed.

FREYA AND ODIN: COLLEAGUES, RIVALS, EQUALS

Odin is the Allfather, rune-master, and collector of the slain. She also taught him (and the rest of the Æsir) the art of seiðr. Without her, the Allfather would be missing a core piece of his magical arsenal.

Their relationship? Not romance, not rivalry in the petty sense, but something like co-rulers who eye each other across the boardroom table. While Odin is definitely the top god, she embodies Vanir-style authority, Odin the Æsir’s, and together they balance the cosmos. 

FREYA AND THOR: THE GREAT CROSS-DRESSING INCIDENT

Thor and Freya don’t interact often in the sources, but when they do, it’s unforgettable. In Þrymskviða, the giant Þrymr steals Thor’s hammer and demands Freya as his bride. When she refuses (so furiously her necklace snaps), the gods decide the only way forward is to dress Thor up as Freya.

Yep, Thor, god of thunder, crammed into a bridal dress, veil pulled low to hide the beard, Brísingamen straining around his neck, trying to act demure while giants fawn over him. Loki, of course, tags along as his “maid of honour.”

The poem doesn’t say what Freya thought of all this malarkey, but you can imagine her smirking from the back of the hall, thinking: “That’s what you get for trying to trade me like a pawn.”

FREYA AND LOKI: TOXIC BESTIE ENERGY

Ah, Loki. As mentioned earlier, in Lokasenna (the gods’ great insult contest), he unleashes a tirade at Freya, accusing her of sleeping with every man and elf in the hall, including her brother. It’s cruel, catty, and designed to sting.

And yet, Loki borrows her falcon-cloak whenever he needs to fly across worlds. She always lends it. Loki and Freya are bound by necessity: they’re both liminal, magical, and slightly mistrusted by the other gods. Maybe that’s why they circle each other like wary cats.

FREYA AND THE JOTUNN: THE UNWANTED SUITORS

If there’s one thing every jotunn wants, it’s Freya as a bride. Þrymr tries to claim her. Other giants are said to lust after her beauty. She is the prize in their ransom demands, the treasure they can’t resist demanding from the Æsir. She never goes willingly, and her refusals are legendary. The giants’ obsession only underlines her status: she is the goddess you ask for if you want the best — and the one who will never say yes.

FREYA AND FRIGG: THE QUEEN BEE QUESTION

If Odin is the Allfather, then Frigg is his queen — wise, prophetic, and enthroned at his side. But then there’s Freya: equally glorious, equally powerful, ruling her own hall, and never defined by a husband.

The myths never actually set Freya and Frigg up as rivals. In Lokasenna, Freya even steps in to defend Frigg when Loki spits his usual poison, reminding him that Frigg knows the fate of all things. It’s a moment of quiet solidarity — two powerful women holding the line together, probably rolling their eyes while the men around them get drunker, louder, and more ridiculous.

Frigg is the dignified matron, keeper of secrets, mistress of marriage bonds. Freya is the independent lady, unapologetically sensual, master of magic, and leader of her own realm. Together, they are not competitors but complements: the queen and the witch, the wife and the wanderer, the hearth and the battlefield.

FREYA: LOYAL LADY OF THE PEOPLE

Unlike Odin, who tends to treat humans as chess pieces, Freya comes across as fiercely loyal to her devotees. In Hyndluljóð, she goes out of her way to help her devotee Óttar, proving she could be fiercely loyal to mortals who honoured her.

But Óttar isn’t the only sign of her devotion. All across Scandinavia, place-names like Freyjulundr (“Freya’s Grove”) and Freyjuhof (“Freya’s Temple”) show she had sacred sites dedicated to her — she wasn’t just the subject of a whispered prayer now and then, but a goddess with real cultic presence. Archaeology adds to the picture: graves of völur (seiðr-practitioners) buried with staffs and magical amulets suggest women who may have served under Freya’s patronage, embodying her role as mistress of sorcery in mortal society.

So while Odin demanded sacrifice and blood, Freya seems more approachable, closer to the daily lives of farmers, lovers, and women seeking fertility or independence. She wasn’t just a goddess of the high halls of Asgard — she was invoked in homes and fields, where amber beads and cat amulets may have carried her presence.

FREYA’S FAVOURITE THINGS

CATS, THE SKOGKATT’S OF SCANDINAVIA

Not lions, not horses, not dragons. Freya rides in a chariot pulled by two enormous cats. Likely Norwegian Forest Cats, the hulking skogkatts of Scandinavia, which are fluffy, feral, and strong enough to drag a goddess across the Nine Worlds. They embody her willfulness, sass, hearth-magic, and a certain feline refusal to do anything unless they feel like it. 

In fact, with her cats, her treasures, and her refusal to be bartered to any giant, Freya may well be the original patron goddess of single women who’d rather spend their evenings with feline company than with disappointing manchildren.

HILDISVÍNI, THE BATTLE-BOAR

On other days, she mounts a giant boar. In Hyndluljóð, this turns out to be her human devotee Óttar, whom she transformed to protect him. Imagine telling your friends: “Yes, my goddess turned me into a battle-pig so I could attend court with her and claim my ancestral inheritance.” Life goals.

BRÍSINGAMEN

The most famous necklace in Norse myth. Brísingamen is gleaming, fiery, and so coveted that Loki once stole it. Heimdall fought him for it in the form of a seal (yes, a seal), and Christian scribes later invented a scandal about how Freya obtained it. That rumour probably started because Brísingamen roughly means “Fire Necklace” or “Necklace of the Brísings” (a mythical tribe of dwarves). 

We don’t know exactly what it looked like, but most scholars think it was imagined as the ultimate piece of jewellery: part torc (a show of status), part necklace of gems (a show of beauty), maybe even part sun-symbol (shining with Vanir fertility fire). Whether torc, collar, or jewel-studded chain, it was the “must-have accessory” of the Viking cosmos.

THE FALCON-CLOAK

And then there’s her feathered cloak, a magical garment that lets its wearer fly across the worlds in falcon form. Freya uses it for her own shapeshifting, but she also (perhaps too generously) lends it to Loki whenever the gods need someone to do a bit of spying and snooping. If the cats mark her free will and the necklace her beauty, the cloak shows her freedom: the ability to slip any boundary, cross any border, and soar wherever she pleases.

THE NORSE GODDESS OF LOVE AND WAR WOULD ABSOLUTELY WEAR PINK, ESPECIALLY WITH THIS MESSAGE 

WHAT DID FREYA LOOK LIKE?

Here’s the thing: despite all the paintings and carvings of her, we don’t actually know. The Eddas and sagas — usually so eager to tell us who slept with whom and who insulted whom — never pause to describe Freya’s hair, eyes, height, or features. Not once.

Instead, the sources describe her presence. She is called “the most glorious of the goddesses,” and “most beautiful in tears,” her grief itself shining outwards as gold and amber. She is defined not by the curve of her cheekbones but by her sovereignty, treasures, magic, and confidence to choose and refuse.

And that is powerful. It means Freya does not belong to a single body type, face, or style. She is not “the blonde bombshell of Asgard” or “the red-haired temptress of the Vanir.” She is every woman who has ever wept for love, stood her ground, claimed her desires, or carried her grief with strength.

Archaeology gives us female figures in jewellery, pendants, or carved amulets — some wearing broad necklaces that may echo Brísingamen. But none are labelled “this is Freya.” That uncertainty leaves her image open, fluid, adaptable.

In short, Freya looks however we imagine her to. She looks like every woman who has ever claimed her own power. Look in the mirror or at the women in your life and you will see her.

NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE: SUMMON FREYA’S FIERCENESS EVERY TIME YOU PULL THIS TEE ON

FREYA, WEAVER OF MAGIC

More than beauty, Freya is the sorceress of the gods. If Thor is brawn and Odin is wisdom, Freya is the one who can bend the fabric of reality with a glance and a song.

She is the master of seiðr,  a form of magic feared and revered in equal measure. This is not “pick a rune, any rune.” It is trance and ecstasy, shapeshifting and soul-flight, prophecy and the weaving of fate itself. It unsettled the Æsir because it was powerful, liminal, and — worse still — it came from the Vanir. 

Snorri tells us that Freya taught it to them after the war, which means even Odin, the Allfather, had to learn his craft from her. Odin may have hung nine nights on Yggdrasil for the wisdom of the runes, but Freya is the one who showed the gods how to actually use ecstatic magic.

Her magical feats in the sources are many:

• She shapeshifts with her falcon-cloak, crossing worlds with ease. She even lends it to Loki when the gods need reconnaissance, which is generous, considering he never stops insulting her.
  

• She transforms her devotee Óttar into her boar, Hildisvíni, so he can travel with her safely to consult the seeress Hyndla.
  

• She compels seeresses to reveal hidden truths. In Hyndluljóð, Hyndla resists, but Freya is relentless, extracting every secret until she gets what she wants.

If Odin is the rune-master, Freya is the witch-queen. In Norse society, seiðr was considered “unmanly” because it required trance, yielding control, and weaving fate in ways associated with women’s work at the loom. Men who practised it risked being called ergi — shameful, gender-deviant. And yet Odin learned it anyway, taking the insults on the chin because the power was worth it. Freya, by contrast, never had to apologise. For her, this wasn’t a shameful sideline but her birthright. 

FREYA, PRIESTESS OF SACRIFICES

Freya also held one of the most solemn religious roles in the Norse cosmos: blótgyðja — priestess of sacrifices.

In the Ynglinga saga, Snorri tells us that after the war between the Æsir and the Vanir, Odin established the blót (sacrificial rituals) system in Sweden. Njörðr and Freyr were made priests of sacrifice, but Freya too was named a priestess, continuing the Vanir’s traditions among her new Æsir hosts.

This paints a striking picture: Freya was imagined as standing at the altar, leading rituals, receiving offerings, and mediating between mortals and the divine. Her cult wasn’t fringe or secretive. It was central.

Combined with her role as the teacher of seiðr, this makes Freya the most magically potent of the goddesses and one of the most overtly religious. She embodies the sacred rites that bind gods and humans together — the gifts, the feasts, the sacrifices.

It’s a reminder that to the Norse, Freya wasn’t just someone you called on for love spells or fertility. She was a full-scale divine priestess, keeper of the rites that made the world turn.

FREYA’S HALL OF DEATH AND DOMINION

Half the slain belong to Odin, half to Freya. That line in Grímnismál is quietly explosive. The Allfather, collector of warriors for Valhöll, does not have sole claim to the heroic dead. Freya takes just as many, and she doesn’t ask permission. This one line shifts the balance of the Norse cosmos. It tells us that Freya, not Frigg, is Odin’s true counterpart in terms of power.

Her realm is Fólkvangr (“the Field of the People”), where her hall Sessrúmnir (“the Hall of Many Seats”) stands. Valhöll is the great drinking hall of eternal battle-prep for Ragnarök, filled with berserkers, oath-sworn warriors, and those obsessed with glory. Sessrúmnir feels different: a vast and generous hall, open and radiant where Freya’s dead may feast in beauty, or rest in her care. The sources are silent on the details, making it all the more tantalising. 

Why does she share the slain? Because Freya is Vanir. She embodies the full cycle of fertility and mortality. Crops grow, harvests are cut; warriors live, warriors fall. Life feeds death, and death feeds life again. It is the same rhythm, whether in the field of barley or the field of battle.

FREYA, GODDESS OF LOVE (BUT DON’T CALL HER SWEETHEART)

Snorri says it’s “good to call on Freya in matters of love.” And indeed, she is invoked for passion, desire, fertility, and beauty. But unlike Aphrodite, she’s not fluttering her eyelashes and pushing mortals into awkward marriages.

Freya’s allure is inherent. She doesn’t need tricks or potions — her presence, wealth, and power make her irresistible. Giants beg for her as a bride, Loki mocks her for her sexual liberation, and even Thor had to dress up as her to get his hammer back from the mean giants. She is the goddess who doesn’t chase; she attracts.

FREYA’S TEARS OF GOLD

When her husband Óðr wanders, Freya weeps for him. She weeps so deeply that her tears fall onto the earth as drops of red gold and into the sea as shining amber. It’s one of the most striking images in Norse myth: a goddess whose grief literally becomes treasure.

This is a heartbreak myth and a creation myth woven together. Unlike the weeping of mortals, which only salts the earth, Freya’s sorrow enriches it. Her pain doesn’t just vanish; it transforms into beauty and value — as if her longing itself ensures the world glitters.

Óðr never quite returns in the surviving stories. His absence defines him. He is the eternal beloved who is always gone, always longed for.

That absence shapes Freya, too. It makes her not only the goddess of desire fulfilled, but also unfulfilled. She is not just love’s fire, she is also its ache. She teaches us beauty is often braided with sorrow and that even in divine halls, love can mean longing, waiting, and loss.

Amber itself may carry echoes of this myth. In the Viking Age, amber was called the “gold of the north.” It washed up on the seashore and was traded far and wide. To the Norse, a bead of amber could represent a shard of Freya’s sorrow, her grief hardened into something beautiful. 

FREYA’S MANY ALIASES

Freya was the kind of Norse goddess who couldn’t be contained by a single name. In Gylfaginning, it is said that while Óðr wandered, Freya went looking for him “among strange peoples,” and she picked up a new title everywhere she went. 

Among her best-known aliases:

• Gefn (The Giver): She hands out prosperity, fertility, and occasionally trouble.
  

• Hörn (Flax / Linen): Tying her to spinning and weaving, though somehow she never gets reduced to just “housework goddess.”
  

• Mardöll (Sea-Brightness): A poetic nod to her tears becoming amber, glinting like treasure on the shore.
  

• Sýr (Sow): Yes, “Sow.” It sounds like an insult, but for the Norse it was a powerful fertility title — and remember, she also rides a boar into battle.
  

• Vanadís (Lady of the Vanir): Her VIP title reminding the Æsir that she came from the other divine family and brought seiðr with her.

Skaldic poetry preserves even more mysterious names (Skjálf, Thrungva, Thrund), but the fact that Snorri admits he doesn’t know them all tells you everything: Freya had so many titles because she was that important. Everyone had their own way of calling on her.

So, Freya is less a goddess with one job description and more a brand with a whole portfolio of names. Whatever you needed — love, magic, treasure, fertility — there was a Freya for that.

CONTROVERSIES AND CHRISTIAN SLANDER

It’s worth remembering that nearly all of the myths we have about the Norse gods were written down in Christian Iceland, two centuries after conversion. Imagine the monks, quills scratching, dutifully recording tales of a goddess who ruled her own hall, chose her own lovers, rode a battle-boar, and taught men a form of sorcery considered “unmanly.” You can almost hear the pearl-clutching.

So what happens? They smear her, of course.

THE NECKLACE SCANDAL (SÖRLA ÞÁTTR)

In this late tale, Freya desires Brísingamen, the dwarves’ masterwork necklace. The price? She must sleep with each of the four dwarves in turn. She does so and claims the treasure. Then Odin, disgusted, confiscates it and forces her into a long penance of stirring up endless strife among kings.

It’s salacious, moralising, and completely unlike the older poetic traditions, which simply state that Freya possessed Brísingamen. The whole “sleeping with dwarves” episode has Christian cautionary tale written all over it. It reframes her independence as vice, her sexuality as sin, and her desire for treasure as greed. In other words, it’s less myth, more medieval smear campaign.

LOKI’S VERBAL ASSAULT (LOKASENNA)

At the great feast where Loki insults everyone, he turns his fire on Freya, calling her promiscuous, incestuous, and unclean. But let’s be clear: Loki insults everyone. He calls Thor a coward, Odin corrupt, and Sif adulterous. This isn’t gospel truth; it’s flyting — ritualised verbal duelling. 

WHY FREYA BECAME A TARGET

When you step back, the pattern is glaringly obvious. Who gets smeared in Christian-era retellings? The independent women. Sexual? Then she’s “wanton”. Magical? Then she’s “a witch.” Powerful in her own right? Then she must be “corrupt.”

The same formula was used against countless female figures in European myth: turn queens into temptresses, medicine women and midwives into hags, and goddesses into morality lessons.

But to the pre-Christian Norse, Freya was not a cautionary tale. She was a patroness of love, fertility, wealth, sorcery, and even the honoured dead. If anything, the very things Christian scribes condemned her for — sexuality, independence, and magic— made her worthy of worship.

CHANNEL THE GODDESS WHO NEVER BOWED TO ANYONE

WHY FREYA STILL MATTERS

Strip away the Christian smear campaigns, the giant suitors, and the gossip of Loki, and what you’re left with is this:

• A symbol of feminine self-determination — the right to desire, choose, and refuse.
  

• A patroness of witchcraft, magic, and hidden wisdom, reclaiming seiðr as sacred, not shameful.
  

• A figure of resilience — a goddess who shows that grief and longing can be endured and even transformed into strength.
  

• An archetype of empowered womanhood, proving softness and strength, sensuality and sovereignty, can live in the same skin.

In other words, she’s the kind of goddess who would wipe her golden tears, straighten her necklace, and march into your life, reminding you that being feminine has never meant being weak.

She is invoked in modern Heathenry, Paganism, and feminist spirituality not just as a deity but as a living archetype — one who stands against shame, silence, and diminishment.

So yes, she had cats. Yes, she had a pretty necklace. But she also welcomed warriors into her hall, held the secrets of sorcery, and refused ever to be anyone’s pawn.

And that’s why — a millennium on — she still matters.

FROM GOLDEN TEARS TO BATTLE-BOARS, FREYA WAS NEVER JUST ONE THING — AND NEITHER IS OUR COLLECTION. SHOP THE FREYA COLLECTION AND WEAR THE POWER OF THE LADY HERSELF.