Flowers in Asgard (Thor, Odin/Frigga)
Note: Written for norsekink prompt: Odin/Frigga - young lovers. The early days of their courtship and/or marriage. (I wrote Frigga! Huzzah!!)
Flowers in Asgard
She arrived on a magnificent ship glittering of silver and gold, behind a shimmering veil woven by the finest craftsman in her father's kingdom. She had spoken little in these past three days, but when she did her voice was low and melodious, almost a whisper.
She was nothing as Odin had imagined. He'd expected a typical earthen princess, with wild eyes and sturdy limbs, fiery red hair and a temper to match. That woman would have borne him any number of children and accompanied him to war, splintering shields and hearts in one fell swoop.
Instead the daughter of Fjörgynn was a locked box, a silent riddle without a proper answer. It took three direct warnings from his father for Odin to refrain himself from tearing off that veil before the all-important wedding night, yet he remain fixated on the desire to see his bride-to-be's face. That, he thought, was surely the key.
They were standing in the barren western garden, watching her three handmaidens carefully planting flowers from her home into the palace soil. This was a thoughtful gesture from Odin's mother, one that he had nothing to do with. The alien plants looked far too frail and small for the oncoming Asgardian winter. He could not see how they would survive.
It was perhaps tactless to articulate this doubt in front of his intended. He did so nonetheless.
The veil remained motionless, though for the first time Odin could detect an ever-faint trace of mirth in that soft voice.
"We shall see how Asgard fares with my flowers, milord."
He agreed all too readily, and—despite all improbabilities—had not regretted it since.