Signal from Asgard presents: Angrboda's Testimony
Angrboda bore three children in Ironwood, far from Asgard's walls—Fenrir the wolf, Jormungandr the serpent, and Hel the pale daughter. The gods consulted prophecies and saw doom woven into their bloodlines. Not because of any crime committed, not because of any choice made, but because of who their parents were: Angrboda (she who offers sorrow) and Loki the Trickster. The gods came in force and took them.
They chained Fenrir with Gleipnir's bonds after tricking his trust. They hurled Jormungandr into the ocean to leave in exile. They cast Hel into the mist-realm to rule the dead who were unworthy of entering Valhalla. Three children stolen, three sentences given—not for deeds done, but for the father that sired them and the womb that bore them. Angrboda was left in Ironwood with empty cradles, erased from the sagas as a footnote of dread.
The gods feared the prophecy and acted on it, creating exactly what they sought to prevent. When Ragnarok comes and her three children return—Fenrir will devour Odin, Jormungandr will poison Thor and Hel will send her army of dead. Remember that the first wound was the children's theft, remember Angrboda: The one who offer sorrow's gift, in Ironwood's the wind still mourns
three empty cradles, three children torn.
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LYRICS:
In Ironwood's where frost learns breath
Where mountains remember older deaths
She bore her children far from law
Beyond the walls the gods has drawn
First, the Wolf with hunger's jaw
Fenrir, breach of ordered law
Second, the Serpent coiled and vast
Jormungandr, silence cast
Third the Daughter, pale and still
Hel, whose name bent mortal's will
No gold, no hall, no shining lie
Only stone and wind and sky
She raised them where the world was wide
Where none were bound, where none must hide
From golden halls they cast their lots
Ran prophecies through rune and knots
They saw not deeds but blood and womb
And fear made verdict from a name
"Born of her,” their whispers said
“But worse—of him,” with Loki’s thread
Not crime, not act, not broken oath
Only blood and womb and growth
They came to Jotunheimr in force
Not with blade, but righteous course
They stole her children, one by one
Before their crimes had yet begun
No challenge made, no word exchanged
No trial held, no fate arranged
Only prophecy, cold and clean
And gods afraid of what might be
Jormungandr was seized by throat
"Into the ocean," judgment spoke
They hurled him to the outer sea
A sentence without any mercy
He sank like curse into the deep
Where salt would teach his endless sleep
He grew and grew till world was ringed
A living wall that ocean fringed
They cast Hel to the mist
To realm cold where light resist
They gave her throne the gods won't tread
And crowned her queen of all the dead
Half her face was life and bloom
Half was rot and silent tomb
Child made keeper of the shade
Queen of graves the gods had made
But Fenrir was kept within their ring
Too feared to free, too watched to flee
Only Tyr would meet his gaze
Only Tyr would feed his days
The Wolf grew fast as wolves will do
Bound not by hate but bound by you
They bound him fast with Gleipnir's thread
Forged from things that never were
They tricked his trust, they took Tyr’s hand
The price of law they could not stand
And where was she when this was done?
Not slain, not bound, not overthrown
Erased like frost beneath the sun
A mother left to grieve her young
They wrote her as a footnote dread
A name that mean just sorrow spread
No voice for mother, no tear for loss
No song for her who bore the cost
Her name is Angrboda: The one who offer sorrow's gift
In Ironwood's the wind still mourns
Three empty cradles, three children torn
They call her Mother of Monsters now
She made no crime and made no vow
She bore three hearts, held them close
They stole her young and made them foes
Who forge the monster's burning rage?
The womb that bore, or those who caged?
Who write the doom they feared to see?
The children, or the prophecy?
She did not raise them to hate the sky
Nor teach them that gods must die
But when you steal a mother's three
You do not end fate, you make it free
Soon their world will burn and fall
fate will march to end them all
Serpent will bring salt and flame
Thor will die from poison's claim
Hel will send her army cold
Wolf will eat All-father whole
When fire walks and heavens fall
When gods will meet the debts they stalled
Remember this as worlds collapse: The first wound was the children’s theft.
#angrboda #fenrir #jormungandr #helheim #loki
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