The Benevolent Warrior (Fandral Fanfiction #1)

[19] Man of His Word

On the eve of battle, of accepting the approach of Death herself, sleep did not come easily for Fandral. He lay on the slab of stone, his cape and vest making a makeshift mattress, with Ashildyr curled beside him,  his arms draped over her side. The steady rise and fall of her shoulders was of greater comfort to him than he realised. Soon,  it mezmerized him.
His mind retreated back to finer times, times when he found Ashildyr to be both an enigma and a marvelous creature all at once.
***
He had,  of course, kept to his word. He had been bound to Midgard on some miscellaneous errand on Thor's behalf, something about Jane Foster. He did as his friend requested and planned to make his stay a short one, never spending more than a day in one place. He was sure he was capable of getting used to a Midgardian life, but it was safer,  wiser to refrain from making attachments. There was, however, a matter of sentiment that needed attention. He had promised a certain woman a visit.

New Mexico was very much the same as he remembered it being since he'd been there last. But he'd found her in the diner, sweeping away the dust and debris of the battle before. It's impact lingered,  it seemed. When he walked in, she looked up from her work on the floor and almost dropped the broom in her hands. She hardly recognized him. He wasn't dressed in a tunic,  loincloth or breastplate. He wore actual clothes: a leather jacket and straight cut jeans that ended at his ankles. He looked...normal.
"Hi," he greeted her with a wry smile on his face. She smiled back at him then and there was this warmth again that swelled in his chest. Her wound had healed over well, barely even a trace left behind. She was safe.
"Hi," she beamed back,  putting her broom aside and wiping her hands on her apron. She looked...surprised. Fandral did his best not to wince at the look on her face. Had she not expected him to come good on his word?
"So," he began, taking a seat at the nearest booth and leaning in to flash her a brilliant smile, "I hear you have the best burgers in Midgard here."
Ashildyr shook her head and stifled a laugh. "Something like that,  yeah."

***
The memory rippled and morphed into another, one from a more recent time. They were in the courtyard of Asgard,  sparring with one another playfully on Ashildyr's second day. He brought her there on the pretense of being "open."

He brandished his blade and pointed it towards her heart.
"Come on,  Hildyr." He taunted her,  a smile still on his lips as he circled her. His footwork was lose and fluid as he moved around her. "Come on. Prove that your head is as sharp as your face is... bewitching."
Ashildyr didn't hide her blush this time. "You've got to stop doing that, you know, "
He feigned confusion,  "Whatever do you mean,  Lady Ashildyr?"
She lunged, swinging her blade to meet his. He enjoyed this,  oh he relished it. He parried to the left as she swung at him,  and caught her off guard when the tip of Fimbuldraugr found her throat. He chuckled then.
"Trying to distract me," Ashildyr replied, breathless though smiling as she swatted the length of his blade away. She ducked under his arm as he charged toward her and she found her feet on the other side of him.
Fandral, enthralled once more,  gave in to the chase. "You may run,  Ashildyr The Brave, but you cannot defeat me. I am,  in fact, one of the most skilled swordsman in all of Asgard."
She laughed,  switching hands so that her blade was now in her dominant hand.
"What's so funny?" Fandral inquired,  meeting her next swing with a strength he wished to ease. She pushed back roughly,  kneeing him in the abdomen and keeping him in a hunched position in front of her.
"I don't need to defeat you," she smiled at him sweetly as she kicked him down onto his back. He looked up at her,  awed. He didn't move. He couldn't, because now she had the advantage over him. His sword, conviently knocked from his grasp during the scuffle,  now lay a few feet away-too far from his reach.
"Then what do you propose?"
She crawled over to him and hovered just above him,  her eyes staring into his. She closed the space between their faces and planted a kiss on his temple. She giggled happily at her gesture and sat up,  a victorious grin along her lips.
"Distraction,"
He blinked. What kind of a woman was she? What kind of creature moved so swiftly and used words so well?
Fandral realized he liked Midgard a little more now. He had been wise to visit her after all. And he did not come to regret it.