#as ice

As Ice

Written for@flashfictionfridayofficial 121 prompt:Cold Body

Shivers The icy wind whipped through their clothes. But it isn’t just the wind that cause the shivers. Standing, they look down at the bodies that their climbing has disturbed.

“Ah hell!” One says miserably.

“Do you think they may be, still alive?” She asks. The men look at her like she is crazy. “Extreme cold slows down body functions. A cold body is more likely to..” She kneels down carefully beside them. Her hands run over the ice cold bodies. Even through her thick gloves, she can feel the cold.

“Anything?” She has reached the necks and mouths. Silence greets her attempts to find a pulse. With a sigh, she slowly shakes her head.

“Damn. It was a good thought. What now?”

“We call the cops, right?” the other man asks.

“Yeah. And we will need to stay here until they get here. That may take awhile, unless they copter in.” She looks up at the sky. The white flakes still fall. “Not good weather for flying.”

The call is made, the coordinates given. Now they wait. She stands and stomps around, trying to bring warmth back in her freezing feet and legs.

“How do you think it happened?” He nods to the two frozen people at his feet.

“They were probably hiking and got caught in an avalanche.”

“Yeah. Poor buggers.”

They all three turn away from the bodies as they await the police. A mistake. For they are very cold and want the warmth of the hikers. They reach up to grab at their legs. Screams echo around the mountain but no one hears.

Curses. Pleading. All fall on death ears as they are pulled under the snow. Snow is quiet. When their screams are swallowed by the snow, quiet reigns again. Deep under the snow cover, the warm bodies grow cold.

“These are the coordinates given.” One of the police officers said.

“Well, I see no bodies and no hikers.” His partner says.

“Kids playing tricks.”

Deep under the snow, they try to scream but are unheard.

“A waste of our time.” He mumbles. They leave.

Frigga tried her best to make the man she once called son see that he only had two options left.

The first was to face the death sentence Odin thought would be best for his deeds in New York. The second was to marry someone the Allfather chose and be relatively free.

Loki wasn't stupid, of course, but he tried to play coy as he hesitated to accept the second option. Who was the one he'd need to marry? Where? When? Frigga only told him bits; she didn't know the full plan, or she didn't want to tell. The wedding would take place on the other person's realm, by those traditions, and when, well... as soon as Loki accepted the offer.

Odin really wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

Loki was gifted with a few hours to make up his mind, and in the end, of course he chose the marriage. Lots of couples survived forced marriages; he would, too. He made sure to appear calm and almost stoic as he'd been prepared; washed thoroughly, scented with sweet-scented perfume, dressed in clothes of silk edged with golden threads, a few locks of his hair braided and golden bells attached to them. Loki had to admit, silk was a little bit too thin for him. He felt unbelievably bare, but he didn't complain. It was actually good to feel touches; he'd spent quite a while in his cell alone.

As a handmaiden slipped a golden collar around his neck and fastened it there, Loki nearly pulled away. Was that really needed? The handmaiden then slipped the handcuffs on his wrists. He grimaced a little. These were gold as well, with the chain connecting them, and it was long enough to let Loki's hands rest at his sides.

He'd still be a prisoner, even married on another realm.

He tried to hold onto the thought of running away at the first given opportunity. Determined to remain stoic, he tried his best not to show that he felt literally sick. The trip to the realm was fast, and he barely could contain his surprise when he realised where were they. Midgard. His mind raced; would Odin make him marry a mortal...?

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