The Blue Rose 'Chapter 2
"They say only the warmth of pure love can thaw a frozen heart." Fandral had said that one day, and the rest of the Warriors and Lady Sif had laughed out heartily. Even Thor couldn't stop his laugh; only someone like Fandral could say something delusional like that, even if the warrior declared that it was out of the oldest books in the Royal Library.
"Laugh as you might, but if one of our travels to Jotunheim leads me to a Jotun Princess, I'm going to win her heart and become the next Jotun King. How does that sound?" Fandral declared.
Thor wasn't sure if Fandral was serious or just messing around. How would Fandral handle a giantess? Thor preferred his partners to be smaller than him, delicate enough for him to pick them in his arms and manhandle them. Someone who would let Thor take control. But at the same time, not entirely submissive, someone who would take pleasure themselves, not just please the prince of Asgard. That's what he had been getting all his life; partners just out there to satisfy him, the to-be king of Asgard. Nobody objected to anything he said, they simply endured whatever he wanted
Too many expectations, eh? But he was the mighty Thor; he would find out his soul-mate, wherever she, or he, was hiding. His friends' voices broke him out of his thoughts.
"Then we will dance and celebrate your marriage. Only if we don't freeze to our deaths with her cold stare." Sif commented. "Or yours, when you turn Jotun" she added when Fandral gave her a death stare.
"Aye, and we will visit you whenever our kitchens run out of ice." Volstagg added.
"But, are you sure you would not burn at her touch, as the legend says?" Thor asked. He had never seen a Frost Giant, but he had heard legends. One of them said that their blue skin was so icy that the cold burned the flesh of an Asgardian at the slightest touch.
"Poor Fandral." Hogan said. "Never getting to bed his queen."
Fandral had pretty much stopped talking about getting a Jotun Princess after that.
Thor joined others and laughed out, but honestly speaking, he hoped that he never got to face a frost giant outside the battlefield.
And yet, here he stood, beside his Father's throne, waiting for his to-be spouse, who was a Frost Giant of all the vibrant species out there. There was an uncomfortable heat in the atmosphere, the rains had not graced the Asgardians for quite a while, and the temperature was really starting to bother everyone, even the royalties. But tonight, people were not paying attention to the weather, even though it was turning very irritating. The whole of Asgard was decorated, adorned with sparkling jewels, and golden trimmings, sparkling in the tussling flames. He could hear the excited murmurings of his people, waiting for their new prince. He looked at his mother, far on the other side of the podium. Of course she tried to hide it, but Thor could see the excitement leaping in her eyes. He turned to the Warriors three and Lady Sif at the steps; they had looks of assurance in their eyes. Of course, they were not about to marry a frost giant!
"But Father. He's a frost giant." Thor had objected.
"A very special one, Thor. And he is my responsibility now, he is ours. He will be yours; I want you to take good care of him. Could I not expect that from the future king of Asgard?" All-Father replied.
And Thor did not question his King further.
Thor was worried. What did his to-be husband look like? Surely he would be just as big as the rest of the Jotuns, eyes just as mean, body just as tattered, and the Aesir prince would be shadowed by his proportions. Would his heart be as cold as his planet? Would he look at Thor with his blood-red eyes, as if the Asgardian had captured him? Caged him? Would he hate the Prince of Asgard? Detest him? Would there be any love-making? A couple without love-making? How would Thor bed his spouse if he couldn't even touch him?
Would the Prince of Jotunheim just be a responsibility, a burden to him, for the rest of Eternity?
The chariot arrived, and the crowd cheered, barely able to control their anticipation for their guests. The chariot itself was decorated with dark jewels, black pearls, and with curtains with the color of the darkest tempest, that blocked the view of his prince. It was large, fit to be the containment of giants. A few Jotun soldiers followed the vehicle on foot, and Thor couldn't help but stare at their bodies. They were big, menacing, bloody eyes void of all emotions. They looked brutal enough to snap an Asgardian's body into two, with just their bare hands.
Thor swallowed, and braced himself when the charioteer pulled away the curtains.
The being that got out was just like the rest of them. Cerulean body, markings that silently talked of secrets and legends, a big and looming frame, and his face set to be annulled of any sentiments.
Oh Valhalla, I'm going to take this man as my husband? Thor's heart sank.
"That is Helbindi, the present king of Jotunheim," Odin said, standing up to greet his guests, as Helbindi nodded in their direction. The All-Father barely controlled his smile at the 'oh' Thor let out.
But what else could he expect; surely his fiancée would be just as horrid looking, if not more, since the princes were blood-related after all.
The Jotun King leaned back into the chariot to escort his brother.
What Thor saw, he could not believe his eyes.
(And alright, maybe it was his doing- the lightning that tore across the sky. What? He was surprised, okay?)
The hand in Helbindi's large palm was petite and slender, Thor noticed, as a cool wind kissed his face. Two lean legs appeared out from behind the curtains, and by the name of the Holy Yggsdrasil, they did belong to the most incredible frost giant, (if he was one,) that Thor ever seen.
The Jotun prince was slender and gorgeous, with an enigmatic azure shade for his skin, and the same sacred markings carved on distinct places in his body. He had midnight hair, pulled back and decorated with pearls of the pure white, and just a single lock had been able to break free, caressing his delicate face in the light breeze that had suddenly started blowing. He had scarlet eyes, and somehow they reminded Thor more of rubies than of blood. Those eyes were nervous, bewildered, and yet, the Ice Prince walked with the air of a King, his posture graceful, even though his eyes spoke of his under-confidence. He was ornamented with wild decorations; jewels with colors Thor had never seen before, feathers of birds Thor had never heard of, fur of foreign creatures wrapped around his waist, a midnight cerulean cloak around his shoulders, falling down like a cascade behind him. Maybe Thor was just imagining things, but it felt like the breeze did pick up momentum with each of his steps.
He barely had the proportions of a Midgardian, and walking like this, sheltered by his huge brother in the front and two equally large Jotuns behind him, he looked more fragile and more delicate than before. His skin glistened with the golden flames around the path, and he looked like glass, crystalline, and almost breakable. Like a single blue rose, the thought came to Thor's mind, obscured in a bed of thorns.
Thor's heart skipped a bit, and as if on cue, the Prince looked up to him. A light snowfall broke out as soon as their eyes met. It was the first snowstorm in Asgard after a millennia.