Born of Cold and Winter Air

The Memories of Winter

The man came round to face her and she lifted her eyes to him; his feet bare in the snow, hair black as a raven, was tied back at the base of his skull, and his eyes burned gold like embers. His expression was cruelly interested and cynical. The man's boney fingers traced along her jawline, intentionally leaving a trail of grey flesh. The temperature plummeted, and a chill ran down her spine.

Mjoll's hands buried in the snow at her sides, the fabric of her dress began to saturate with it's wetness. Her eyes were trained on the pale stranger before her, carefully watching the way he carried himself.

"You are not cold, sweet girl?" His lips pulled into a malicious grin, hopeful that she would relent. He found her bravery enchanting, yet unsettling. Most mortal men would quake in his presence. Perhaps she did not recognize the monster before her.

"I am no girl." Her eyes darkened, voice heavy with venom.

Jokul's chest tightened at her reply. She was not afraid of him. His hand reached out to her, palm open to receive hers. "Foolish of me to assume so. Take my hand, my lady, and we will see if you change your mind."

Mjoll hesitated at first, but gathered her courage, and placed her slender hand into his. The man's flesh sent jolts of ice into her veins, the supple warmth of her palm colored blue, bitten with frost. His eyes were intent with expectation, but his cruel mouth began to falter.

"The cold never bothers me." She said in confidence, the wind pulled at her platinum blonde hair, twisting and whipping it's waves about her face.

Jokul expression softened as he pulled her to stand before him. The action slightly surprised her, a small gasp escaping her plump purpled lips. He stared down into the woman's face, captivated by the unique beauty that showed no fear.
"What is your name?" He asked curiously.

"Mjoll, my Lord." Her head bowed in respect, further flattering the frost giant.

Wrapping his large hand around hers, he pulled her into his frame, eyes flashing shades of blue before returning to the color of molten gold.
Her heart shaped face looked up into his, expression unreadable and reserved. "Will you come then? Or shall I leave you to the elements?"

Mjoll, always eager for an adventure or pursuit of the unknown, felt no reason to refuse his offer, but before she sold her fate, his name was all she desired to know. "I will have my Lord's name, before I give answer."

"Do you not know? Have you not heard the tales?" Hands sliding up her arms and tracing along her collarbone, Jokul smiled darkly, anticipating her reaction. " I am known as Jokul Frosti, God of Glaciers. Tell me now, have you decided?"

Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin to look him in the eye, she made up her mind. Mjoll knew well, of the tales of the god, but none struck a chord of fear quite like her betrothed. "I will come with you."

******

His eyes reflected flames as he lost himself in their hypnotizing dance. Jack's forehead furrowed, lines etching across his young face. Elbow braced on the arm of the chenille chair and chin resting on his fist, he listened to Elsa's lulling voice. Her words wove a tapestry of myth and history, gracefully retelling memories his mind was free of.

Jokul had brought the courageous maiden to his home, granting her power over his soldiers and domain. In time, he came to love her, a foreign emotion that forever changed the cruel god's heart.

Mjoll too, found her heart yearning for Jokul, and professed her undying devotion to him. Uncommon amongst the immortal, Jokul took Mjoll as his bride despite her mortality. Many years they spent together, content in their peaceful and quiet life. It was not long before Mjoll fell with child, it was a joyous time for the two, but the pregnancy was not without it's complications.

On the nigh of summer, the baby came, and with glorious new life came the sorrow of death. Mjoll, frail from the birth of a son, did not live to see the dawn, nor the blizzard that ravaged the country.